{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_29247/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_29247","id":"gutenberg_29247","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29247","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics -- Early works to 1800","Happiness -- Early works to 1800"],"text":"The Academic Questions,\n\n                           Treatise De Finibus.\n\n                                   and\n\n                          Tusculan Disputations\n\n                                    Of\n\n                               M. T. Cicero\n\n                                   With\n\n         A Sketch of the Greek Philosophers Mentioned by Cicero.\n\n                         Literally Translated by\n\n                            C. D. Yonge, B.A.\n\n                       London: George Bell and Sons\n\n                               York Street\n\n                              Covent Garden\n\n                   Printed by William Clowes and Sons,\n\n                    Stamford Street and Charing Cross.\n\n                                   1875\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nA Sketch of the Greek Philosophers Mentioned by Cicero.\nIntroduction.\nFirst Book Of The Academic Questions.\nSecond Book Of The Academic Questions.\nA Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n   First Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n   Second Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n   Third Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n   Fourth Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n   Fifth Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\nThe Tusculan Disputations.\n   Introduction.\n   Book I. On The Contempt Of Death.\n   Book II. On Bearing Pain.\n   Book III. On Grief Of Mind.\n   Book IV. On Other Perturbations Of The Mind.\n   Book V. Whether Virtue Alone Be Sufficient For A Happy Life.\nFootnotes\n\n\n\n\n\n\nA SKETCH OF THE GREEK PHILOSOPHERS MENTIONED BY CICERO.\n\n\nIn the works translated in the present volume, Cicero makes such constant\nreferences to the doctrines and systems of the ancient Greek Philosophers,\nthat it seems desirable to give a brief account of the most remarkable of\nthose mentioned by him; not entering at length into the history of their\nlives, but indicating the principal theories which they maintained, and\nthe main points in which they agreed with, or differed from, each other.\n\nThe earliest of them was _Thales_, who was born at Miletus, about 640 B.C.\nHe was a man of great political sagacity and influence; but we have to\nconsider him here as the earliest philosopher who appears to have been\nconvinced of the necessity of scientific proof of whatever was put forward\nto be believed, and as the originator of mathematics and geometry. He was\nalso a great astronomer; for we read in Herodotus (i. 74) that he\npredicted the eclipse of the sun which happened in the reign of Alyattes,\nking of Lydia, B.C. 609. He asserted that water is the origin of all\nthings; that everything is produced out of it, and everything is resolved\ninto it. He also asserted that it is the soul which originates all motion,\nso much so, that he attributes a soul to the magnet. Aristotle also\nrepresents him as saying that everything is full of Gods. He does not\nappear to have left any written treatises behind him: we are uncertain\nwhen or where he died, but he is said to have lived to a great age\u2014to 78,\nor, according to some writers, to 90 years of age.\n\n_Anaximander_, a countryman of Thales, was also born at Miletus, about 30\nyears later; he is said to have been a pupil of the former, and deserves\nespecial mention as the oldest philosophical writer among the Greeks. He\ndid not devote himself to the mathematical studies of Thales, but rather\nto speculations concerning the generation and origin of the world; as to\nwhich his opinions are involved in some obscurity. He appears, however, to\nhave considered that all things were formed of a sort of matter, which he\ncalled \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f04\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, or The Infinite; which was something everlasting and\ndivine, though not invested with any spiritual or intelligent nature. His\nown works have not come down to us; but, according to Aristotle, he\nconsidered this \u201cInfinite\u201d as consisting of a mixture of simple,\nunchangeable elements, from which all things were produced by the\nconcurrence of homogeneous particles already existing in it,\u2014a process\nwhich he attributed to the constant conflict between heat and cold, and to\naffinities of the particles: in this he was opposed to the doctrine of\nThales, Anaximenes, and Diogenes of Apollonia, who agreed in deriving all\nthings from a single, not _changeable_, principle.\n\nAnaximander further held that the earth was of a cylindrical form,\nsuspended in the middle of the universe, and surrounded by water, air, and\nfire, like the coats of an onion; but that the interior stratum of fire\nwas broken up and collected into masses, from which originated the sun,\nmoon, and stars; which he thought were carried round by the three spheres\nin which they were respectively fixed. He believed that the moon had a\nlight of her own, not a borrowed light; that she was nineteen times as\nlarge as the earth, and the sun twenty-eight. He thought that all animals,\nincluding man, were originally produced in water, and proceeded gradually\nto become land animals. According to Diogenes Laertius, he was the\ninventor of the gnomon, and of geographical maps; at all events, he was\nthe first person who introduced the use of the gnomon into Greece. He died\nabout 547 B.C.\n\n_Anaximenes_ was also a Milesian, and a contemporary of Thales and\nAnaximander. We do not exactly know when he was born, or when he died; but\nhe must have lived to a very great age, for he was in high repute as early\nas B.C. 544, and he was the tutor of Anaxagoras, B.C. 480. His theory was,\nthat air was the first cause of all things, and that the other elements of\nthe universe were resolvable into it. From this infinite air, he imagined\nthat all finite things were formed by compression and rarefaction,\nproduced by motion, which had existed from all eternity; so that the earth\nwas generated out of condensed air, and the sun and other heavenly bodies\nfrom the earth. He thought also that heat and cold were produced by\ndifferent degrees of density of this primal element, air; that the clouds\nwere formed by the condensing of the air; and that it was the air which\nsupported the earth, and kept it in its place. Even the human soul he\nbelieved to be, like the body, formed of air. He believed in the eternity\nof matter, and denied the existence of anything immaterial.\n\n_Anaxagoras_, who, as has been already stated, was a pupil of Anaximenes,\nwas born at Clazomen\u00e6, in Ionia, about B.C. 499. He removed to Athens at\nthe time of the Persian war, where he became intimate with Pericles, who\ndefended him, though unsuccessfully, when he was prosecuted for impiety:\nhe was fined five talents, and banished from the city; on which he retired\nto Lampsacus, where he died at the age of 72. He differed from his\npredecessors of the Ionic School, and sought for a higher cause of all\nthings than matter: this cause he considered to be \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2, _intelligence_,\nor _mind_. Not that he thought this \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 to be the creator of the world,\nbut only that principle which arranged it, and gave it motion; for his\nidea was, that matter had existed from all eternity, but that, before the\n\u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 arranged it, it was all in a state of chaotic confusion, and full of\nan infinite number of homogeneous and heterogeneous parts; then the \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2\nseparated the homogeneous parts from the heterogeneous, and in this manner\nthe world was produced. This separation, however, he taught, was made in\nsuch a manner that everything contains in itself parts of other things, or\nheterogeneous elements; and is what it is only on account of certain\nhomogeneous parts which constitute its predominant and real character.\n\n_Pythagoras_ was earlier than Anaxagoras, though this latter has been\nmentioned before him to avoid breaking the continuity of the Ionic School.\nHis father\u2019s name was Mnesarchus, and he was born at Samos about 570 B.C.,\nthough some accounts make him earlier. He is said by some writers to have\nbeen a pupil of Thales, by others of Anaximander, or of Pherecydes of\nScyros. He was a man of great learning, as a geometrician, mathematician,\nastronomer, and musician; a great traveller, having visited Egypt and\nBabylon, and, according to some accounts, penetrated as far as India.\n\nMany of his peculiar tenets are believed to have been derived from the\nTyrrhenian Pelasgians, with whom he is said to have been connected. His\ncontemporaries at Crotona in South Italy, where he lived, looked upon him\nas a man peculiarly connected with the gods; and some of them even\nidentified him with the Hyperborean Apollo. He himself is said to have\nlaid claim to the gifts of divination and prophecy. The religious element\nwas clearly predominant in his character. Grote says of him, \u201cIn his\nprominent vocation, analogous to that of Epimenides, Orpheus, or Melampus,\nhe appears as the revealer of a mode of life calculated to raise his\ndisciples above the level of mankind, and to recommend them to the favour\nof the gods.\u201d (Hist. of Greece, iv. p. 529.)\n\nOn his arrival at Crotona, he formed a school, consisting at first of\nthree hundred of the richest of the citizens, who bound themselves by a\nsort of vow to himself and to each other, for the purpose of cultivating\nthe ascetic observances which he enjoined, and of studying his religious\nand philosophical theories. All that took place in this school was kept a\nprofound secret; and there were gradations among the pupils themselves,\nwho were not all admitted, or at all events not at first, to a full\nacquaintance with their master\u2019s doctrines. They were also required to\nsubmit to a period of probation. The statement of his forbidding his\npupils the use of animal food is denied by many of the best authorities,\nand that of his insisting on their maintaining an unbroken silence for\nfive years, rests on no sufficient authority, and is incredible. It is\nbeyond our purpose at present to enter into the question of how far the\nviews of Pythagoras in founding his school or club of three hundred,\ntended towards uniting in this body the idea of \u201cat once a philosophical\nschool, a religious brotherhood, and a political association,\u201d all which\ncharacters the Bishop of St. David\u2019s (Hist. of Greece, vol. ii. p. 148)\nthinks were inseparably united in his mind; while Mr. Grote\u2019s view of his\nobject (Hist. of Greece, vol. iv. p. 544) is very different. In a\npolitical riot at Crotona, a temple, in which many of his disciples were\nassembled, was burnt, and they perished, and some say that Pythagoras\nhimself was among them; though according to other accounts he fled to\nTarentum, and afterwards to Metapontum, where he starved himself to death.\nHis tomb (see Cic. de Fin. v. 2) was shown at Metapontum down to Cicero\u2019s\ntime. Soon after his death his school was suppressed, and did not revive,\nthough the Pythagoreans continued to exist as a sect, the members of which\nkept up the religious and scientific pursuits of their founder.\n\nPythagoras is said to have been the first who assumed the title of\n\u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03cc\u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u03c2; but there is great uncertainty as to the most material of his\nphilosophical and religious opinions. It is believed that he wrote nothing\nhimself, and that the earliest Pythagorean treatises were the work of\nPhilolaus, a contemporary of Socrates. It appears, however, that he\nundertook to solve by reference to one single primary principle the\nproblem of the origin and constitution of the universe. His predilection\nfor mathematics led him to trace the origin of all things to _number_; for\n\u201cin _numbers_ he thought that they perceived many analogies of things that\nexist and are produced, more than in fire, earth, or water: as, for\ninstance, they thought that a certain condition of numbers was justice;\nanother, soul and intellect, ... And moreover, seeing the conditions and\nratios of what pertains to harmony to consist in numbers, since other\nthings seemed in their entire nature to be formed in the likeness of\nnumbers, and in all nature numbers are the first, they supposed the\nelements of numbers to be the elements of all things.\u201d (Arist. Met. i. 5.)\n\nMusic and harmony too, played almost as important a part in the\nPythagorean system as mathematics, or numbers. His idea appears to be,\nthat order or harmony of relation is the regulating principle of the whole\nuniverse. He drew out a list of ten pairs of antagonistic elements, and in\nthe octave and its different harmonic relations, he believed that he found\nthe ground of the connexion between them. In his system of the universe\n_fire_ was the important element, occupying both the centre and the\nremotest point of it; and being the vivifying principle of the whole.\nRound the central fire the heavenly bodies he believed to move in a\nregular circle; furthest off were the fixed stars; and then, in order, the\nplanets, the moon, the sun, the earth, and what he called \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03c7\u03b8\u03c9\u03bd, a sort\nof other half of the earth, which was a distinct body from it, but moving\nparallel to it.\n\nThe most distant region he called Olympus; the space between the fixed\nstars and the moon he called \u03ba\u03cc\u03c3\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2; the space between the moon and the\nearth \u03bf\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03cc\u03c2. He, or at least his disciples, taught that the earth\nrevolved on its axis, (though Philolaus taught that its revolutions were\nnot round its axis but round the central fire). The universe itself they\nconsidered as a large sphere, and the intervals between the heavenly\nbodies they thought were determined according to the laws and relations of\nmusical harmony. And from this theory arose the doctrine of the Music of\nthe Spheres; as the heavenly bodies in their motion occasioned a sort of\nsound depending on their distances and velocities; and as these were\ndetermined by the laws of harmonic intervals, the sounds, or notes, formed\na regular musical scale.\n\nThe light and heat of the central fire he believed that we received\nthrough the sun, which he considered a kind of lens: and perfection, he\nconceived to exist in direct ratio to the distance from the central fire.\n\nThe universe, itself, they looked upon as having subsisted from all\neternity, controlled by an eternal supreme Deity; who established both\nlimits and infinity; and whom they often speak of as the absolute \u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u1f70\u03c2,\nor unity. He pervaded (though he was distinct from) and presided over the\nuniverse. Sometimes, too, he is called the absolute _Good_,\u2014while the\norigin of evil is attributed not to him, but to matter which prevented him\nfrom conducting everything to the best end.\n\nWith respect to man, the doctrine of Pythagoras was that known by the name\nof the Metempsychosis,\u2014that the soul after death rested a certain time\ntill it was purified, and had acquired a forgetfulness of what had\npreviously happened to it; and then reanimated some other body. The ethics\nof the Pythagoreans consisted more in ascetic practice and maxims for the\nrestraint of the passions, than in any scientific theories. Wisdom they\nconsidered as superior to virtue, as being connected with the\ncontemplation of the upper and purer regions, while virtue was conversant\nonly with the sublunary part of the world. Happiness, they thought,\nconsisted in the science of the perfection of the soul; or in the perfect\nscience of numbers; and the main object of all the endeavours of man was\nto be, to resemble the Deity as far as possible.\n\n_Alcm\u00e6on_ of Crotona was a pupil of Pythagoras; but that is all that is\nknown of his history. He was a great natural philosopher; and is said to\nhave been the first who introduced the practice of dissection. He is said,\nalso, to have been the first who wrote on natural philosophy. Aristotle,\nhowever, distinguishes between the principles of Alcm\u00e6on and Pythagoras,\nthough without explaining in what the difference consisted. He asserted\nthe immortality of the soul, and said that it partook of the divine\nnature, because, like the heavenly bodies themselves, it contained in\nitself the principle of motion.\n\n_Xenophanes_, the founder of the Eleatic school, was a native of Colophon;\nand flourished probably about the time of Pisistratus. Being banished from\nhis own country, he fled to the Ionian colonies in Sicily, and at last\nsettled in Elea, or Velia. His writings were chiefly poetical. He was\nuniversally regarded by the ancients as the originator of the doctrine of\nthe oneness of the universe: he also maintained, it is said, the unity of\nthe Deity; and also his immortality and eternity; denounced the\ntransference of him into human form; and reproached Homer and Hesiod for\nattributing to him human weaknesses. He represented him as endowed with\nunwearied activity, and as the animating power of the universe.\n\n_Heraclitus_ was an Ephesian, and is said to have been a pupil of\nXenophanes, though this statement is much doubted; others call him a pupil\nof Hippasus the Pythagorean. He wrote a treatise on Nature; declaring that\nthe principle of all things was fire, from which he saw the world was\nevolved by a natural operation; he further said that this fire was the\nhuman life and soul, and therefore a rational intelligence guiding the\nwhole universe. In this primary fire he considered that there was a\nperpetual longing to manifest itself in different forms: in its perfectly\npure state it is in heaven; but in order to gratify this longing it\ndescends, gradually losing the rapidity of its motion till it settles in\nthe earth. The earth, however, is not immovable, but only the slowest of\nall moving bodies; while the soul of man, though dwelling in the lowest of\nall regions, namely, in the earth, he considered a migrated portion of\nfire in its pure state; which, in spite of its descent, had lost none of\nits original purity. The _summum bonum_ he considered to be a contented\nacquiescence in the decrees of the Deity. None of his writings are extant;\nand he does not appear to have had many followers.\n\n_Diogenes_ of Apollonia, (who must not be confounded with his Stoic or\nCynic namesake,) was a pupil of Anaximenes, and wrote a treatise on\nNature, of which Diogenes Laertius gives the following account: \u201cHe\nmaintained that air was the primary element of all things; that there was\nan infinite number of worlds and an infinite vacuum; that air condensed\nand rarefied produced the different members of the universe; that nothing\nwas generated from nothing, or resolved into nothing; that the earth was\nround, supported in the centre, having received its shape from the\nwhirling round it of warm vapours, and its concrete nature and hardness\nfrom cold.\u201d He also imputed to air an intellectual energy, though he did\nnot recognise any difference between mind and matter.\n\n_Parmenides_ was a native of Elea or Velia, and flourished about 460 B.C.,\nsoon after which time he came to Athens, and became acquainted with\nSocrates, who was then very young. Theophrastus and Aristotle speak\ndoubtfully of his having been a pupil of Xenophanes. Some authors,\nhowever, reckon him as one of the Pythagorean school; Plato and Aristotle\nspeak of him as the greatest of the Eleatics; and it is said that his\nfellow-countrymen bound their magistrates every year to abide by the laws\nwhich he had laid down. He, like Xenophanes, explained his philosophical\ntenets in a didactic poem, in which he speaks of two primary forms, one\nthe fine uniform etherial fire of flame (\u03c6\u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c0\u1fe6\u03c1), the other the cold\nbody of night, out of the intermingling of which everything in the world\nis formed by the Deity who reigns in the midst. His cosmogony was carried\ninto minute detail, of which we possess only a few obscure fragments; he\nsomewhat resembled the Pythagoreans in believing in a spherical system of\nthe world, surrounded by a circle of pure light; in the centre of which\nwas the earth; and between the earth and the light was the circle of the\nMilky Way, of the morning and evening star, of the sun, the planets, and\nthe moon. And the differences in perfection of organization, he attributed\nto the different proportions in which the primary principles were\nintermingled. The ultimate principle of the world was, in his view,\nnecessity, in which Empedocles appears to have followed him; he seems to\nhave been the only philosopher who recognised with distinctness and\nprecision that the Existent, \u03c4\u1f78 \u1f44\u03bd, as such, is unconnected with all\nseparation or juxtaposition, as well as with all succession, all relation\nto space or time, all coming into existence, and all change. It is,\nhowever, a mistake to suppose that he recognised it as a Deity.\n\n_Democritus_ was born at Abdera, B.C. 460. His father Hegesistratus had\nbeen so rich as to be able to entertain Xerxes, when on his march against\nGreece. He spent his inheritance in travelling into distant countries,\nvisiting the greater part of Asia, and, according to some authors,\nextending his travels as far as India and \u00c6thiopia. Egypt he certainly was\nacquainted with. He lived to beyond the age of 100 years, and is said to\nhave died B.C. 357.\n\nHe was a man of vast and varied learning, and a most voluminous author,\nthough none of his works have come down to us;\u2014in them he carried out the\ntheory of atoms which he had derived from Leucippus; insisting on the\nreality of a vacuum and of motion, which he held was the eternal and\nnecessary consequence of the original variety of atoms in this vacuum.\nThese atoms, according to this theory, being in constant motion and\nimpenetrable, offer resistance to one another, and so create a whirling\nmotion which gives birth to worlds. Moreover, from this arise combinations\nof distinct atoms which become real things and beings. The first cause of\nall existence he called _chance_ (\u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7), in opposition to the \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 of\nAnaxagoras. But Democritus went further; for he directed his\ninvestigations especially to the discovery of causes.\n\nBesides the infinite number of atoms, he likewise supposed the existence\nof an infinite number of worlds, each being kept together by a sort of\nshell or skin. He derived the four elements from the form, quality, and\nproportionate magnitude of the atoms predominating in each; and in\nderiving individual things from atoms, he mainly considered the qualities\nof warm and cold; the soul he considered as derived from fire atoms; and\nhe did not consider mind as anything peculiar, or as a power distinct from\nthe soul or sensuous perception; but he considered knowledge derived from\nreason to be a sensuous perception.\n\nIn his ethical philosophy, he considered (as we may see from the _de\nFinibus_) the acquisition of peace of mind as the end and ultimate object\nof all our actions, and as the last and best fruit of philosophical\ninquiry. Temperance and moderation in prosperity and adversity were, in\nhis eyes, the principal means of acquiring this peace of mind. And he\ncalled those men alone pious and beloved by the Gods who hate whatever is\nwrong.\n\n_Empedocles_ was a Sicilian, who flourished about the time when\nThrasyd\u00e6us, the son of Theron, was expelled from Agrigentum, to the\ntyranny of which he had succeeded; in which revolution he took an active\npart: it is even said that the sovereignty of his native city was offered\nto and declined by him.\n\nHe was a man of great genius and extensive learning; it is not known whose\npupil he was, nor are any of his disciples mentioned except Gorgias. He\nwas well versed in the tenets of the Eleatic and Pythagorean schools; but\nhe did not adopt the fundamental principles of either; though he agreed\nwith Pythagoras in his belief in the metempsychosis, in the influence of\nnumbers, and in one or two other points; and with the Eleatics in\ndisbelieving that anything could be generated out of nothing. Aristotle\nspeaks of him as very much resembling in his opinions Democritus and\nAnaxagoras. He was the first who established the number of four elements,\nwhich had been previously pointed out one by one, partly as fundamental\nsubstances, and partly as transitive changes of things coming into\nexistence. He first suggested the idea of two opposite directions of the\nmoving power, an attractive and a repelling one: and he believed that\noriginally these two coexisted in a state of repose and inactivity. He\nalso assumed a periodical change of the formation of the world; or\nperhaps, like the philosophers of the pure Ionic school, a perpetual\ncontinuance of pure fundamental substances; to which the parts of the\nworld that are tired of change return, and prepare the formation of the\nsphere for the next period of the world. Like the Eleatics, he strove to\npurify the notion of the Deity, saying that he, \u201cbeing a holy infinite\nspirit, not encumbered with limbs, passes through the world with rapid\nthoughts.\u201d At the same time he speaks of the eternal power of Necessity as\nan ancient decree of the Gods, though it is not quite clear what he\nunderstood by this term.\n\n_Diagoras_ was a native of Melos, and a pupil of Democritus, and\nflourished about B.C. 435. He is remarkable as having been regarded by all\nantiquity as an Atheist. In his youth he had some reputation as a lyric\npoet; so that he is sometimes classed with Pindar, Simonides, and\nBacchylides. Aristophanes, in the Clouds, alludes to him where he calls\nSocrates \u201cthe Melian;\u201d not that he was so, but he means to hint that\nSocrates was an atheist as well as the Melian Diagoras. He lived at Athens\nfor many years till B.C. 411, when he fled from a prosecution instituted\nagainst him for impiety, according to Diodorus, but probably for some\noffence of a political nature; perhaps connected with the mutilation of\nthe Herm\u00e6.\n\nThat he was an atheist, however, appears to have been quite untrue. Like\nSocrates, he took new and peculiar views respecting the Gods and their\nworship; and seems to have ridiculed the honours paid to their statues,\nand the common notions which were entertained of their actions and\nconduct. (See De Nat. Deor. iii. 37.) He is said also to have attacked\nobjects held in the greatest veneration at Athens, such as the Eleusinian\nMysteries, and to have dissuaded people from being initiated into them. He\nappears also, in his theories on the divine nature, to have substituted in\nsome degree the active powers of nature for the activity of the Gods. In\nhis own conduct he was a man of strict morality and virtue. He died at\nCorinth before the end of the century.\n\n_Protagoras_ was a native of Abdera; the exact time of his birth is\nunknown, but he was a little older than Socrates. He was the first person\nwho gave himself the title of \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u1f74\u03c2, and taught for pay. He came to\nAthens early in life, and gave to the settlers who left it for Thurium,\nB.C. 445, a code of laws, or perhaps adapted the old laws of Charondas to\ntheir use. He was a friend of Pericles. After some time he was impeached\nfor impiety in saying, That respecting the Gods he did not know whether\nthey existed or not; and banished from Athens (see De Nat. Deor. i. 23).\nHe was a very prolific author: his most peculiar doctrines excited Plato\nto write the The\u00e6tetus to oppose them.\n\nHis fundamental principle was, that everything is motion, and that that is\nthe efficient cause of everything; that nothing _exists_, but that\neverything is continually _coming into existence_. He divided motion\n(besides numerous subordinate divisions) into active and passive; though\nhe did not consider either of these characteristics as permanent. From the\nconcurrence of two such motions he taught that sensations and perceptions\narose, according to the rapidity of the motion. Therefore he said that\nthere is or exists for each individual, only that of which he has a\nsensation or perception; and that as sensation, like its objects, is\nengaged in a perpetual change of motion, opposite assertions might exist\naccording to the difference of the perception respecting such object.\nMoral worth he attributed to taking pleasure in the beautiful; and virtue\nhe referred to a certain sense of shame implanted in man by nature; and to\na certain conscious feeling of justice, which secures the bonds of\nconnexion in private and political life.\n\n_Socrates_, the son of Sophroniscus, a statuary, and Ph\u00e6narete, a midwife,\nwas born B.C. 468. He lived all his life at Athens, serving indeed as a\nsoldier at Potid\u00e6a, Amphipolis, and in the battle of Delium; but with\nthese exceptions he never left the city; where he lived as a teacher of\nphilosophy; not, however, founding a school or giving lectures, but\nfrequenting the market-place and all other places of public resort,\ntalking with every one who chose to address him, and putting questions to\nevery one of every rank and profession, so that Grote calls him \u201ca public\ntalker for instruction.\u201d He believed himself to have a special religious\nmission from the Gods to bring his countrymen to knowledge and virtue. He\nwas at last impeached before the legal tribunals, on the ground of\n\u201ccorrupting the youth of the city, and not worshipping the Gods whom the\ncity worshipped;\u201d and disdaining to defend himself, or rather making a\njustificatory defence of such a character as to exasperate the judges, he\nwas condemned to death, and executed by having hemlock administered to\nhim, B.C. 399.\n\nFrom his disciples Plato and Xenophon we have a very full account of his\nhabits and doctrines; though it has been much disputed which of the two is\nto be considered as giving the most accurate description of his opinions.\nAs a young man he had been to a certain extent a pupil of Archelaus (the\ndisciple of Anaxagoras), and derived his fondness for the dialectic style\nof argument from Zeno the Eleatic, the favourite Pupil of Parmenides. He\ndiffered, however, from all preceding philosophers in discarding and\nexcluding wholly from his studies all the abstruse sciences, and limiting\nhis philosophy to those practical points which could have influence on\nhuman conduct. \u201cHe himself was always conversing about the affairs of\nmen,\u201d is the description given of him by Xenophon. Astronomy he pronounced\nto be one of the divine mysteries which it was impossible to understand\nand madness to investigate; all that man wanted was to know enough of the\nheavenly bodies to serve as an index to the change of seasons and as\nguides for voyages, etc.; and that knowledge might, he said, easily be\nobtained from pilots and watchmen. Geometry he reduced to its literal\nmeaning of land-measuring, useful to enable one to act with judgment in\nthe purchase or sale of land; but he looked with great contempt on the\nstudy of complicated diagrams and mathematical problems. As to general\nnatural philosophy, he wholly discarded it; asking whether those who\nprofessed to apply themselves to that study knew _human_ affairs so well\nas to have time to spare for _divine_; was it that they thought that they\ncould influence the winds, rain, and seasons, or did they desire nothing\nbut the gratification of an idle curiosity? Men should recollect how much\nthe wisest of them who have attempted to prosecute these investigations\ndiffer from one another, and how totally opposite and contradictory their\nopinions are.\n\nSocrates, then, looked at all knowledge from the point of view of human\npractice. He first, as Cicero says, (Tusc. Dis. v. 4,) \u201ccalled philosophy\ndown from heaven and established it in the cities, introduced it even into\nprivate houses, and compelled it to investigate life, and manners, and\nwhat was good and evil among men.\u201d He was the first man who turned his\nthoughts and discussions distinctly to the subject of Ethics. Deeply\nimbued with sincere religious feeling, and believing himself to be under\nthe peculiar guidance of the Gods, who at all times admonished him by a\ndivine warning voice when he was in danger of doing anything unwise,\ninexpedient, or improper, he believed that the Gods constantly manifested\ntheir love of and care for all men in the most essential manner, in\nreplying through oracles, and sending them information by sacrificial\nsigns or prodigies, in cases of great difficulty; and he had no doubt that\nif a man were diligent in learning all that the Gods permitted to be\nlearnt, and if besides he was assiduous in paying pious court to them and\nin soliciting special information by way of prophecy, they would be\ngracious to him and signify their purposes to him.\n\nSuch then being the capacity of man for wisdom and virtue, his object was\nto impart that wisdom to them; and the first step necessary, he considered\nto be eradicating one great fault which was a barrier to all improvement.\nThis fault he described as \u201cthe conceit of knowledge without the reality.\u201d\nHis friend and admirer Ch\u00e6rephon had consulted the oracle at Delphi as to\nwhether any man was wiser than Socrates; to which the priestess replied\nthat no other man was wiser. Socrates affirms that he was greatly\ndisturbed at hearing this declaration from so infallible an authority;\ntill after conversing with politicians, and orators, and poets, and men of\nall classes, he discovered not only that they were destitute of wisdom,\nbut that they believed themselves to be possessed of it; so that he was\nwiser than they, though wholly ignorant, inasmuch as he was conscious of\nhis own ignorance. He therefore considered his most important duty to be\nto convince men of their ignorance, and to excite them to remedy it, as\nthe indispensable preliminary to virtue; for virtue he defined as doing a\nthing well, after having learnt it and practised it by the rational and\nproper means; and whoever performed his duties best, whether he was a\nruler of a state or a husbandman, was the best and most useful man and the\nmost beloved by the Gods.\n\nAnd if his objects were new, his method was no less so. He was the parent\nof dialectics and logic. Aristotle says, \u201cTo Socrates we may\nunquestionably assign two novelties\u2014inductive discourses, and the\ndefinitions of general terms.\u201d Without any predecessor to copy, Socrates\nfell as it were instinctively into that which Aristotle describes as the\ndouble tract of the dialectic process, breaking up the one into the many,\nand recombining the many into the one; though the latter or synthetical\nprocess he did not often perform himself, but strove to stimulate his\nhearer\u2019s mind so as to enable him to do it for himself.\n\nThe fault of the Socratic theory is well remarked by Grote to be, that\nwhile he resolved all virtue into knowledge or wisdom, and all vice into\nignorance or folly, he omitted to notice what is not less essential to\nvirtue, the proper condition of the passions, desires, &c., and limited\nhis views too exclusively to the intellect; still while laying down a\ntheory which is too narrow, he escaped the erroneous consequences of it by\na partial inconsistency. For no one ever insisted more emphatically on the\nnecessity of control over the passions and appetites, of enforcing good\nhabits, and on the value of that state of the sentiments and emotions\nwhich such a course tended to form. He constantly pointed out that the\nchief pleasures were such as inevitably arise from the performance of\none\u2019s duty, and that as to happiness, a very moderate degree of good\nfortune is sufficient as to external things, provided the internal man be\nproperly disciplined.\n\nGrote remarks further, (and this remark is particularly worth remembering\nin the reading of Cicero\u2019s philosophical works,) that \u201cArcesilaus and the\nNew Academy thought that they were following the example of Socrates, (and\nCicero appears to have thought so too,) when they reasoned against\neverything, and laid it down as a system, that against every affirmative\nposition an equal force of negative argument could be brought as a\ncounterpoise: now this view of Socrates is, in my judgment, not only\npartial, but incorrect. He entertained no such doubts of the powers of the\nmind to attain certainty. About physics he thought man could know nothing;\nbut respecting the topics which concern man and society, this was the\nfield which the Gods had expressly assigned, not merely to human practice,\nbut to human study and knowledge; and he thought that every man, not only\nmight know these things, but ought to know them; that he could not\npossibly act well unless he did know them; and that it was his imperative\nduty to learn them as he would learn a profession, otherwise he was\nnothing better than a slave, unfit to be trusted as a free and accountable\nbeing. He was possessed by the truly Baconian idea, that the power of\nsteady moral action depended upon, and was limited by, the rational\ncomprehension of moral ends and means.\u201d\n\nThe system, then, of Socrates was animated by the truest spirit of\npositive science, and formed an indispensable precursor to its attainment.\nAnd we may form some estimate of his worth and genius if we recollect,\nthat while the systems and speculations of other ancient philosophers\nserve only as curiosities to make us wonder, or as beacons to warn us into\nwhat absurdities the ablest men may fall, the principles and the system of\nSocrates and his followers, and of that school alone, exercise to this day\nan important influence on all human argument and speculation.\n\n_Aristippus_ (whom we will consider before Plato, that Aristotle may\nfollow Plato more immediately) came when a young man to Athens, for the\nexpress purpose of becoming acquainted with Socrates, with whom he\nremained almost till his death. He was, however, very different from his\nmaster, being a person of most luxurious and sensual habits. He was also\nthe first of Socrates\u2019 disciples who took money for teaching. He was the\nfounder of the Cyrenaic school of philosophy, which followed Socrates in\nlimiting all philosophical inquiries to ethics; though under this name\nthey comprehended a more varied range of subjects than Socrates did,\ninasmuch as one of the parts into which they divided philosophy, referred\nto the feelings; another to causes, which is rather a branch of physics;\nand a third to proofs, which is clearly connected with logic.\n\nHe pronounced pleasure to be the chief good, and pain the chief evil; but\nhe denied that either of these was a mere negative inactive state,\nconsidering them, on the contrary, both to be motions of the soul,\u2014pain a\nviolent, and pleasure a moderate one.\n\nAs to actions, he asserted that they were all morally indifferent, that\nmen should only look to their results, and that law and custom are the\nonly authorities which make an action either good or bad. Whatever\nconduces to pleasure, he thought virtue; in which he agreed with Socrates\nthat the mind has the principal share.\n\n_Plato_, the greatest of all the disciples of Socrates, was the son of\nAriston and Perictione, and was born probably in the year B.C. 428, and\ndescended, on the side of his father, from Codrus, and on his mother\u2019s\nside related to Solon. At the age of twenty, he became a constant\nattendant of Socrates, and lived at Athens till his death. After this\nevent, in consequence of the unpopularity of the very name of his master,\nhe retired to Megara, and subsequently to Sicily. He is said also to have\nbeen at some part of his life, after the death of Socrates, a great\ntraveller. About twelve years after the death of Socrates he returned to\nAthens, and began to teach in the Academy, partly by dialogue, and partly,\nprobably, by connected lectures. He taught gratuitously; and besides\nSpeusippus, Xenocrates, Aristotle, Heraclides Ponticus, and others, who\nwere devoted solely to philosophical studies, he is said to have\noccasionally numbered Chabrias, Iphicrates, Timotheus, Phocion, Isocrates,\nand (by some) Demosthenes among his hearers. He died at a great age, B.C.\n347.\n\nHis works have come down to us in a more complete form than those of any\nother ancient author who was equally voluminous; and from them we get a\nclear idea of the principal doctrines which he inculcated on his\nfollowers.\n\nLike Socrates, he was penetrated with the idea, that knowledge and wisdom\nwere the things most necessary to man, and the greatest goods assigned to\nhim by God. Wisdom he looked on as the great purifier of the soul; and as\nany approach to wisdom presupposes an original communion with _Being_,\nproperly so called, this communion also presupposes the divine nature, and\nconsequent immortality of the soul, his doctrine respecting which was of a\nmuch purer and loftier character than the usual theology of the ancients.\nBelieving that the world also had a soul, he considered the human soul as\nsimilar to it in nature, and free from all liability to death, in spite of\nits being bound up with the appetites, in consequence of its connexion\nwith the body, and as preserving power and consciousness after its\nseparation from the body. What he believed, however, to be its condition\nafter death is far less certain, as his ideas on this subject are\nexpressed in a mythical form.\n\nThe chief point, however, to which Plato directed his attention, was\nethics, which, especially in his system, are closely connected with\npolitics. He devotes the Protagoras, and several shorter dialogues, to\nrefute the sensual and selfish theories of some of his predecessors, in\norder to adopt a more scientific treatment of the subject; and in these\ndialogues he urges that neither happiness nor virtue are attainable by the\nindulgence of our desires, but that men must bring these into proper\nrestraint, if they are desirous of either. He supposes an inward harmony,\nthe preservation of which is pleasure, while its disturbance is pain; and\nas pleasure is always dependent on the activity from which it springs, the\nmore this activity is elevated the purer the pleasure becomes.\n\nVirtue he considered the fitness of the soul for the operations that are\nproper to it; and it manifests itself by means of its inward harmony,\nbeauty, and health. Different phases of virtue are distinguishable so far\nas the soul is not pure spirit, but just as the spirit should rule both\nthe other elements of the soul, so also should wisdom, as the inner\ndevelopment of the spirit, rule the other virtues.\n\nPolitics he considered an inseparable part of ethics, and the state as the\ncopy of a well-regulated individual life: from the three different\nactivities of the soul he deduced the three main elements of the state,\nlikening the working class to the appetitive element of the soul, both of\nwhich equally require to be kept under control; the military order, which\nanswered, in his idea, to the emotive element, ought to develop itself in\nthorough dependence on the reason; and from that the governing order,\nanswering to the rational faculty, must proceed. The right of passing from\na subordinate to a dominant position must depend on the individual\ncapacity and ability for raising itself. But from the difficulties of\nrealizing his theories, he renounces this absolute separation of ranks in\nhis book on Laws, limits the power of the governors, attempts to reconcile\nfreedom with unity and reason, and to mingle monarchy with democracy.\n\nWith respect to his theology, he appears to have agreed entirely with\nSocrates.\n\n_Aristotle_ was born at Stageira, B.C. 384. His father, Nicomachus, was\nphysician to Amyntas II., king of Macedon. At the age of seventeen he went\nto Athens, in hopes to become a pupil of Plato; but Plato was in Sicily,\nand did not return for three years, which time Aristotle applied to severe\nstudy, and to cultivating the friendship of Heraclides Ponticus. When\nPlato returned, he soon distinguished him above all his other pupils. He\nremained at Athens twenty years, maintaining, however, his connexion with\nMacedonia; but on the death of Plato, B.C. 347, which happened while\nAristotle was absent in Macedonia on an embassy, he quitted Athens,\nthinking, perhaps, that travelling was necessary to complete his\neducation. After a short period, he accepted an invitation from Philip to\nsuperintend the education of Alexander. He remained in Macedonia till B.C.\n335, when he returned to Athens, where he found Xenocrates had succeeded\nSpeusippus as the head of the Academy. Here the Lyceum was appropriated to\nhim, in the shady walks (\u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03af\u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9) of which he delivered his lectures to\na number of eminent scholars who flocked around him. From these walks the\nname of Peripatetic was given to the School which he subsequently\nestablished. Like several others of the Greek philosophers, he had a\nselect body of pupils, to whom he delivered his esoteric doctrines; and a\nlarger, more promiscuous, and less accomplished company, to whom he\ndelivered his exoteric lectures on less abstruse subjects. When he had\nresided thirteen years at Athens, he found himself threatened with a\nprosecution for impiety, and fled to Chalcis, in Eub\u0153a, and died soon\nafter, B.C. 322.\n\nHis learning was immense, and his most voluminous writings embraced almost\nevery subject conceivable; but only a very small portion of them has come\ndown to us. Cicero, however, alludes to him only as a moral philosopher,\nand occasionally as a natural historian; so that it may be sufficient here\nfor us to confine our view of him to his teaching on the Practical\nSciences; his Ethics, too, being one of his works which has come down to\nus entire.\n\nGod he considered to be the highest and purest energy of eternal\nintellect,\u2014an absolute principle,\u2014the highest reason, the object of whose\nthought is himself; expanding and declaring, in a more profound manner,\nthe \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 of Anaxagoras. With respect to man, the object of all action, he\ntaught, was happiness: and this happiness he defines to be an energy of\nthe soul (or of life) according to virtue, existing by and for itself.\nVirtue, again, he subdivided into moral and intellectual, according to the\ndistinction between the reasoning faculty and that quality in the soul\nwhich obeys reason. Again, moral virtue is the proper medium between\nexcess and deficiency, and can only be acquired by practice; intellectual\nvirtue can be taught; and by the constant practice of moral virtue a man\nbecomes virtuous, but he can only practise it by a resolute determination\nto do so. Virtue, therefore, is defined further as a habit accompanied by,\nor arising out of, deliberate choice, and based upon free and conscious\naction. From these principles, Aristotle is led to take a wider view of\nvirtue than other philosophers: he includes friendship under this head, as\none of the very greatest virtues, and a principal means for a steady\ncontinuance in all virtue; and as the unrestricted exercise of each\nspecies of activity directed towards the good, produces a feeling of\npleasure, he considers pleasure as a very powerful means of virtue.\n\nConnected with Aristotle\u2019s system of ethics was his system of politics,\nthe former being only a part, as it were, of the latter; the former aiming\nat the happiness of individuals, the latter at that of communities; so\nthat the latter is the perfection and completion of the former. For\nAristotle looked upon man as a \u201cpolitical animal\u201d\u2014as a being, that is,\ncreated by nature for the state, and for living in the state; which, as a\ntotality consisting of organically connected members, is by nature prior\nto the individual or the family. The state he looked upon as a whole\nconsisting of mutually dependent and connected members, with reference as\nwell to imaginary as to actually existing constitutions. The constitution\nis the arrangement of the powers in the state\u2014the soul of the state, as it\nwere,\u2014according to which the sovereignty is determined. The laws are the\ndetermining principles, according to which the dominant body governs and\nrestrains those who would, and punishes those who do, transgress them. He\ndefines three kinds of constitutions, each of them having a corresponding\nperversion:\u2014a republic, arising from the principle of equality; this at\ntimes degenerates into democracy; monarchy, and aristocracy, which arise\nfrom principles of inequality, founded on the preponderance of external or\ninternal strength and wealth, and which are apt to degenerate into tyranny\nand oligarchy. The education of youth he considers as a principal concern\nof the state, in order that, all the individual citizens being trained to\na virtuous life, virtue may become predominant in all the spheres of\npolitical life; and, accordingly, by means of politics the object is\nrealized of which ethics are the groundwork, namely, human happiness,\ndepending on a life in accordance with virtue.\n\n_Heraclides_ Ponticus, as he is usually called, was, as his name denotes,\na native of Pontus. He migrated to Athens, where he became a disciple of\nPlato, who, while absent in Sicily, entrusted him with the care of his\nschool.\n\n_Speusippus_ was the nephew of Plato, and succeeded him as President of\nthe Academy; but he continued so but a short time, and, within eight years\nof the death of Plato, he died at Athens, B.C. 339. He refused to\nrecognise _the Good_ as the ultimate principle; but, going back to the\nolder theologians, maintained that the origin of the universe was to be\nset down indeed as a cause of the Good and Perfect, but was not the Good\nand Perfect itself; for that was the result of generated existence or\ndevelopment, just as plants are of the seeds. When, with the Pythagoreans,\nhe reckoned _the One_ in the series of good things, he probably thought of\nit only in opposition to _the Manifold_, and wished to point out that it\nis from _the One_ that _the Good_ is to be derived. He appears, however,\n(see De Nat. Deor. i. 13,) to have attributed vital activity to the\nprimordial unity, as inseparably belonging to it.\n\n_Theophrastus_ was a native of Eresus, from whence he migrated to Athens,\nwhere he became a follower of Plato, and afterwards of Aristotle, by whom,\nwhen he quitted Athens for Chalcis, he was designated as his successor in\nthe presidency of the Lyceum; while in this position, he is said to have\nhad two thousand disciples, and among them the comic poet Menander. When,\nB.C. 305, the philosophers were banished from Athens, he also left the\ncity, but returned the next year on the repeal of the law. He lived to a\ngreat age, though the date of his birth is not certainly known.\n\nHe was a very voluminous writer on many subjects, but directed his chief\nattention to continuing the researches into natural history which had been\nbegun by Aristotle. As, however, only a few fragments of his works have\ncome down to us, and these in a very corrupt state, we know but little\nwhat peculiar views he entertained; though we learn from Cicero (De Inv.\ni. 42-50) that he departed a good deal from the doctrines of Aristotle in\nhis principles of ethics, and also in his metaphysical and theological\nspeculations; and Cicero (De Nat. Deor. i. 13) complains that he did not\nexpress himself with precision or with consistency about the Deity; and in\nother places (Acad. i. 10, Tusc. Qu\u00e6st. v. 9), that he appeared unable to\ncomprehend a happiness resting merely on virtue; so that he had attributed\nto virtue a rank very inferior to its deserts.\n\n_Xenocrates_ was a native of Chalcedon, born probably B.C. 396. He was a\nfollower of Plato, and accompanied him to Sicily. After his death, he\nbetook himself, with Aristotle, to the court of Hermias, tyrant of\nPtarneus, but soon returned to Athens, and became president of the Academy\nwhen Speusippus, through ill health, was forced to abandon that post. He\ndied B.C. 314.\n\nHe was not a man of great genius, but of unwearied industry and the purest\nvirtue and integrity. None of his works have come down to us; but, from\nthe notices of other writers, we are acquainted with some of his peculiar\ndoctrines. He stood at the head of those who, regarding the universe as\nimperishable and existing from eternity, looked upon the chronic\nsuccession in the theory of Plato as a form in which to denote the\nrelations of conceptual succession. He asserted that the soul was a\nself-moving member,\u2014called Unity and Duality deities, considering the\nformer as the first male existence, ruling in heaven, father and Jupiter;\nthe latter as the female, as the mother of the Gods, and the soul of the\nuniverse, which reigns over the mutable world under heaven. He\napproximated to the Pythagoreans in considering Number as the principle of\nconsciousness, and consequently of knowledge; supplying, however, what was\ndeficient in the Pythagorean theory by the definition of Plato, that it is\nonly in as far as number reconciles the opposition between _the same_ and\nthe different, and can raise itself to independent motion, that it is\nsoul.\n\nIn his ethics he endeavoured to render the Platonic theory more complete,\nand to give it a more direct applicability to human life; admitting,\nbesides the good and the bad, of something which is neither good nor bad,\nand some of these intermediate things, such as health, beauty, fame, good\nfortune, he would not admit to be absolutely worthless and indifferent. He\nmaintained, however, in the most decided manner, that virtue is the only\nthing valuable in itself, and that the value of everything else is\nconditional, (see Cic. de Fin. iv. 18, de Leg. i. 21, Acad. i. 6, Tusc.\nQu\u00e6st. v. 10-18,) that happiness ought to coincide with the consciousness\nof virtue. He did not allow that mere intellectual scientific wisdom was\nthe only true wisdom to be sought after as such by men: and in one point\nhe came nearer the precepts of Christianity than any of the ancients, when\nhe asserted the indispensableness of the morality of the thoughts to\nvirtue, and declared it to be the same thing, whether a person cast\nlonging eyes on the possessions of his neighbour, or attempted to possess\nhimself of them by force.\n\n_Antisthenes_ was older than Plato; though the exact time of his birth is\nuncertain: but he fought at the battle of Tanagra, B.C. 420, though then\nvery young. He became a disciple of Gorgias, and afterwards of Socrates,\nat whose death he set up a school in the Cynosarges, a gymnasium for the\nuse of Athenians born of foreign mothers, near the temple of Hercules,\nfrom which place of assembly his followers were called Cynics. He lived to\na great age, though the year of his death is not known, but he certainly\nwas alive after the battle of Leuctra, B.C. 371.\n\nIn his philosophical system, which was almost confined to ethics, he\nappears to have aimed at novelty rather than truth or common sense. He\ntaught that in all that the wise man does he conforms to perfect virtue,\nand that pleasure is so far from being necessary to man, that it is a\npositive evil. He is reported also to have gone the length of pronouncing\npain and infamy blessings rather than evils, though when he spoke of\npleasure as worthless, he probably meant that pleasure which arises from\nthe gratification of sensual or artificial desires; for he praised that\nwhich arises from the intellect, and from friendship. The _summum bonum_\nhe placed in a life according to virtue.\n\nIn a treatise in which he discussed the nature of the Gods he contended\nfor the unity of the Deity, and asserted that man is unable to know him by\nany sensible representation, since he is unlike any being on earth; and\ndemonstrated the sufficiency of virtue for happiness, by the doctrine that\noutward events are regulated by God so as to benefit the wise and good.\n\n_Diogenes_, a native of Sinope in Pontus, who was born B.C. 412, was one\nof his few disciples; he came at an early age to Athens, and became\nnotorious for the most frantic excesses of moroseness and self-denial. On\na voyage to \u00c6gina he was taken by pirates and sold as a slave to Xeniades,\na Corinthian, over whom he acquired great influence, and was made tutor to\nhis children. His system consisted merely in teaching men to dispense with\neven the simplest necessaries of civilized life: and he is said to have\ntaught that all minds are air, exactly alike, and composed of similar\nparticles; but that in beasts and in idiots they are hindered from\nproperly developing themselves by various humors and incapacities of their\nbodies. He died B.C. 323, the same year that Epicurus came to Athens.\n\n_Zeno_ was born at Citium, a city of Cyprus; but having been shipwrecked\nnear Cyprus, he settled in that city, where he devoted himself to severe\nstudy for a great length of time, cultivating, it is said, the\nacquaintance of the philosophers of the Megaric school, Diodorus and\nPhilo, and of the Academics, Xenocrates and Polemo. After he had completed\nhis studies, he opened a school himself in the porch, adorned with the\npaintings of Polygnotus (\u03a3\u03c4\u03bf\u1f70 \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ba\u03af\u03bb\u03b7), from which his followers were\ncalled Stoics. The times of his birth and of his death are not known with\nany exactness; but he is said to have reached a great age.\n\nIn speaking of the Stoic doctrines, it is not very clear how much of them\nproceeded from Zeno himself, and how much from Chrysippus and other\neminent men of the school in subsequent years. In natural philosophy he\nconsidered that there was a primary matter which was never increased or\ndiminished, and which was the foundation of everything which existed: and\nwhich was brought into existence by the operative power,\u2014that is, by the\nDeity. He saw this operative power in fire and in \u00e6ther as the basis of\nall vital activity, (see Cic. Acad. i. 11, ii. 41; de Nat. Deor. ii. 9,\niii. 14,) and he taught that the universe comes into being when the\nprimary substance passing from fire through the intermediate stage of air\nbecomes liquefied, and then the thick portion becomes earth, the thinner\nportion air, which is again rarefied till it becomes fire. This fire he\nconceived to be identical with the Deity, (Cic. de Nat. Deor. ii. 22,) and\nto be endowed with consciousness and foresight. At other times he defined\nthe Deity as that law of nature which ever accomplishes what is right, and\nprevents the opposite, and identified it with unconditional necessity. The\nsoul of man he considered as being of the nature of fire, or of a warm\nbreath, (Cic. Tusc. Qu\u00e6st. i. 9; de Nat. Deor. iii. 4,) and therefore as\nmortal.\n\nIn ethics he agreed with the Cynics in recognising the constitutional\nnature of moral obligations, though he differed from them with respect to\nthings indifferent, and opposed their morose contempt for custom, though\nhe did not allow that the gratification of mere external wants, or that\nexternal good fortune, had any intrinsic value. He comprised everything\nwhich could make life happy in virtue alone (Cic. Acad. i. 10), and called\nit the only good which deserved to be striven after and praised for its\nown sake (Cic. de Fin. iii. 6, 8), and taught that the attainment of it\nmust inevitably produce happiness. But as virtue could, according to his\nsystem, only subsist in conjunction with the perfect dominion of reason,\nand vice only in the renunciation of the authority of reason, he inferred\nthat one good action could not be more virtuous than another, and that a\nperson who had one virtue had all, and that he who was destitute of one\nwas destitute of all.\n\n_Cleanthes_ was born at Assos in the Troas, about 300 B.C.; he came to\nAthens at an early age, and became the pupil of Zeno, whom at his death he\nsucceeded in his school. He differed from his master in regarding the soul\nas immortal, and approximated to the Cynics in denying that pleasure was\nagreeable to nature, or in any respect good. He died of voluntary\nstarvation at the age of eighty.\n\n_Chrysippus_ was born B.C. 280, at Soli in Cilicia. He came at an early\nage to Athens, and became a pupil of Cleanthes; and among the later Stoics\nhe was more regarded than either Zeno or Cleanthes. He died B.C. 207.\n\nHis doctrines do not appear to have differed from those of Zeno; only\nthat, from feeling the dangerous influence of the Epicurean principles, he\nendeavoured to popularize the Stoic ethics.\n\n_Epicurus_ was an Athenian of the Attic demos Gargettus, whence he is\nsometimes simply called the Gargettian. He was, however, born at Samos,\nB.C. 342, and did not come to Athens till the age of eighteen, when he\nfound Xenocrates at the head of the Academy, and by some authors is said\nto have become his pupil, though he himself would not admit it (Cic. de\nNat. Deor. i. 26). At the outbreak of the Samian war he crossed over to\nColophon, where he collected a school. It is said that the first thing\nthat excited him to the study of philosophy was the perusal of the works\nof Democritus while he resided at Colophon. From thence he went to\nMitylene and Lampsacus, and B.C. 306 he returned to Athens, and finally\nestablished himself as a teacher of philosophy. His own life was that of a\nman of simple, pure, and temperate habits. He died of the stone, B.C. 270,\nand left Hermarchus of Mitylene as his successor in the management of his\nschool.\n\nNone of his works have come down to us. With regard to his philosophical\nsystem, in spite of his boast of being self-taught and having borrowed\nfrom no one, he clearly derived the chief part of his natural philosophy\nfrom Democritus, and of his moral philosophy from Aristippus and the\nCyrenaics. He considered human happiness the end of all philosophy, and\nagreed with the Cyrenaics that pleasure constituted the greatest\nhappiness; still this theory in his hands acquired a far loftier\ncharacter; for pleasure, in his idea, was not a mere momentary and\ntransitory sensation, but something lasting and imperishable, consisting\nin pure mental enjoyments, and in the freedom from pain and any other\ninfluence which could disturb man\u2019s peace of mind. And the _summum bonum_,\naccording to him, consisted in this peace of mind; which was based upon\ncorrect wisdom (\u03c6\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2).\n\nIn his natural philosophy he embraced the atomic theories of Democritus\nand Diagoras, carrying them even further than they themselves had done, to\nsuch a degree that he drew upon himself the reproach of Atheism. He\nregarded the Gods themselves as consisting of atoms, and our notions of\nthem as based upon the images (\u03b5\u1f34\u03b4\u03c9\u03bb\u03b1) which are reflected from them, and\nso pass into our minds. And he believed that they exercised no influence\nwhatever on the world, or on the actions or fortunes of man.\n\n_Theodorus_ was a native of Cyrene, who flourished about B.C. 320. He was\nof the Cyrenaic sect, and the founder of that branch of it which was\ncalled after him, the Theodorean; though we scarcely know in what his\ndoctrines differed from those of Aristippus, unless they were, if\npossible, of a still more lax character. He taught, for instance, that\nthere was nothing really wrong or disgraceful in theft, adultery, or\nsacrilege; but that they were branded by public opinion to restrain fools.\nHe is also reproved with utter atheism; and Cicero classes him with\nDiagoras, as a man who utterly denied the existence of any Gods at all.\n\n_Pyrrho_ was a contemporary of Alexander the Great, whose expedition into\nAsia he joined. He appears, as far as his philosophy went, to have been an\nuniversal sceptic. He impeached, however, none of the chief principles of\nmorality, but, regarding Socrates as his model, directed all his\nendeavours towards the production in his pupils of a firm well-regulated\nmoral character.\n\n_Crantor_ was a native of Soli in Cilicia; we do not know when he was born\nor when he died, but he came to Athens before B.C. 315. He was the first\nof Plato\u2019s followers who wrote commentaries on the works of his master. He\ndied of dropsy, and left Arcesilaus his heir.\n\n_Arcesilaus_, or _Arcesilas_, flourished about B.C. 280; he was born at\nPitane, but came to Athens and became the pupil of Theophrastus and of\nCrantor, and afterwards of some of the more sceptical philosophers. On the\ndeath of Crantor he succeeded to the chair of the Academy, in the\ndoctrines of which he made so many innovations that he is called the\nfounder of the New Academy. What his peculiar views were is, however, a\nmatter of great uncertainty. Some give him the credit of having restored\nthe doctrines of Plato in an uncorrupted form; while, according to Cicero,\non the other hand, (Acad. i. 12,) he summed up all his opinions in the\nstatement that he knew nothing, not even his own ignorance. He, and the\nNew Academy, do not, however, seem to have doubted the existence of truth\nin itself, but only the capacity of man for arriving at the knowledge of\nit.\n\n_Carneades_ was born at Cyrene about B.C. 213. He went early to Athens,\nand at first attended the lectures of the Stoics; but subsequently\nattached himself to the Academy, and succeeded to the chair on the death\nof Hegesinus. In the year B.C. 155, he came to Rome on an embassy, but so\noffended Cato by speaking one day in praise of justice as a virtue, and\nthe next day, in answer to all his previous arguments, that he made a\nmotion in the senate, that he should be ordered to depart from Rome. He\ndied B.C. 129.\n\n_Philo_ of Larissa, who is often mentioned by Cicero, was his own master,\nhaving removed to Rome after the conquest of Athens by Mithridates, where\nhe settled as a teacher of philosophy and rhetoric. He would not admit\nthat there was any difference between the Old and New Academy, in which he\ndiffered from his pupil Antiochus. The exact time of his birth or death is\nnot known; but he was not living when Cicero composed his Academics. (ii.\n6.)\n\n_Antiochus_ of Ascalon has been called by some writers the founder of the\nFifth Academy; he also was a teacher of Cicero during the time he studied\nat Athens; he had also a school at Alexandria, and another in Syria, where\nhe died. He studied under Philo, but was so far from agreeing with him\nthat he wrote a treatise on purpose to refute what he considered as the\nscepticism of the Academics. And undoubtedly the later philosophers of\nthat school had exaggerated the teaching of Plato, that the senses were\nnot in all cases trustworthy organs of perception, so as to infer from it\na denial of the certainty of any knowledge whatever. Antiochus professed\nthat his object was to revive the real doctrines of Plato in opposition to\nthe modern scepticism of Carneades and Philo. He appears to have\nconsidered himself as an eclectic philosopher, combining the best parts of\nthe doctrines of the Academic, Peripatetic, and Stoic schools.\n\n_Diodorus_ of Tyre flourished about B.C. 110. He lived at Athens, where he\nsucceeded Critolaus as the head of the Peripatetic school. Cicero,\nhowever, denies that he was a genuine Peripatetic, and says that his\ndoctrine that the _summum bonum_ consisted in a combination of virtue with\nthe absence of pain was an attempt to reconcile the theory of the Stoics\nwith that of the Epicureans.\n\n_Pan\u00e6tius_ was a native of Rhodes; his exact age is not known, but he was\na contemporary of Scipio \u00c6milianus, who died B.C. 129. He went to Athens\nat an early age, where he is said to have been a pupil of Diogenes of\nBabylon and Antipater of Tarsus, and also of Polemo Periegetes. He became\nassociated with P. Scipio \u00c6milianus, who valued him highly. The latter\npart of his life he spent at Athens, where he had succeeded Antipater as\nhead of the Stoic school. He was the author of a treatise on \u201cWhat is\nBecoming,\u201d which Cicero professes to have imitated, though carried rather\nfurther, in his De Officiis. He softened down the harsher features of the\nStoic doctrines, approximating them in some degree to the opinions of\nXenocrates, Plato, and Aristotle, and made them attractive by the elegance\nof his style; indeed, he modified the principles of the school so much,\nthat some writers called him a Platonist. In natural philosophy he\nabandoned the Stoic doctrine of the conflagration of the world;\nendeavoured to simplify the division of the faculties of the soul; and\ndoubted the reality of the science of divination. In ethics he followed\nthe method of Aristotle; and, in direct opposition to the earlier Stoics,\nvindicated the claim of certain pleasurable sensations to be regarded as\nin accordance with nature.\n\n_Polemo_ was a pupil of Xenocrates, and succeeded him as the head of his\nschool. There is a story that he had been a very dissolute young man, and\nthat one day, at the head of a band of revellers, he burst into the school\nof Xenocrates, when his attention was so arrested by the discourse of the\nphilosopher, which happened to be on the subject of temperance, that he\ntore off his festive garland, remained till the end of the lecture, and\ndevoted himself to philosophy all the rest of his life. He does not appear\nto have varied at all from the doctrines of his master. He died B.C. 273.\n\n_Archytas_ was a native of Tarentum: his age is not quite certain, but he\nis believed to have been a contemporary of Plato, and he is even said to\nhave saved his life by his interest with the tyrant Dionysius. He was a\ngreat general and statesman, as well as a philosopher. In philosophy he\nwas a Pythagorean; and, like most of that school, a great mathematician;\nand applied his favourite science not only to music, but also to\nmetaphysics. Aristotle is believed to have borrowed from him his System of\nCategories.\n\nThe limits of this volume forbid more than the preceding very brief sketch\nof the chiefs of the ancient philosophy. For a more detailed account the\nreader is referred to the Biographical Dictionary edited by Dr. Smith,\nfrom which valuable work much of this sketch has been derived. The account\nof Socrates has been principally derived from Mr. Grote\u2019s admirable\nhistory of Greece: in which attention has so successfully been devoted to\nthe history of philosophy and the sophists, that a correct idea of the\nsubject can hardly be acquired without a careful study of that work.\n\nIt was intended to subjoin a comparison of the systems of the different\nsects, but it would take more space than can be spared; and it is moreover\nunnecessary, as, the distinctive tenets of each having been explained, the\nreader is supplied with sufficient materials to institute such a\ncomparison for himself. He will not wonder that men without the guidance\nof revelation should at times have lost their way in speculations beyond\nthe reach of human faculties, but will the more admire that genius and\nvirtue which manifested itself in such men as Socrates, Plato, and Cicero,\nfor the perpetual enlightenment of the human race.\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nThe following account of the two Books of the Academics is extracted from\nthe Dictionary of Greek and Roman Biography, edited by Dr. W. Smith:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe history of this work, before it finally quitted the hands of its\nauthor, is exceedingly curious and somewhat obscure; but must be clearly\nunderstood before we can explain the relative position of those portions\nof it which have been transmitted to modern times. By comparing carefully\na series of letters written to Atticus, in the course of B.C. 45 (Ep. ad\nAtt. xiii. 32;(1) 12, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23, 25, 35, 44), we find\nthat Cicero had drawn up a treatise upon the Academic Philosophy, in the\nform of a dialogue between Catulus, Lucullus, and Hortensius; and that it\nwas comprised in two books, the first bearing the name of Catulus, the\nsecond that of Lucullus. A copy was sent to Atticus; and, soon after it\nreached him, two new Introductions were composed, the one in praise of\nCatulus, the other in praise of Lucullus. Scarcely had this been done,\nwhen Cicero, from a conviction that Catulus, Lucullus, and Hortensius,\nalthough men of highly cultivated minds, and well acquainted with general\nliterature, were known to have been little conversant with the subtle\narguments of abstruse philosophy, determined to withdraw them altogether,\nand accordingly substituted Cato and Brutus in their place. Immediately\nafter this change had been introduced, he received a communication from\nAtticus, representing that Varro was much offended by being passed over in\nthe discussion of topics in which he was so deeply versed. Thereupon\nCicero, catching eagerly at the idea thus suggested, resolved to recast\nthe whole piece, and quickly produced, under the old title, a new and\nhighly improved edition, divided into four books instead of two,\ndedicating the whole to Varro, to whom was assigned the task of defending\nthe tenets of Antiochus; while Cicero himself undertook to support the\nviews of Philo, Atticus also taking a share in the conversation.\n\n\u201cBut, although these alterations had been effected with extreme rapidity,\nthe copy originally sent to Atticus had in the meantime been repeatedly\ntranscribed; hence both editions passed into circulation, and a part of\neach has been preserved. One section, containing twelve chapters, is a\nshort fragment of the second or Varronian edition. The other, containing\nforty-nine chapters, is the entire second book of the first edition; to\nwhich is prefixed the new introduction, together with the proper title of\nLucullus. The scene of the _Catulus_ was the villa of that statesman, at\nCum\u00e6; while the _Lucullus_ is supposed to have been held at the mansion of\nHortensius, near Bauli.\n\n\u201cThe object proposed was to give an account of the rise and progress of\nthe Academic Philosophy, to point out the various modifications introduced\nby successive professors, and to demonstrate the superiority of the\nprinciples of the New Academy, as taught by Philo, over those of the old,\nas advocated by Antiochus.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\nFIRST BOOK OF THE ACADEMIC QUESTIONS.\n\n\nI. When a short time ago my friend Atticus(2) was with me at my villa in\nthe district of Cum\u00e6, news was sent us by Marcus(3) Varro, that he had\narrived in Rome the day before in the evening, and that if he had not\nfound himself too tired after his journey he should have proceeded at once\nto see us. But when we heard this, we thought that we ought not to suffer\nanything to delay our seeing a man so intimately connected with us by an\nidentity of studies, and by a very long standing intimacy and friendship.\nAnd so we set out at once to go to see him; and when we were no great\ndistance from his villa we saw him coming towards us; and when we had\nembraced him, as the manner of friends is, after some time we accompanied\nhim back to his villa. And as I was asking a few questions, and inquiring\nwhat was the news at Rome, Never mind those things, said Atticus, which we\ncan neither inquire about nor hear of without vexation, but ask him rather\nwhether he has written anything new; for the muse of Varro has been silent\nmuch longer than usual; though I rather suppose he is suppressing for a\ntime what he has written, than that he has been really idle. You are quite\nwrong, said he; for I think it very foolish conduct in a man to write what\nhe wishes to have concealed. But I have a great work on hand; for I have\nbeen a long time preparing a treatise which I have dedicated to my friend\nhere, (he meant me,) which is of great importance, and is being polished\nup by me with a good deal of care.\n\nI have been waiting to see it a long time, Varro, said I, but still I have\nnot ventured to ask for it. For I heard from our friend Libo, with whose\nzeal you are well acquainted, (for I can never conceal anything of that\nkind,) that you have not been slackening in the business, but are\nexpending a great deal of care on it, and in fact never put it out of your\nhands. But it has never hitherto come into my mind to ask you about it;\nhowever now, since I have begun to commit to a durable record those things\nwhich I learnt in your company, and to illustrate in the Latin language\nthat ancient philosophy which originated with Socrates, I must ask you why\nit is that, while you write on so many subjects, you pass over this one,\nespecially when you yourself are very eminent in it; and when that study,\nand indeed the whole subject, is far superior in importance to all other\nstudies and arts.\n\nII. You are asking me, he replied, about a matter on which I have often\ndeliberated and frequently revolved in my mind. And, therefore, I will\nanswer you without any hesitation; still, however, speaking quite\noff-hand, because I have, as I said just now, thought over the subject\nboth deeply and frequently. For as I saw that philosophy had been\nexplained with great care in the Greek language, I thought that if any of\nour countrymen were engrossed by the study of it, who were well versed in\nGreek literature, they would be more likely to read Greek treatises than\nLatin ones: but that those men who were averse to Greek science and to the\nschools of the Greek philosophers would not care the least for such\nmatters as these, which could not be understood at all without some\nacquaintance with Greek literature. And, therefore, I did not choose to\nwrite treatises which unlearned men could not understand, and learned men\nwould not be at the trouble of reading. And you yourself are aware of\nthis. For you have learnt that we cannot resemble Amafanius(4) or\nRabirius,(5) who without any art discuss matters which come before the\neyes of every one in plain ordinary language, giving no accurate\ndefinitions, making no divisions, drawing no inferences by well-directed\nquestions, and who appear to think that there is no such thing as any art\nof speaking or disputing. But we, in obedience to the precepts of the\nlogicians and of orators also, as if they were positive laws, (since our\ncountrymen consider skill in each of these branches to be a virtue,) are\ncompelled to use words although they may be new ones; which learned men,\nas I have said before, will prefer taking from the Greeks, and which\nunlearned men will not receive even from us; so that all our labour may be\nundertaken in vain. But now, if I approved of the doctrines of Epicurus,\nthat is to say, of Democritus, I could write of natural philosophy in as\nplain a style as Amafanius. For what is the great difficulty when you have\nput an end to all efficient causes, in speaking of the fortuitous\nconcourse of corpuscules, for this is the name he gives to atoms. You know\nour system of natural philosophy, which depends upon the two principles,\nthe efficient cause, and the subject matter out of which the efficient\ncause forms and produces what it does produce. For we must have recourse\nto geometry, since, if we do not, in what words will any one be able to\nenunciate the principles he wishes, or whom will he be able to cause to\ncomprehend those assertions about life, and manners, and desiring and\navoiding such and such things?\n\nFor those men are so simple as to think the good of a sheep and of a man\nthe same thing. While you know the character and extent of the accuracy\nwhich philosophers of our school profess. Again, if you follow Zeno, it is\na hard thing to make any one understand what that genuine and simple good\nis which cannot be separated from honesty; while Epicurus asserts that he\nis wholly unable to comprehend what the character of that good may be\nwhich is unconnected with pleasures which affect the senses. But if we\nfollow the doctrines of the Old Academy which, as you know, we prefer,\nthen with what accuracy must we apply ourselves to explain it; with what\nshrewdness and even with what obscurity must we argue against the Stoics!\nThe whole, therefore, of that eagerness for philosophy I claim for myself,\nboth for the purpose of strengthening my firmness of conduct as far as I\ncan, and also for the delight of my mind. Nor do I think, as Plato says,\nthat any more important or more valuable gift has been given to men by the\ngods. But I send all my friends who have any zeal for philosophy into\nGreece; that is to say, I bid them study the Greek writers, in order to\ndraw their precepts from the fountain-head, rather than follow little\nstreams. But those things which no one had previously taught, and which\ncould not be learnt in any quarter by those who were eager on the subject,\nI have laboured as far as I could (for I have no great opinion of anything\nwhich I have done in this line) to explain to our fellow-countrymen. For\nthis knowledge could not be sought for among the Greeks, nor, after the\ndeath of our friend Lucius \u00c6lius,(6) among the Latins either. And yet in\nthose old works of ours which we composed in imitation of Menippus,(7) not\ntranslating him, sprinkling a little mirth and sportiveness over the whole\nsubject, there are many things mingled which are drawn from the most\nrecondite philosophy, and many points argued according to the rules of\nstrict logic; but I added these lighter matters in order to make the whole\nmore easy for people of moderate learning to comprehend, if they were\ninvited to read those essays by a pleasing style, displayed in panegyrics,\nand in the very prefaces of my books of antiquities. And this was my\nobject in adopting this style, however I may have succeeded in it.\n\nIII. The fact, I replied, is just as you say, Varro. For while we were\nsojourners, as it were, in our own city, and wandering about like\nstrangers, your books have conducted us, as it were, home again, so as to\nenable us at last to recognise who and where we were. You have discussed\nthe antiquity of our country, and the variety of dates and chronology\nrelating to it. You have explained the laws which regulate sacrifices and\npriests; you have unfolded the customs of the city both in war and peace;\nyou have described the various quarters and districts; you have omitted\nmentioning none of the names, or kinds, or functions, or causes of divine\nor human things; you have thrown a great deal of light on our poets, and\naltogether on Latin literature and on Latin expressions; you have yourself\ncomposed a poem of varied beauties, and elegant in almost every point; and\nyou have in many places touched upon philosophy in a manner sufficient to\nexcite our curiosity, though inadequate to instruct us.\n\nYou allege, indeed, a very plausible reason for this. For, you say, those\nwho are learned men will prefer reading philosophical treatises in Greek,\nand those who are ignorant of Greek will not read them even in Latin.\nHowever, tell me now, do you really agree with your own argument? I would\nrather say, those who are unable to read them in the one language will\nread them in the other; and even those who can read them in Greek will not\ndespise their own language. For what reason can be imagined why men\nlearned in Greek literature should read the Latin poets, and not read the\nLatin philosophers? Or again, if Ennius,(8) Pacuvius, Accius, and many\nothers who have given us, I will not say the exact expressions, but the\nmeaning of the Greeks, delight their readers; how much more will the\nphilosophers delight them, if, as the poets have imitated \u00c6schylus,\nSophocles, and Euripides, they in like manner imitate Plato, Aristotle,\nand Theophrastus? I see, too, that any orators among us are praised who\nimitate Hyperides or Demosthenes.\n\nBut I, (for I will speak the plain truth,) as long as ambition and the\npursuit of public honours and the pleading of causes, and not a mere\nregard for the republic, but even a certain degree of concern in its\ngovernment, entangled me in and hampered me with the numerous duties in\nwhich those occupations involved me; I kept, I say, all these matters to\nmyself, and brushed them up, when I could, by reading, to prevent their\ngetting rusty. But now, having been stricken to the ground by a most\nsevere blow of fortune, and being discharged from all concern in the\nrepublic, I seek a medicine for my sorrow in philosophy, and consider this\nstudy the most honourable pastime for my leisure. For I may look upon it\nas most suitable to my age, and most especially consistent with any\nmemorable exploits which I may have performed, and inferior to no other\noccupation in its usefulness for the purpose of educating my\nfellow-countrymen. Or even if this be too high a view to take of it, at\nall events I see nothing else which I can do. My friend Brutus, indeed, a\nman eminent for every kind of virtue, has illustrated philosophy in the\nLatin language in such a way that he has left Greece nothing to wish for\non those subjects. And he adopts the same opinions that you do. For he was\nfor some time a pupil of Aristus, at Athens, whose brother Antiochus was\nyour own preceptor. And therefore do you also, I entreat you, apply\nyourself to this kind of literature.\n\nIV. Then he replied. I will indeed consider of these matters, but only in\nyour company. But still, said he, what is this which I hear about you\nyourself? On what subject? said I. Why, that the old system is deserted by\nyou, and that you have espoused the principles of the new school. What of\nthat? said I. Why should Antiochus, my own intimate friend, be more at\nliberty to return back again from the new school to the old, than I myself\nto migrate to the new from the old? For certainly everything that is most\nrecent is corrected and amended in the highest degree; although Philo, the\nmaster of Antiochus, a great man, as you yourself consider him, used to\ndeny in his books that there were two Academies (and we ourselves have\nheard him assert the same things in his lectures); and he convicts those\nwho say that there are, of palpable mistake. It is as you say, said he,\nbut I do not imagine that you are ignorant of what Antiochus has written\nin reply to the arguments of Philo. Certainly, said I, I am not, and I\nshould like to hear the whole cause of the Old Academy, from which I have\nbeen so long absent, recapitulated by you, if it is not giving you too\nmuch trouble; and let us sit down now, if you have no objection. That will\nsuit me very well, said he, for I am not at all strong. But let us\nconsider whether Atticus will be pleased with that compliance of mine,\nwhich I see that you yourself are desirous of. Indeed I shall, said he;\nfor what could I prefer to being reminded of what I long ago heard from\nAntiochus, and seeing at the same time whether those ideas can be\nexpressed with sufficient suitableness in Latin? So after this preface we\nall sat down looking at one another. And Varro began as follows:\u2014\n\nSocrates appears to me, and indeed it is the universal opinion, to have\nbeen the first person who drew philosophy away from matters of an abstruse\ncharacter, which had been shrouded in mystery by nature herself, and in\nwhich all the philosophers before his time had been wholly occupied, and\nto have diverted it to the objects of ordinary life; directing its\nspeculations to virtues and vices, and generally to whatever was good or\nbad. And he thought that the heavenly bodies were either far out of the\nreach of our knowledge, or that, even if we became ever so intimately\nacquainted with them, they had no influence on living well. In nearly all\nhis discourses, which have been reported in great variety and very fully\nby those who were his pupils, he argues in such a manner that he affirms\nnothing himself, but refutes the assertions of others. He says that he\nknows nothing, except that one fact, that he is ignorant; and that he is\nsuperior to others in this particular, that they believe that they do know\nwhat they do not, while he knows this one thing alone, that he knows\nnothing. And it is on that account that he imagines he was pronounced by\nApollo the wisest of all men, because this alone is the whole of wisdom,\nfor a man not to think that he knows what he does not know. And as he was\nalways saying this, and persisting in the maintenance of this opinion, his\ndiscourse was entirely devoted to the praise of virtue, and to encouraging\nall men to the study of virtue; as may be plainly seen in the books of the\ndisciples of Socrates, and above all in those of Plato. But by the\ninfluence of Plato, a man of vast and varied and eloquent genius, a system\nof philosophy was established which was one and identical, though under\ntwo names; the system namely of the Academics and Peripatetics. For these\ntwo schools agreed in reality, and differed only in name. For when Plato\nhad left Speusippus, his sister\u2019s son, the inheritor as it were of his\nphilosophy, and also two pupils most eminent for industry and genius,\nXenocrates of Chalcedon, and Aristotle the Stagirite; those who adhered to\nAristotle were called Peripatetics, because they disputed while walking(9)\nin the Lyceum. And the others, who according to the fashion of Plato\nhimself were accustomed to hold their meetings and discussions in the\nAcademy, which is a second Gymnasium, took their name from the place where\nthey used to meet. But both these schools, being impregnated with the\ncopiousness of Plato, arranged a certain definite system of doctrine,\nwhich was itself copious and luxuriant; but abandoned the Socratic plan of\ndoubting on every subject, and of discussing everything without ever\nventuring on the assertion of a positive opinion. And thus there arose\nwhat Socrates would have been far from approving of, a certain art of\nphilosophy, and methodical arrangement, and division of the school, which\nat first, as I have already said, was one under two names. For there was\nno real difference between the Peripatetics and the old Academy.\nAristotle, at least such is my opinion, was superior in a certain\nluxuriance of genius; but both schools had the same source, and adopted\nthe same division of things which were to be desired and avoided. But what\nam I about? said he, interrupting himself; am I in my senses while I am\nexplaining these things to you? for although it may not be exactly a case\nof the pig teaching Minerva, still it is not very wise of any one to\nattempt to impart instruction to that goddess.\n\nV. I entreat you however, said Atticus, I entreat you to go on, Varro. For\nI am greatly attached to my own countrymen and to their works; and those\nsubjects delight me beyond measure when they are treated in Latin, and in\nsuch a manner as you treat them. And what, said I, do you think that I\nmust feel, who have already engaged to display philosophy to our nation?\nLet us then, said he, continue the subject, since it is agreeable to you.\n\nA threefold system of philosophising, then, was already received from\nPlato. One, on the subject of life and morals. A second, on nature and\nabstruse matters. The third, on discussion, and on what is true or false;\nwhat is right or wrong in a discourse; what is consistent or inconsistent\nin forming a decision.\n\nAnd that first division of the subject, that namely of living well, they\nsought in nature herself, and said that it was necessary to obey her; and\nthat that chief good to which everything was referred was not to be sought\nin anything whatever except in nature. And they laid it down that the\ncrowning point of all desirable things, and the chief good, was to have\nreceived from nature everything which is requisite for the mind, or the\nbody, or for life. But of the goods of the body, they placed some in the\nwhole, and others in the parts. Health, strength, and beauty in the whole.\nIn the parts, soundness of the senses, and a certain excellence of the\nindividual parts. As in the feet, swiftness; in the hands, strength; in\nthe voice, clearness; in the tongue, a distinct articulation of words. The\nexcellences of the mind they considered those which were suitable to the\ncomprehension of virtue by the disposition. And those they divided under\nthe separate heads of nature and morals. Quickness in learning and memory\nthey attributed to nature; each of which was described as a property of\nthe mind and genius. Under the head of \u201cmorals\u201d they classed our studies,\nand, I may say, our habits, which they formed, partly by a continuity of\npractice, partly by reason. And in these two things was contained\nphilosophy itself, in which that which is begun and not brought to its\ncompletion, is called a sort of advance towards virtue; but that which is\nbrought to completion is virtue, being a sort of perfection of nature and\nof all things which they place in the mind; the one most excellent thing.\nThese things then are qualities of the mind.\n\nThe third division was that of life. And they said that those things which\nhad influence in facilitating the practice of virtue were connected with\nthis division. For virtue is discerned in some good qualities of the mind\nand body, which are added not so much to nature as to a happy life. They\nthought that a man was as it were a certain part of the state, and of the\nwhole human race, and that he was connected with other men by a sort of\nhuman society. And this is the way in which they deal with the chief and\nnatural good. But they think that everything else is connected with it,\neither in the way of increasing or of maintaining it; as riches, power,\nglory, and influence. And thus a threefold division of goods is inferred\nby them.\n\nVI. And these are those three kinds which most people believe the\nPeripatetics speak of: and so far they are not wrong; for this division is\nthe work of that school. But they are mistaken if they think that the\nAcademicians\u2014those at least who bore this name at that time\u2014are different\nfrom the Peripatetics. The principle, and the chief good asserted by both\nappeared to be the same\u2014namely, to attain those things which were in the\nfirst class by nature, and which were intrinsically desirable; the whole\nof them, if possible, or, at all events, the most important of them. But\nthose are the most important which exist in the mind itself, and are\nconversant about virtue itself. Therefore, all that ancient philosophy\nperceived that a happy life was placed in virtue alone; and yet that it\nwas not the happiest life possible, unless the good qualities of the body\nwere added to it, and all the other things which have been already\nmentioned, which are serviceable towards acquiring a habit of virtue. From\nthis definition of theirs, a certain principle of action in life, and of\nduty itself, was discovered, which consisted in the preservation of those\nthings which nature might prescribe. Hence arose the avoidance of sloth,\nand contempt of pleasures; from which proceeded the willingness to\nencounter many and great labours and pains, for the sake of what was right\nand honourable, and of those things which are conformable to the objects\nof nature. Hence was generated friendship, and justice, and equity; and\nthese things were preferred to pleasure and to many of the advantages of\nlife. This was the system of morals recommended in their school, and the\nmethod and design of that division which I have placed first.\n\nBut concerning nature (for that came next), they spoke in such a manner\nthat they divided it into two parts,\u2014making one efficient, and the other\nlending itself, as it were, to the first, as subject matter to be worked\nupon. For that part which was efficient they thought there was power; and\nin that which was made something by it they thought there was some matter;\nand something of both in each. For they considered that matter itself\ncould have no cohesion, unless it were held together by some power; and\nthat power could have none without some matter to work upon; for that is\nnothing which is not necessarily somewhere. But that which exists from a\ncombination of the two they called at once body, and a sort of quality, as\nit were. For you will give me leave, in speaking of subjects which have\nnot previously been in fashion, to use at times words which have never\nbeen heard of (which, indeed, is no more than the Greeks themselves do,\nwho have been long in the habit of discussing these subjects).\n\nVII. To be sure we will, said Atticus. Moreover, you may even use Greek\nwords when you wish, if by chance you should be at a loss for Latin ones.\nYou are very kind; but I will endeavour to express myself in Latin, except\nin the case of such words as these\u2014_philosophia_, _rhetorica_, _physica_,\nor _dialectica_, which, like many others, fashion already sanctions, as if\nthey were Latin. I therefore have called those things _qualitates_\n(qualities), which the Greeks call \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03cc\u03c4\u03b7\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2\u2014a word which, even among the\nGreeks, is not one in ordinary use, but is confined to philosophers. And\nthe same rule applies to many other expressions. As for the Dialecticians,\nthey have no terms in common use: they use technical terms entirely. And\nthe case is the same with nearly every art; for men must either invent new\nnames for new things, or else borrow them from other subjects. And if the\nGreeks do this, who have now been engaged in such matters for so many\nages, how much more ought this licence to be allowed to us, who are now\nendeavouring to deal with these subjects for the first time? But, said I,\nO Varro, it appears to me that you will deserve well of your\nfellow-countrymen, if you enrich them, not only with an abundance of new\nthings, as you have done, but also of words. We will venture, then, said\nhe, to employ new terms, if it be necessary, armed with your authority and\nsanction.\n\nOf these qualities, then, said he, some are principal ones, and others\narise out of them. The principal ones are of one character and simple; but\nthose which arise out of them are various, and, as it were, multiform.\nTherefore, air (we use the Greek word \u1f00\u1f74\u03c1 as Latin), fire, water, and\nearth are principal ones; and out of them there arise the forms of living\ncreatures, and of those things which are produced out of the earth.\nTherefore, those first are called principles and (to translate the Greek\nword) elements: from which air and fire have the power of movement and\nefficiency: the other divisions\u2014I mean, water and the earth\u2014have the power\nof receiving, and, as it were, of suffering. The fifth class, from which\nthe stars and winds were formed, Aristotle considered to be a separate\nessence, and different from those four which I have mentioned above.\n\nBut they think that there is placed under all of these a certain matter\nwithout any form, and destitute of all quality (for we may as well, by\nconstant use, make this word more usual and notorious), from which all\nthings are sketched out and made; which can receive everything in its\nentirety, and can be changed in every manner and in every part. And also\nthat it perishes, not so as to become nothing, but so as to be dissolved\nwith its component parts, which again are able to be cut up and divided,\n_ad infinitum_; since there is absolutely nothing in the whole nature of\nthings which cannot be divided: and those things which are moved, are all\nmoved at intervals, which intervals again are capable of being infinitely\ndivided. And, since that power which we have called quality is moved in\nthis way, and is agitated in every direction, they think also that the\nwhole of matter is itself entirely changed, and so that those things are\nproduced which they call qualities, from which the world is made, in\nuniversal nature, cohering together and connected with all its divisions;\nand, out of the world, there is no such thing as any portion of matter or\nany body.\n\nAnd they say that the parts of the world are all the things which exist in\nit, and which are maintained by sentient nature; in which perfect reason\nis placed, which is also everlasting: for that there is nothing more\npowerful which can be the cause of its dissolution. And this power they\ncall the soul of the world, and also its intellect and perfect wisdom. And\nthey call it God, a providence watching over everything subject to its\ndominion, and, above all, over the heavenly bodies; and, next to them,\nover those things on earth which concern men: which also they sometimes\ncall necessity, because nothing can be done in a manner different from\nthat in which it has been arranged by it in a destined (if I may so say)\nand inevitable continuation of eternal order. Sometimes, too, they call it\nfortune, because it brings about many unforeseen things, which have never\nbeen expected by us, on account of the obscurity of their causes, and our\nignorance of them.\n\nVIII. The third part of philosophy, which is next in order, being\nconversant about reason and discussion, was thus handled by both schools.\nThey said that, although it originated in the senses, still the power of\njudging of the truth was not in the senses. They insisted upon it that\nintellect was the judge of things. They thought that the only thing\ndeserving of belief, because it alone discerned that which was always\nsimple and uniform, and which perceived its real character. This they call\n_idea_, having already received this name from Plato; and we properly\nentitle it _species_.\n\nBut they thought that all the senses were dull and slow, and that they did\nnot by any means perceive those things which appeared subjected to the\nsenses; which were either so small as to be unable to come under the\nnotice of sense, or so moveable and rapid that none of them was ever one\nconsistent thing, nor even the same thing, because everything was in a\ncontinual state of transition and disappearance. And therefore they called\nall this division of things one resting wholly on opinion. But they\nthought that science had no existence anywhere except in the notions and\nreasonings of the mind; on which account they approved of the definitions\nof things, and employed them on everything which was brought under\ndiscussion. The explanation of words also was approved of\u2014that is to say,\nthe explanation of the cause why everything was named as it was; and that\nthey called etymology. Afterwards they used arguments, and, as it were,\nmarks of things, for the proof and conclusion of what they wished to have\nexplained; in which the whole system of dialectics\u2014that is to say, of an\noration brought to its conclusion by ratiocination, was handed down. And\nto this there was added, as a kind of second part, the oratorical power of\nspeaking, which consists in developing a continued discourse, composed in\na manner adapted to produce conviction.\n\nIX. This was the first philosophy handed down to them by Plato. And if you\nlike I will explain to you those discussions which have originated in it.\nIndeed, said I, we shall be glad if you will; and I can answer for Atticus\nas well as for myself. You are quite right, said he; for the doctrine both\nof the Peripatetics and of the old Academy is most admirably explained.\n\nAristotle, then, was the first to undermine the doctrine of species, which\nI have just now mentioned, and which Plato had embraced in a wonderful\nmanner; so that he even affirmed that there was something divine in it.\nBut Theophrastus, a man of very delightful eloquence, and of such purity\nof morals that his probity and integrity were notorious to all men, broke\ndown more vigorously still the authority of the old school; for he\nstripped virtue of its beauty, and made it powerless, by denying that to\nlive happily depended solely on it. For Strato, his pupil, although a man\nof brilliant abilities, must still be excluded entirely from that school;\nfor, having deserted that most indispensable part of philosophy which is\nplaced in virtue and morals, and having devoted himself wholly to the\ninvestigation of nature, he by that very conduct departs as widely as\npossible from his companions. But Speusippus and Xenocrates, who were the\nearliest supporters of the system and authority of Plato,\u2014and, after them,\nPolemo and Crates, and at the same time Crantor,\u2014being all collected\ntogether in the Academy, diligently maintained those doctrines which they\nhad received from their predecessors. Zeno and Arcesilas had been diligent\nattenders on Polemo; but Zeno, who preceded Arcesilas in point of time,\nand argued with more subtilty, and was a man of the greatest acuteness,\nattempted to correct the system of that school. And, if you like, I will\nexplain to you the way in which he set about that correction, as Antiochus\nused to explain it. Indeed, said I, I shall be very glad to hear you do\nso; and you see that Pomponius intimates the same wish.\n\nX. Zeno, then, was not at all a man like Theophrastus, to cut through the\nsinews of virtue; but, on the other hand, he was one who placed everything\nwhich could have any effect in producing a happy life in virtue alone, and\nwho reckoned nothing else a good at all, and who called that honourable\nwhich was single in its nature, and the sole and only good. But as for all\nother things, although they were neither good nor bad, he divided them,\ncalling some according to, and others contrary to nature. There were\nothers which he looked upon as placed between these two classes, and which\nhe called intermediate. Those which were according to nature, he taught\nhis disciples, deserved to be taken, and to be considered worthy of a\ncertain esteem. To those which were contrary to nature, he assigned a\ncontrary character; and those of the intermediate class he left as\nneutrals, and attributed to them no importance whatever. But of those\nwhich he said ought to be taken, he considered some worthy of a higher\nestimation and others of a less. Those which were worthy of a higher\nesteem, he called _preferred_; those which were only worthy of a lower\ndegree, he called _rejected_. And as he had altered all these things, not\nso much in fact as in name, so too he defined some actions as\nintermediate, lying between good deeds and sins, between duty and a\nviolation of duty;\u2014classing things done rightly as good actions, and\nthings done wrongly (that is to say, sins) as bad actions. And several\nduties, whether discharged or neglected, he considered of an intermediate\ncharacter, as I have already said. And whereas his predecessors had not\nplaced every virtue in reason, but had said that some virtues were\nperfected by nature, or by habit, he placed them all in reason; and while\nthey thought that those kinds of virtues which I have mentioned above\ncould be separated, he asserted that that could not be done in any manner,\nand affirmed that not only the practice of virtue (which was the doctrine\nof his predecessors), but the very disposition to it, was intrinsically\nbeautiful; and that virtue could not possibly be present to any one\nwithout his continually practising it.\n\nAnd while they did not entirely remove all perturbation of mind from man,\n(for they admitted that man did by nature grieve, and desire, and fear,\nand become elated by joy,) but only contracted it, and reduced it to\nnarrow bounds; he maintained that the wise man was wholly free from all\nthese diseases as they might be called. And as the ancients said that\nthose perturbations were natural, and devoid of reason, and placed desire\nin one part of the mind and reason in another, he did not agree with them\neither; for he thought that all perturbations were voluntary, and were\nadmitted by the judgment of the opinion, and that a certain unrestrained\nintemperance was the mother of all of them. And this is nearly what he\nlaid down about morals.\n\nXI. But about natures he held these opinions. In the first place, he did\nnot connect this fifth nature, out of which his predecessors thought that\nsense and intellect were produced, with those four principles of things.\nFor he laid it down that fire is that nature which produces everything,\nand intellect, and sense. But he differed from them again, inasmuch as he\nthought it absolutely impossible for anything to be produced from that\nnature which was destitute of body; which was the character attributed by\nXenocrates and his predecessors to the mind, and he would not allow that\nthat which produced anything, or which was produced by anything, could\npossibly be anything except body.\n\nBut he made a great many alterations in that third part of his philosophy,\nin which, first of all, he said some new things of the senses themselves:\nwhich he considered to be united by some impulse as it were, acting upon\nthem from without, which he called \u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03af\u03b1, and which we may term\n_perception_. And let us recollect this word, for we shall have frequent\noccasion to employ it in the remainder of our discourse; but to these\nthings which are perceived, and as it were accepted by the senses, he adds\nthe assent of the mind, which he considers to be placed in ourselves and\nvoluntary. He did not give credit to everything which is perceived, but\nonly to those which contain some especial character of those things which\nare seen; but he pronounced what was seen, when it was discerned on\naccount of its own power, _comprehensible_\u2014will you allow me this word?\nCertainly, said Atticus, for how else are you to express \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2? But\nafter it had been received and approved, then he called it\n_comprehension_, resembling those things which are taken up\n(_prehenduntur_) in the hand; from which verb also he derived this noun,\nthough no one else had ever used this verb with reference to such matters;\nand he also used many new words, for he was speaking of new things. But\nthat which was comprehended by sense he called _felt_ (_sensum_,) and if\nit was so comprehended that it could not be eradicated by reason, he\ncalled it knowledge; otherwise he called it ignorance: from which also was\nengendered opinion, which was weak, and compatible with what was false or\nunknown. But between knowledge and ignorance he placed that comprehension\nwhich I have spoken of, and reckoned it neither among what was right or\nwhat was wrong, but said that it alone deserved to be trusted.\n\nAnd from this he attributed credit also to the senses, because, as I have\nsaid above, comprehension made by the senses appeared to him to be true\nand trustworthy. Not because it comprehended all that existed in a thing,\nbut because it left out nothing which could affect it, and because nature\nhad given it to us to be as it were a rule of knowledge, and a principle\nfrom which subsequently all notions of things might be impressed on our\nminds, from which not only principles, but some broader paths to the\ndiscovery of reason are found out. But error, and rashness, and ignorance,\nand opinion, and suspicion, and in a word everything which was\ninconsistent with a firm and consistent assent, he discarded from virtue\nand wisdom. And it is in these things that nearly all the disagreement\nbetween Zeno and his predecessors, and all his alteration of their system\nconsists.\n\nXII. And when he had spoken thus\u2014You have, said I, O Varro, explained the\nprinciples both of the Old Academy and of the Stoics with brevity, but\nalso with great clearness. But I think it to be true, as Antiochus, a\ngreat friend of mine, used to assert, that it is to be considered rather\nas a corrected edition of the Old Academy, than as any new sect. Then\nVarro replied\u2014It is your part now, who revolt from the principles of the\nancients, and who approve of the innovations which have been made by\nArcesilas, to explain what that division of the two schools which he made\nwas, and why he made it; so that we may see whether that revolt of his was\njustifiable. Then I replied\u2014Arcesilas, as we understand, directed all his\nattacks against Zeno, not out of obstinacy or any desire of gaining the\nvictory, as it appears to me, but by reason of the obscurity of those\nthings which had brought Socrates to the confession of ignorance, and even\nbefore Socrates, Democritus, Anaxagoras, Empedocles, and nearly all the\nancients; who asserted that nothing could be ascertained, or perceived, or\nknown: that the senses of man were narrow, his mind feeble, the course of\nhis life short, and that truth, as Democritus said, was sunk in the deep;\nthat everything depended on opinions and established customs; that nothing\nwas left to truth. They said in short, that everything was enveloped in\ndarkness; therefore Arcesilas asserted that there was nothing which could\nbe known, not even that very piece of knowledge which Socrates had left\nhimself. Thus he thought that everything lay hid in secret, and that there\nwas nothing which could be discerned or understood; for which reasons it\nwas not right for any one to profess or affirm anything, or sanction\nanything by his assent, but men ought always to restrain their rashness\nand to keep it in check so as to guard it against every fall. For rashness\nwould be very remarkable when anything unknown or false was approved of;\nand nothing could be more discreditable than for a man\u2019s assent and\napprobation to precede his knowledge and perception of a fact. And he used\nto act consistently with these principles, so as to pass most of his days\nin arguing against every one\u2019s opinion, in order that when equally\nimportant reasons were found for both sides of the same question, the\njudgment might more naturally be suspended, and prevented from giving\nassent to either.\n\nThis they call the New Academy, which however appears to me to be the old\none, if, at least, we reckon Plato as one of that Old Academy. For in his\nbooks nothing is affirmed positively, and many arguments are allowed on\nboth sides of a question; everything is investigated, and nothing positive\naffirmed. Still let the school whose principles I have explained, be\ncalled the Old Academy, and this other the New; which, having continued to\nthe time of Carneades, who was the fourth in succession after Arcesilas,\ncontinued in the same principles and system as Arcesilas. But Carneades,\nbeing a man ignorant of no part of philosophy, and, as I have learnt from\nthose who had been his pupils, and particularly from Zeno the Epicurean,\nwho, though he greatly differed from him in opinion, still admired him\nabove all other men, was also a person of incredible abilities...\n\n_The rest of this Book is lost._\n\n\n\n\n\nSECOND BOOK OF THE ACADEMIC QUESTIONS.\n\n\nI. Lucius Lucullus was a man of great genius, and very much devoted to the\nstudy of the most important arts; every branch of liberal learning worthy\nof a man of high birth, was thoroughly understood by him; but at the time\nwhen he might have made the greatest figure in the forum, he was wholly\nremoved from all participation in the business of the city. For while he\nwas very young, he, uniting with his brother, a man of equal sense of duty\nand diligence with himself, followed up the quarrel(10) bequeathed to him\nby his father to his own exceeding credit; afterwards having gone as\nqu\u00e6stor into Asia, he there governed the province for many years with\ngreat reputation. Subsequently he was made \u00e6dile in his absence, and\nimmediately after that he was elected pr\u00e6tor; for his services had been\nrewarded by an express law authorizing his election at a period earlier\nthan usual. After that he was sent into Africa; from thence he proceeded\nto the consulship, the duties of which he discharged in such a manner,\nthat every one admired his diligence, and recognised his genius.\nAfterwards he was sent by the Senate to conduct the war against\nMithridates, and there he not only surpassed the universal expectation\nwhich every one had formed of his valour, but even the glory of his\npredecessors. And that was the more admirable in him, because great skill\nas a general was not very much looked for in one who had spent his youth\nin the occupations of the forum, and the duration of his qu\u00e6storship in\npeace in Asia, while Murena was carrying on the war in Pontus. But the\nincredible greatness of his genius did not require the aid of experience,\nwhich can never be taught by precepts. Therefore, having devoted the whole\ntime occupied in his march and his voyage, partly to making inquiries of\nthose who were skilful in such matters, and partly in reading the accounts\nof great achievements, he arrived in Asia a perfect general, though he had\nleft Rome entirely ignorant of military affairs. For he had an almost\ndivine memory for facts, though Hortensius had a better one for words. But\nas in performing great deeds, facts are of more consequence than words,\nthis memory of his was the more serviceable of the two; and they say, that\nthe same quality was conspicuous in Themistocles, whom we consider beyond\nall comparison the first man in Greece. And a story is told of him, that,\nwhen some one promised to teach him the art of memory, which was then\nbeginning to be cultivated, he answered, that he should much prefer\nlearning to forget; I suppose, because everything which he had either\nheard or seen stuck in his memory.\n\nLucullus having this great genius, added to it that study which\nThemistocles had despised: therefore, as we write down in letters what we\nwish to commit to monuments, he, in like manner, had the facts engraved in\nhis mind. Therefore, he was a general of such perfect skill in every kind\nof war, in battles, and sieges, and naval fights, and in the whole\nequipment and management of war, that that king, the greatest that has\never lived since the time of Alexander, confessed, that he considered him\na greater general than any one of whom he had ever read. He also displayed\nsuch great prudence in arranging and regulating the affairs of the\ndifferent cities, and such great justice too, that to this very day, Asia\nis preserved by the careful maintenance of the regulations, and by\nfollowing as it were in the footsteps of Lucullus. But although it was\ngreatly to the advantage of the republic, still that great virtue and\ngenius was kept abroad at a distance from the eyes both of the forum and\nthe senate-house, for a longer time than I could have wished. Moreover,\nwhen he had returned victorious from the war against Mithridates, owing to\nthe calumnies of his adversaries, he did not celebrate his triumph till\nthree years later than he ought to have done. For I may almost say, that I\nmyself when consul led into the city the chariot of that most illustrious\nman, and I might enlarge upon the great advantage that his counsel and\nauthority were to me, in the most critical circumstances, if it were not\nthat to do so would compel me to speak of myself, which at this moment is\nnot necessary. Therefore, I will rather deprive him of the testimony due\nto him, than mix it up now with a commendation of myself.\n\nII. But as for those exploits of Lucullus, which were entitled to be\ncelebrated by the praises of the nation, they have been extolled both in\nGreek and Latin writings. For those outward exploits of his are known to\nus in common with the multitude; but his interior excellences (if I may so\ncall them) we and a few of his friends have learnt from himself. For\nLucullus used to apply himself to every kind of literature, and especially\nto philosophy, with greater eagerness than those who were not acquainted\nwith him believed. And he did so, not only at his first entrance into\nlife, but also when he was proqu\u00e6stor, as he was for several years, and\neven during the time of war itself, a time when men are usually so fully\noccupied with their military business, that very little leisure is left to\nthe general, even in his own tent. And as of all the philosophers of that\nday, Antiochus, who had been a pupil of Philo, was thought to excel in\ngenius and learning, he kept him about him while he was qu\u00e6stor, and some\nyears afterwards when he was general. And as he had that extraordinary\nmemory which I have mentioned already, by hearing frequently of things, he\narrived at a thorough acquaintance with them; as he recollected everything\nthat he had heard of only once. And he was wonderfully delighted in the\nreading books of which he heard any one speak.\n\nAnd I sometimes fear lest I may even diminish the glory of such characters\nas his, even while wishing to enhance it; for there are many people who\nare altogether averse to Greek literature, still more who have a dislike\nto philosophy, and men in general, even though they do not positively\ndisapprove of them, still think the discussion of such matters not\naltogether suitable for the chiefs of the state. But I, having heard that\nMarcus Cato learnt Greek in his old age, and learning from history that\nPan\u00e6tius was above all other men the chosen companion of Publius\nAfricanus, in that noble embassy which he was employed on before he\nentered on the censorship, think I have no need of any other instance to\njustify his study of Greek literature or of philosophy.\n\nIt remains for me to reply to those men who disapprove of such dignified\ncharacters being mixed up in discussions of this sort; as if the meetings\nof illustrious men were bound to be passed in silence, or their\nconversation to be confined to jesting, and all the topics to be drawn\nfrom trifling subjects. In truth, if in any one of my writings I have\ngiven philosophy its due praise, then surely its discussion is thoroughly\nworthy of every excellent and honourable man; nor is anything else\nnecessary to be taken care of by us, whom the Roman people has placed in\nour present rank, except that we do not devote to our private pursuits,\nthe time which ought to be bestowed on the affairs of the public. But if,\nwhile we are bound to discharge our duties, we still not only never omit\nto give our assistance in all public meetings, but never even write a\nsingle word unconnected with the forum, who then will blame our leisure,\nbecause even in that moment we are unwilling to allow ourselves to grow\nrusty and stupid, but take pains rather to benefit as many people as\npossible?\n\nAnd I think, that not only is the glory of those men not diminished, but\nthat it is even increased by our adding to their popular and notorious\npraises these also which are less known and less spoken of. Some people\nalso deny that those men who are introduced in our writings as disputants\nhad any knowledge of those affairs which are the subjects of discussion.\nBut they appear to me to be showing their envy, not only of the living but\nalso of the dead.\n\nIII. There remains one class of critics who disapprove of the general\nprinciples of the Academy. Which we should be more concerned at if any one\napproved of any school of philosophy except that which he himself\nfollowed. But we, since we are in the habit of arguing against every one\nwho appears to himself to know anything, cannot object to others also\ndissenting from us. Although our side of the question is an easier one,\nsince we wish to discover the truth without any dispute, and we seek for\nthat with the greatest anxiety and diligence. For although all knowledge\nis beset with many difficulties, and there is that obscurity in the things\nthemselves and that infirmity in our own judgment, that it is not without\nreason that the most learned and ancient philosophers have distrusted\ntheir power of discovering what they wished; yet they have not been\ndeficient in any respect, nor do we allow ourselves to abandon the pursuit\nof truth through fatigue; nor have our discussions ever any other object\nexcept that of, by arguing on each side, eliciting, and as it were,\nsqueezing out something which may either be the truth itself, or may at\nleast come as near as possible to it. Nor is there any difference between\nus and those people who fancy that they know something, except that they\ndo not doubt at all that those doctrines which they uphold are the truth,\nwhile we account many things as probable which we can adopt as our belief,\nbut can hardly positively affirm.\n\nAnd in this we are more free and unfettered than they are, because our\npower of judging is unimpeached, and because we are not compelled by any\nnecessity to defend theories which are laid upon as injunctions, and, if I\nmay say so, as commands. For in the first place, those of the other\nschools have been bound hand and foot before they were able to judge what\nwas best; and, secondly, before their age or their understanding had come\nto maturity, they have either followed the opinion of some friend, or been\ncharmed by the eloquence of some one who was the first arguer whom they\never heard, and so have been led to form a judgment on what they did not\nunderstand, and now they cling to whatever school they were, as it were,\ndashed against in a tempest, like sailors clinging to a rock. For as to\ntheir statement that they are wholly trusting to one whom they judge to\nhave been a wise man, I should approve of that if that were a point which\nthey, while ignorant and unlearned, were able to judge of, (for to decide\nwho is a wise man appears to me most especially the task of one who is\nhimself wise.) But they have either formed their opinion as well as they\ncould from a hearing of all the circumstances, and also from a knowledge\nof the opinions of philosophers of all the other schools; or else, having\nheard the matter mentioned once, they have surrendered themselves to the\nguidance of some one individual. But, I know not how it is, most people\nprefer being in error, and defending with the utmost pugnacity that\nopinion which they have taken a fancy to, to inquiring without any\nobstinacy what is said with the greatest consistency.\n\nAnd these subjects were very frequently and very copiously discussed by us\nat other times, and once also in the villa of Hortensius, which is at\nBauli, when Catulus, and Lucullus, and I myself had arrived there the day\nafter we had been staying with Catulus. And we had come thither rather\nearly in the day, because we had intended, if the wind was fair, to set\nsail, Lucullus for his villa near Naples, and I myself towards mine, in\nthe district of Pompeii. When, therefore, we had had a short conversation\non the terrace, we sat down where we were.\n\nIV. Then Catulus said,\u2014Although what we were inquiring into yesterday was\nalmost wholly explained in such a manner that nearly the whole question\nappears to have been discussed, still I long to hear what you promised to\ntell us, Lucullus, as being what you had learnt from Antiochus. I, indeed,\nsaid Hortensius, did more than I intended, for the whole matter ought to\nhave been left untouched for Lucullus, and indeed, perhaps it was: for I\nonly said such things as occurred to me at the moment; but I hope to hear\nsomething more recondite from Lucullus.\n\nLucullus rejoined, I am not much troubled, Hortensius, at your\nexpectation, although there is nothing so unfavourable for those who wish\nto give pleasure; but still, as I am not very anxious about how far I can\nprove to your satisfaction the arguments which I advance, I am the less\ndisturbed. For the arguments which I am going to repeat are not my own,\nnor such that, if they are incorrect, I should not prefer being defeated\nto gaining the victory; but, in truth, as the case stands at present,\nalthough the doctrines of my school were somewhat shaken in yesterday\u2019s\ndiscussion, still they do seem to me to be wholly true. I will therefore\nargue as Antiochus used to argue; for the subject is one with which I am\nwell acquainted. For I used to listen to his lectures with a mind quite\nunengaged, and with great pleasure, and, moreover, he frequently discussed\nthe same subject over again; so that you have some grounds for expecting\nmore from me than you had from Hortensius a little while ago. When he had\nbegun in this manner we prepared to listen with great attention.\n\nAnd he spoke thus:\u2014When I was at Alexandria, as proqu\u00e6stor, Antiochus was\nwith me, and before my arrival, Heraclitus, of Tyre, a friend of\nAntiochus, had already settled in Alexandria, a man who had been for many\nyears a pupil of Clitomachus and of Philo, and who had a great and\ndeserved reputation in that school, which having been almost utterly\ndiscarded, is now coming again into fashion; and I used often to hear\nAntiochus arguing with him; but they both conducted their discussions with\ngreat gentleness. And just at that time those two books of Philo which\nwere yesterday mentioned by Catulus had been brought to Alexandria, and\nhad for the first time come under the notice of Antiochus; and he, though\nnaturally a man of the mildest disposition, (nor indeed was it possible\nfor any one to be more peaceable than he was,) was nevertheless a little\nprovoked. I was surprised, for I had never seen him so before: but he,\nappealing to the recollection of Heraclitus, began to inquire of him\nwhether he had seen those works of Philo, or whether he had heard the\ndoctrines contained in them, either from Philo or from any one else of the\nAcademic school? And he said that he had not; however, he recognised the\nstyle of Philo, nor, indeed, could there be any doubt about it; for some\nfriends of mine, men of great learning, Publius and Caius Setilius, and\nTetrilius Rogus were present, who said that they heard Philo advance such\noperations at Rome; and who said that they had written out those two books\nfrom his dictation. Then Antiochus repeated what Catulus mentioned\nyesterday, as having been said to Philo by his father, and many other\nthings besides; nor did he forbear even to publish a book against his own\nmaster, which is called \u201cSosus.\u201d\n\nI therefore, then, as I was much interested in hearing Heraclitus arguing\nagainst Antiochus, and Antiochus against the Academicians, paid great\nattention to Antiochus, in order to learn the whole matter from him.\nAccordingly, for many days, collecting together Heraclitus and several\nlearned men, and among them Aristus, the brother of Antiochus, and also\nAriston and Dion, men whom he considered only second to his brother in\ngenius, we devoted a great deal of time to that single discussion.\n\nBut we must pass over that part of it which was bestowed on refuting the\ndoctrines of Philo; for he is a less formidable adversary, who altogether\ndenies that the Academicians advance those arguments which were maintained\nyesterday. For although he is quite wrong as to the fact, still he is a\nless invincible adversary. Let us speak of Arcesilas and Carneades.\n\nV. And having said this, he began again:\u2014You appear to me, in the first\nplace, (and he addressed me by name,) when you speak of the old natural\nphilosophers, to do the same thing that seditious citizens are in the\nhabit of doing when they bring forward some illustrious men of the\nancients, who they say were friends of the people, in the hope of being\nthemselves considered like them. They go back to Publius Valerius, who was\nconsul the first year after the expulsion of the kings. They enumerate all\nthe other men who have passed laws for the advantage of the people\nconcerning appeals when they were consuls; and then they come down to\nthese better known men, Caius Flaminius, who, as tribune of the people,\npassed an Agrarian law some years before the second Punic war, against the\nwill of the senate, and who was afterwards twice elected consul; to Lucius\nCassius and Quintus Pompeius; they are also in the habit of classing\nPublius Africanus in the same list; and they assert that those two\nbrothers of infinite wisdom and exceeding glory, Publius Crassus and\nPublius Sc\u00e6vola, were the advisers of Tiberius Gracchus, in the matter of\nthe laws which he proposed; the one, indeed, as we see, openly; the other,\nas we suspect, in a more concealed manner. They add also Caius Marius; and\nwith respect to him they speak truly enough: then, having recounted the\nnames of so many illustrious men, they say that they are acting up to\ntheir principles.\n\nIn like manner, you, when you are seeking to overturn a well-established\nsystem of philosophy, in the same way as those men endeavoured to overturn\nthe republic, bring forward the names of Empedocles, Anaxagoras,\nDemocritus, Parmenides, Xenophanes, and even Plato and Socrates. But\nSaturninus, (that I may name my own enemy rather than any one else,) had\nnothing in him resembling those ancient men; nor are the ungrounded\naccusations of Arcesilas to be compared to the modesty of Democritus. And\nyet those natural philosophers, though very seldom, when they have any\nvery great difficulty, make loud and violent outcries, as if under the\ninfluence of some great excitement, Empedocles, indeed, does so to such a\ndegree, that he appears to me at times to be mad, crying out that all\nthings are hidden, that we feel nothing, see nothing, and cannot find out\nthe true character of anything whatever. But for the most part all those\nmen appear to me to affirm some things rather too positively, and to\nprofess that they know more than they really do know. But if they then\nhesitated while discussing new subjects, like children lately born, are we\nfor that reason to think that nothing has been explained in so many ages\nby the greatest genius and the most untiring industry? May we not say\nthat, after the establishment of some wise and important schools of\nphilosophy, then, as Tiberius Gracchus arose in an excellent constitution,\nfor the purpose of throwing everything into confusion, so Arcesilas rose\nup to overturn the established philosophy, and to shelter himself under\nthe authority of those men who asserted that nothing could be known or\nperceived; in which number we ought not to include Plato or Socrates; the\none because he left behind him a most perfect school, namely, the\nPeripatetics and Academics, differing in name, but agreeing in all\nsubstantial matters: and from whom the Stoics themselves differ in words\nrather than in opinions. But Socrates, who always disparaged himself in\narguing, attributed more knowledge to those whom he wished to refute. So,\nas he was speaking differently from what he really thought, he was fond of\nusing that kind of dissimulation which the Greeks call \u03b5\u1f30\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03b1; which\nFannius says Africanus also was in the habit of indulging in, and that\nthat ought not be considered a bad habit in him, as it was a favourite\npractice of Socrates.\n\nVI. But, however, we will allow, if you like, that all those things were\nunknown to the ancients:\u2014was nothing effected then, by their being\nthoroughly investigated, after that Arcesilas, disparaging Zeno, (for that\nis supposed to have been his object,) as discovering nothing new, but only\ncorrecting previous changes of names, while seeking to upset his\ndefinitions, had attempted to envelop the clearest possible matters in\ndarkness? And his system, which was at first not at all approved of,\nalthough it was illustrated both by acute genius and by an admirable\nwittiness of language, was in the next generation adopted by no one but\nLacydes; but subsequently it was perfected by Carneades, who was the\nfourth in succession from Arcesilas; for he was the pupil of Hegesinus,\nwho had been the pupil of Evander, the disciple of Lacydes, and Lacydes\nhimself had been the pupil of Arcesilas; but Carneades maintained it for a\nlong time, for he lived ninety years; and those who had been his pupils\nhad a very high reputation, of whom Clitomachus displayed the most\nindustry, as the number of books which he composed testifies; nor was\nthere less brilliancy of genius in him than there was of eloquence in\nCharmadas, or of sweetness in Melanthius of Rhodes. But Metrodorus of\nStratonice was thought to be the one who had the most thorough\nunderstanding of Carneades. And your friend Philo attended the lectures of\nClitomachus for many years; but as long as Philo was alive the Academy was\nnever in want of a head.\n\nBut the business that we now propose to ourselves, of arguing against the\nAcademicians, appears to some philosophers, and those, too, men of no\nordinary calibre, to be a thing that ought not to be done at all; and they\nthink that there is no sense at all in, and no method of disputing with\nmen who approve of nothing; and they blame Antipater, the Stoic, who was\nvery fond of doing so, and say that there is no need of laying down exact\ndefinitions of what knowledge is, or perception, or, if we want to render\nword for word, comprehension, which they call \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03b7\u03c8\u03b9\u03c2; and they say that\nthose who wish to persuade men that there is anything which can be\ncomprehended and perceived, are acting ignorantly; because there is\nnothing clearer than \u1f10\u03bd\u03ac\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, as the Greeks call it, and which we may\ncall perspicuity, or evidentness if you like,\u2014coining words, if you will\npermit us to do so, that this fellow (meaning me) may not think that he is\nthe only person to whom such liberties are permitted. Still they thought\nthat no discourse could be found which should be more intelligible than\nevidentness itself; and they thought that there was no need of defining\nthings which were so clear.\n\nBut others declared that they would never be the first to speak in behalf\nof this evidentness; but they thought that a reply ought to be made to\nthose arguments which were advanced against it, to prevent any one being\ndeceived by them. There are also many men who do not disapprove of the\ndefinitions of the evident things themselves, and who think the subject\none worthy of being inquired into, and the men worthy of being argued\nwith.\n\nBut Philo, while he raises some new questions, because he was scarcely\nable to withstand the things which were said against the obstinacy of the\nAcademicians, speaks falsely, without disguise, as he was reproached for\ndoing by the elder Catulus; and also, as Antiochus told him, falls into\nthe very trap of which he was afraid. For as he asserted that there was\nnothing which could be comprehended, (for that is what we conceive to be\nmeant by \u1f00\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03b7\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2,) if that was, as Zeno defined it, such a perception,\n(for we have already spent time enough yesterday in beating out a word for\n\u03c6\u03b1\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03af\u03b1,) then a perception was extracted and produced out of that from\nwhich it originated, such as could be produced from that from which it did\nnot originate. And we say that this matter was most excellently defined by\nZeno; for how can anything be comprehended, so that you may feel\nabsolutely sure that it has been perceived and known, which is of such a\ncharacter that it is even possible that it may be false? Now when Philo\nupsets and denies this, he takes away also all distinction between what is\nknown and unknown; from which it follows that nothing can be comprehended;\nand so, without intending it, he is brought back to the point he least\nintended. Wherefore, all this discourse against the Academy is undertaken\nby us in order that we may retain that definition which Philo wished to\noverturn; and unless we succeed in that, we grant that nothing can be\nperceived.\n\nVII. Let us begin then with the senses\u2014the judgments of which are so clear\nand certain, that if an option were given to our nature, and if some god\nwere to ask of it whether it is content with its own unimpaired and\nuncorrupted senses, or whether it desires something better, I do not see\nwhat more it could ask for. Nor while speaking on this topic need you wait\nwhile I reply to the illustration drawn from a bent oar, or the neck of a\ndove; for I am not a man to say that everything which seems is exactly of\nthat character of which it seems to be. Epicurus may deal with this idea,\nand with many others; but in my opinion there is the very greatest truth\nin the senses, if they are in sound and healthy order, and if everything\nis removed which could impede or hinder them. Therefore we often wish the\nlight to be changed, or the situation of those things which we are looking\nat; and we either narrow or enlarge distances; and we do many things until\nour sight causes us to feel confidence in our judgment. And the same thing\ntakes place with respect to sounds, and smell, and taste, so that there is\nnot one of us who, in each one of his senses, requires a more acute\njudgment as to each sort of thing.\n\nBut when practice and skill are added, so that one\u2019s eyes are charmed by a\npicture, and one\u2019s ears by songs, who is there who can fail to see what\ngreat power there is in the senses? How many things do painters see in\nshadows and in projections which we do not see? How many beauties which\nescape us in music are perceived by those who are practised in that kind\nof accomplishment? men who, at the first note of the flute-player,\nsay,\u2014That is the Antiope, or the Andromache, when we have not even a\nsuspicion of it. There is no need for me to speak of the faculties of\ntaste or smell; organs in which there is a degree of intelligence, however\nfaulty it may be. Why should I speak of touch, and of that kind of touch\nwhich philosophers call the inner one, I mean the touch of pleasure or\npain? in which alone the Cyrenaics think that there is any judgment of the\ntruth, because pleasure or pain are felt. Can any one then say that there\nis no difference between a man who is in pain and a man who is in\npleasure? or can any one think that a man who entertains this opinion is\nnot flagrantly mad?\n\nBut such as those things are which we say are perceived by the senses,\nsuch also are those things which are said to be perceived, not by the\nsenses themselves, but by the senses after a fashion; as these things\u2014that\nis white, this is sweet, that is tuneful, this is fragrant, that is rough.\nWe have these ideas already comprehended by the mind, not by the senses.\nAgain, this is a house, that is a dog. Then the rest of the series\nfollows, connecting the more important links; such as these, which\nembrace, as it were, the full comprehension of things;\u2014If he is a man, he\nis a mortal animal partaking of reason:\u2014from which class of arguments the\nnotions of things are impressed upon us, without which nothing can be\nunderstood, nor inquired into, nor discussed. But if those notions were\nfalse, (for you seemed to me to translate \u1f14\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9 _notions_,) if, I say,\nthey were false, or impressed, or perceptions of such a kind as not to be\nable to be distinguished from false ones; then I should like to know how\nwe were to use them? and how we were to see what was consistent with each\nthing and what was inconsistent with it? Certainly no room at all is here\nleft for memory, which of all qualities is the one that most completely\ncontains, not only philosophy, but the whole practice of life, and all the\narts. For what memory can there be of what is false? or what does any one\nremember which he does not comprehend and hold in his mind? And what art\ncan there be except that which consists not of one, nor of two, but of\nmany perceptions of the mind? and if you take these away, how are you to\ndistinguish the artist from the ignorant man? For we must not say at\nrandom that this man is an artist, and deny that that man is; but we must\nonly do so when we see that the one retains the things which he has\nperceived and comprehended, and that the other does not. And as some arts\nare of that kind that one can only see the fact in one\u2019s mind, others such\nthat one can design and effect something, how can a geometrician perceive\nthose things which have no existence, or which cannot be distinguished\nfrom what is false? or how can he who plays on the lyre complete his\nrhythm, and finish verses? And the same will be the case with respect to\nsimilar arts, whose whole work consists in acting and in effecting\nsomething. For what is there that can be effected by art, unless the man\nwho exercises the art has many perceptions?\n\nVIII. And most especially does the knowledge of virtues confirm the\nassertion that many things can be perceived and comprehended. And in those\nthings alone do we say that science exists; which we consider to be not a\nmere comprehension of things, but one that is firm and unchangeable; and\nwe consider it also to be wisdom, the art of living which, by itself,\nderives consistency from itself. But if that consistency has no perception\nor knowledge about it, then I ask whence it has originated and how? I ask\nalso, why that good man who has made up his mind to endure every kind of\ntorture, to be torn by intolerable pain, rather than to betray his duty or\nhis faith, has imposed on himself such bitter conditions, when he has\nnothing comprehended, perceived, known, or established, to lead him to\nthink that he is bound to do so? It cannot, then, by any possibility be\nthe case that any one should estimate equity and good faith so highly as\nto shrink from no punishment for the sake of preserving them, unless he\nhas assented to those facts which cannot be false. But as to wisdom\nitself, if it be ignorant of its own character, and if it does not know\nwhether it be wisdom or not, in the first place, how is it to obtain its\nname of wisdom? Secondly, how will it venture to undertake any exploit, or\nto perform it with confidence, when it has nothing certain to follow? But\nwhen it doubts what is the chief and highest good, being ignorant to what\neverything is referred, how can it be wisdom?\n\nAnd that also is manifest, that it is necessary that there should be laid\ndown in the first place a principle which wisdom may follow when it begins\nto act; and that principle must be adapted to nature. For otherwise, the\ndesire, (for that is how I translate \u1f41\u03c1\u03bc\u1f74,) by which we are impelled to\nact, and by which we desire what has been seen, cannot be set in motion.\nBut that which sets anything in motion must first be seen and trusted,\nwhich cannot be the case if that which is seen cannot be distinguished\nfrom what is false. But how can the mind be moved to desire anything, if\nit cannot be perceived whether that which is seen is adapted to nature or\ninconsistent with it?\n\nAnd again, if it does not occur to a man\u2019s mind what his duty is, he will\nactually never do anything, he will never be excited to any action, he\nwill never be moved. But if he ever is about to do anything, then it is\nnecessary that that which occurs to him must appear to him to be true.\nWhat! But if those things are true, is the whole of reason, which is, as\nit were, the light and illumination of life, put an end to? And still will\nyou persist in that wrong-headedness? For it is reason which has brought\nmen the beginning of inquiry, which has perfected virtue, after reason\nherself had been confirmed by inquiry. But inquiry is the desire of\nknowledge; and the end of inquiry is discovery. But no one can discover\nwhat is false; nor can those things which continue uncertain be\ndiscovered. But when those things which have, as it were, been under a\nveil, are laid open, then they are said to be discovered; and so reason\ncontains the beginning of inquiry, and the end of perceiving and\ncomprehending. Therefore the conclusion of an argument, which in Greek is\ncalled \u1f00\u03c0\u03cc\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03be\u03b9\u03c2, is thus defined:\u2014Reason, which leads one from facts\nwhich are perceived, to that which was not perceived.\n\nIX. But if all things which are seen were of that sort that those men say\nthey are, so that they either could possibly be false, or that no\ndiscernment could distinguish whether they were false or not, then how\ncould we say that any one had either formed any conclusion, or discovered\nanything? Or what trust could be placed in an argument when brought to a\nconclusion? And what end will philosophy itself have, which is bound to\nproceed according to reason? And what will become of wisdom? which ought\nnot to doubt about its own character, nor about its decrees, which\nphilosophers call \u03b4\u03cc\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1; none of which can be betrayed without\nwickedness. For when a decree is betrayed, the law of truth and right is\nbetrayed too. From which fault betrayals of friendships and of republics\noften originate. It cannot, therefore be doubted, that no rule of wisdom\ncan possibly be false; and it ought not to be enough for the wise man that\nit is not false, but it ought also to be steady, durable, and lasting;\nsuch as no arguments can shake. But none can either be, or appear such,\naccording to the principle of those men who deny that those perceptions in\nwhich all rules originate are in any respect different from false ones;\nand from this assertion arose the demand which was repeated by Hortensius,\nthat you would at least allow that the fact that nothing can be perceived\nhas been perceived by the wise man. But when Antipater made the same\ndemand, and argued that it was unavoidable that the man who affirmed that\nnothing could be perceived should nevertheless admit that this one thing\ncould be perceived,\u2014namely, that nothing else could,\u2014Carneades resisted\nhim with great shrewdness. For he said that this admission was so far from\nbeing consistent with the doctrine asserted, that it was above all others\nincompatible with it: for that a man who denied that there was anything\nwhich could be perceived excepted nothing. And so it followed of\nnecessity, that even that very thing which was not excepted, could not be\ncomprehended and perceived in any possible manner.\n\nAntiochus, on this topic, seems to press his antagonist more closely. For\nsince the Academicians adopted that rule, (for you understand that I am\ntranslating by this word what they call \u03b4\u03cc\u03b3\u03bc\u03b1,) that nothing can be\nperceived, he urged that they ought not to waver in their rule as in other\nmatters, especially as the whole of their philosophy consisted in it: for\nthat the fixing of what is true and false, known and unknown, is the\nsupreme law of all philosophy. And since they adopted this principle, and\nwished to teach what ought to be received by each individual, and what\nrejected, undoubtedly, said he, they ought to perceive this very thing\nfrom which the whole judgment of what is true and false arises. He urged,\nin short, that there were these two principal objects in philosophy, the\nknowledge of truth, and the attainment of the chief good; and that a man\ncould not be wise who was ignorant of either the beginning of knowledge,\nor of the end of desire, so as not to know either where to start from, or\nwhither to seek to arrive at. But that to feel in doubt on these points,\nand not to have such confidence respecting them as to be unable to be\nshaken, is utterly incompatible with wisdom.\n\nIn this manner, therefore, it was more fitting to demand of them that they\nshould at least admit that this fact was perceived, namely, that nothing\ncould be perceived. But enough, I imagine, has been said of the\ninconsistency of their whole opinion, if, indeed, you can say that a man\nwho approves of nothing has any opinion at all.\n\nX. The next point for discussion is one which is copious enough, but\nrather abstruse; for it touches in some points on natural philosophy, so\nthat I am afraid that I may be giving the man who will reply to me too\nmuch liberty and licence. For what can I think that he will do about\nabstruse and obscure matters, who seeks to deprive us of all light? But\none might argue with great refinement the question,\u2014with how much\nartificial skill, as it were, nature has made, first of all, every animal;\nsecondly, man most especially;\u2014how great the power of the senses is; in\nwhat manner things seen first affect us; then, how the desires, moved by\nthese things, followed; and, lastly, in what manner we direct our senses\nto the perception of things. For the mind itself, which is the source of\nthe senses, and which itself is sense, has a natural power, which it\ndirects towards those things by which it is moved. Therefore it seizes on\nother things which are seen in such a manner as to use them at once;\nothers it stores up; and from these memory arises: but all other things it\narranges by similitudes, from which notions of things are engendered;\nwhich the Greeks call, at one time \u1f14\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9, and at another \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bb\u03ae\u03c8\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2. And\nwhen to this there is added reason and the conclusion of the argument, and\na multitude of countless circumstances, then the perception of all those\nthings is manifest, and the same reason, being made perfect by these\nsteps, arrives at wisdom.\n\nAs, therefore, the mind of man is admirably calculated for the science of\nthings and the consistency of life, it embraces knowledge most especially.\nAnd it loves that \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03b7\u03c8\u03b9\u03c2, (which we, as I have said, will call\n_comprehension_, translating the word literally,) for its own sake, (for\nthere is nothing more sweet than the light of truth,) and also because of\nits use; on which account also it uses the senses, and creates arts, which\nare, as it were, second senses; and it strengthens philosophy itself to\nsuch a degree that it creates virtue, to which single thing all life is\nsubordinate. Therefore, those men who affirm that nothing can be\ncomprehended, take away by their assertion all these instruments or\nornaments of life; or rather, I should say, utterly overturn the whole of\nlife, and deprive the animal itself of mind (_animo_), so that it is\ndifficult to speak of their rashness as the merits of the case require.\n\nNor can I sufficiently make out what their ideas or intentions really are.\nFor sometimes, when we address them with this argument,\u2014that if the\ndoctrines which we are upholding are not true, then everything must be\nuncertain: they reply,\u2014Well, what is that to us? is that our fault? blame\nnature, who, as Democritus says, has buried truth deep in the bottom of\nthe sea.\n\nBut others defend themselves more elegantly, who complain also that we\naccuse them of calling everything uncertain; and they endeavour to explain\nhow much difference there is between what is uncertain and what cannot be\nperceived, and to make a distinction between them. Let us, then, now deal\nwith those who draw this distinction, and let us abandon, as incurable and\ndesperate, those who say that everything is as uncertain as whether the\nnumber of the stars be odd or even. For they contend, (and I noticed that\nyou were especially moved by this,) that there is something probable, and,\nas I may say, likely; and that they adopt that likelihood as a rule in\nsteering their course of life, and in making inquiries and conducting\ndiscussions.\n\nXI. But what rule can there be, if we have no notion whatever of true or\nfalse, because it is impossible to distinguish one from the other? For, if\nwe have such a notion, then there must be a difference between what is\ntrue and what is false, as there is between what is right and what is\nwrong. If there is no difference, then there is no rule; nor can a man to\nwhom what is true and what is false appear under one common aspect, have\nany means of judging of, or any mark at all by which he can know the\ntruth. For when they say, that they take away nothing but the idea of\nanything being able to appear in such a manner that it cannot possibly\nappear false in the same manner but that they admit everything else, they\nare acting childishly. For though they have taken away that by which\neverything is judged of, they deny that they take away the rest; just as\nif a person were to deprive a man of his eyes, and then say that he has\nnot taken away from him those things which can be seen. For just as those\nthings are known by the eyes, so are the other things known by the\nperceptions; but by a mark belonging peculiarly to truth, and not common\nto what is true and false.\n\nWherefore, whether you bring forward a perception which is merely\nprobable, or one which is at once probable and free from all hindrance, as\nCarneades contended, or anything else that you may follow, you will still\nhave to return to that perception of which we are treating. But in it, if\nthere be but one common characteristic of what is false and true, there\nwill be no judgment possible, because nothing peculiar can be noted in one\nsign common to two things: but if there be no such community, then I have\ngot what I want; for I am seeking what appears to me to be so true, that\nit cannot possibly appear false.\n\nThey are equally mistaken when, being convicted and overpowered by the\nforce of truth, they wish to distinguish between what is evident and what\nis perceived, and endeavour to prove that there is something\nevident,\u2014being a truth impressed on the mind and intellect,\u2014and yet that\nit cannot be perceived and comprehended. For how can you say distinctly\nthat anything is white, when it may happen that that which is black may\nappear white? Or how are we to call those things evident, or to say that\nthey are impressed faithfully on the mind, when it is uncertain whether it\nis really moved or only in an illusory manner? And so there is neither\ncolour, nor body, nor truth, nor argument, nor sense, nor anything certain\nleft us. And, owing to this, it frequently happens that, whatever they\nsay, they are asked by some people,\u2014Do you, then, perceive that? But they\nwho put this question to them are laughed at by them; for they do not\npress them hard enough so as to prove that no one can insist upon any\npoint, or make any positive assertion, without some certain and peculiar\nmark to distinguish that thing which each individual says that he is\npersuaded of.\n\nWhat, then, is this probability of yours? For if that which occurs to\nevery one, and which, at its first look, as it were, appears probable, is\nasserted positively, what can be more trifling? But if your philosophers\nsay that they, after a certain degree of circumspection and careful\nconsideration, adopt what they have seen as such, still they will not be\nable to escape from us. First of all, because credit is equally taken from\nall these things which are seen, but between which there is no difference;\nsecondly, when they say that it can happen to a wise man, that after he\nhas done everything, and exercised the most diligent circumspection, there\nmay still be something which appears probable, and which yet is very far\nremoved from being true,\u2014how can they then trust themselves, even if they\n(to use their own expression) approach truth for the most part, or even if\nthey come as near to it as possible? For, in order to trust themselves,\nthe distinctive mark of truth ought to be thoroughly known to them; and if\nthat be obscure or concealed, what truth is there which they can seem to\nthemselves to arrive at? And what can be so absurd a thing to say as,\u2014This\nindeed is a sign of that thing, or a proof of it, and on that account I\nfollow it; but it is possible that that which is indicated may either be\nfalse, or may actually have no existence at all?\n\nXII. However, we have said enough about perception. For if any one wishes\nto invalidate what has been said, truth will easily defend itself, even if\nwe are absent.\n\nThese things, then, which have now been explained, being sufficiently\nunderstood, we will proceed to say a little on the subject of assent and\napprobation, which the Greeks call \u03c3\u03c5\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2. Not that the subject\nitself is not an extensive one, but because the foundations have been\nalready laid a little while ago. For when we were explaining what power\nthere was in the senses, this point was at the same time established, that\nmany things were comprehended and perceived by the senses, which is a\nthing which cannot take place without assent. Secondly, as this is the\nprincipal difference between an inanimate and an animated being, that the\ninanimate being does nothing, but the animated one does something (for it\nis impossible even to imagine what kind of animal that can be which does\nnothing)\u2014either sense must be taken from it, or else assent (which is\nwholly in our own power) must be given. But mind is in some degree denied\nto those beings whom they will not allow either to feel or to assent. For\nas it is inevitable that one scale of a balance must be depressed when a\nweight is put in it, so the mind, too, must yield to what is evident; for\njust as it is impossible for any animal to forbear discerning what is\nmanifestly suited to its nature (the Greeks call that \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd), so it is\nequally impossible for it to withhold its assent to a manifest fact which\nis brought under its notice.\n\nAlthough, if those principles which we have been maintaining are true,\nthere is no advantage whatever in discussing assent. For he who perceives\nanything, assents immediately. But these inferences also follow,\u2014that\nmemory can have no existence without assent, no more can notions of things\nor arts. And what is most important of all is, that, although some things\nmay be in our power, yet they will not be in the power of that man who\nassents to nothing. Where, then, is virtue, if nothing depends on\nourselves? But it is above all things absurd that vices should be in the\npower of the agents, and that no one should do wrong except by deliberate\nconsent to do so, and yet that this should not be the case with virtue;\nall the consistency and firmness of which depends on the things to which\nit has assented, and which it has approved. And altogether it is necessary\nthat something should be perceived before we act, and before we assent to\nwhat is perceived; wherefore, he who denies the existence of perception or\nassent, puts an end to all action in life.\n\nXIII. Now let us examine the arguments which are commonly advanced by this\nschool in opposition to these principles. But, first of all, you have it\nin your power to become acquainted with what I may call the foundations of\ntheir system. They then, first of all, compound a sort of art of those\nthings which we call perceptions, and define their power and kinds; and at\nthe same time they explain what the character of that thing which can be\nperceived and comprehended is, in the very same words as the Stoics. In\nthe next place, they explain those two principles, which contain, as it\nwere, the whole of this question; and which appear in such a manner that\neven others may appear in the same, nor is there any difference between\nthem, so that it is impossible that some of them should be perceived, and\nthat others should not be perceived; but that it makes no difference, not\nonly if they are in every part of the same character, but even if they\ncannot be distinguished.\n\nAnd when these principles are laid down, then these men comprehend the\nwhole cause in the conclusion of one argument. But this conclusion, thus\ncompounded, runs in this way: \u201cOf the things which are seen, some are true\nand some are false; and what is false cannot be perceived, but that which\nappears to be true is all of such a character that a thing of the same\nsort may seem to be also false. And as to those things which are perceived\nbeing of such a sort that there is no difference between them, it cannot\npossibly happen that some of them can be perceived, and that others\ncannot; there is, then, nothing seen which can really be perceived.\u201d\n\nBut of the axioms which they assume, in order to draw the conclusions\nwhich they desire, they think that two ought to be granted to them; for no\none objects to them. They are these: \u201cThat those perceptions which are\nfalse, cannot really be perceived;\u201d and the second is\u2014\u201cOf those\nperceptions between which there is no difference, it is impossible that\nsome should be of such a character that they can be perceived, and others\nof such a character that they cannot.\u201d\n\nBut their other propositions they defend by numerous and varied arguments,\nand they likewise are two in number. One is\u2014\u201cOf those things which appear,\nsome are true and others false;\u201d the other is\u2014\u201cEvery perception which\noriginates in the truth, is of such a character as it might be of, though\noriginating in what is false.\u201d And these two propositions they do not pass\nby, but they expand in such a manner as to show no slight degree of care\nand diligence. For they divide them into parts, and those also large\nparts; first of all into the senses, then into those things which are\nderived from the senses, and from universal custom, the authority of which\nthey wish to invalidate. Then they come to the point of laying it down\nthat nothing can be perceived even by reason and conjecture. And these\nuniversal propositions they cut up into more minute parts. For as in our\nyesterday\u2019s discussion you saw that they acted with respect to the senses,\nso do they also act with respect to everything else. And in each separate\nthing which they divide into the most minute parts, they wish to make out\nthat all these true perceptions have often false ones added to them, which\nare in no respect different from the true ones; and that, as they are of\nsuch a character, nothing can be comprehended.\n\nXIV. Now all this subtlety I consider indeed thoroughly worthy of\nphilosophy, but still wholly unconnected with the case which they advocate\nwho argue thus. For definitions, and divisions, and a discourse which\nemploys these ornaments, and also similarities and dissimilarities, and\nthe subtle and fine-drawn distinctions between them, belong to men who are\nconfident that those arguments which they are upholding are true, and\nfirm, and certain; and not to men who assert loudly that those things are\nno more true than false. For what would they do if, after they had defined\nanything, some one were to ask them whether that definition could be\ntransferred to something else? If they said it could, then what reason\ncould they give why it should be a true definition? If they said no,\u2014then\nit must be confessed, since that definition of what is true cannot be\ntransferred to what is false, that that which is explained by that\ndefinition can be perceived; which is the last thing they mean.\n\nThe same thing may be said on every article of the division. For if they\nsay that they see clearly the things about which they are arguing, and\nthey cannot be hindered by any similarity of appearance, then they will\nconfess that they are able to comprehend those things. But if they affirm\nthat true perceptions cannot be distinguished from false ones, how can\nthey go any further? For the same objections will be made to them which\nhave been made already; for an argument cannot be concluded, unless the\npremises which are taken to deduce the conclusion from are so established\nthat nothing of the same kind can be false.\n\nTherefore, if reason, relying on things comprehended and perceived, and\nadvancing in reliance on them, establishes the point that nothing can be\ncomprehended, what can be found which can be more inconsistent with\nitself? And as the very nature of an accurate discourse professes that it\nwill develop something which is not apparent, and that, in order the more\neasily to succeed in its object, it will employ the senses and those\nthings which are evident, what sort of discourse is that which is uttered\nby those men who insist upon it that everything has not so much an\nexistence as a mere appearance?\n\nBut they are convicted most of all when they assume, as consistent with\neach other, these two propositions which are so utterly incompatible:\nfirst of all,\u2014That there are some false perceptions;\u2014and in asserting this\nthey declare also that there are some which are true: and secondly, they\nadd at the same time,\u2014That there is no difference between true perceptions\nand false ones. But you assumed the first proposition as if there were\nsome difference; and so the latter proposition is inconsistent with the\nformer, and the former with the latter.\n\nBut let us proceed further, and act so as in no respect to seem to be\nflattering ourselves; and let us follow up what is said by them, in such a\nmanner as to allow nothing to be passed over.\n\nIn the first place, then, that evidentness which we have mentioned has\nsufficiently great power of itself to point out to us the things which are\njust as they are. But still, in order that we may remain with firmness and\nconstancy in our trust in what is evident, we have need of a greater\ndegree of either skill or diligence, in order not, by some sort of\njuggling or trick, to be driven away from those things which are clear of\nthemselves. For Epicurus, who wished to remedy those errors, which seem to\nperplex one\u2019s knowledge of the truth, and who said that it was the duty of\na wise man to separate opinion from evident knowledge, did no good at all;\nfor he did not in the least remove the errors of opinion itself.\n\nXV. Wherefore, as there are two causes which oppose what is manifest and\nevident, it is necessary also to provide oneself with an equal number of\naids. For this is the first obstacle, that men do not sufficiently exert\nand fix their minds upon those things which are evident, so as to be able\nto understand how great the light is with which they are surrounded. The\nsecond is, that some men, being deluded and deceived by fallacious and\ncaptious interrogatories, when they cannot clear them up, abandon the\ntruth. It is right, therefore, for us to have those answers ready which\nmay be given in defence of the evidentness of a thing,\u2014and we have already\nspoken of them,\u2014and to be armed, in order to be able to encounter the\nquestions of those people, and to scatter their captious objections to the\nwinds: and this is what I propose to do next.\n\nI will, therefore, explain their arguments one by one; since even they\nthemselves are in the habit of speaking in a sufficiently lucid manner.\n\nIn the first place, they endeavour to show that many things can appear to\nexist, which in reality have no existence; when minds are moved to no\npurpose by things which do not exist, in the same manner as by things that\ndo. For when you say (say they) that some visions are sent by God, as\nthose, for instance, which are seen during sleep, and those also which are\nrevealed by oracles, and auspices, and the entrails of victims, (for they\nsay that the Stoics, against whom they are arguing, admit all these\nthings,) they ask how God can make those things probable which appear to\nbe false; and how it is that He cannot make those appear so which plainly\ncome as near as possible to truth? Or if He can likewise make those appear\nprobable, why He cannot make the others appear so too, which are only with\ngreat difficulty distinguished from them? And if He can make these appear\nso, then why He cannot also make those things appear so which are\nabsolutely different in no respect whatever?\n\nIn the next place, since the mind is moved by itself,\u2014as those things\nwhich we picture to ourselves in thought, and those which present\nthemselves to the sight of madmen or sleeping men declare,\u2014is it not, say\nthey, probable that the mind is also moved in such a manner, that not only\nit does not distinguish between the perceptions, as to whether they be\ntrue or false, but that there really is no difference between them? As,\nfor instance, if any men of their own accord trembled and grew pale, on\naccount of some agitation of mind, or because some terrible object came\nupon them from without, there would be no means of distinguishing one\ntrembling and paleness from the other, nor indeed would there be any\ndifference between the external and internal alarm which caused them.\n\nLastly, if no perceptions are probable which are false, then we must seek\nfor other principles; but if they are probable, then why may not one say\nthe same of such as are not easily distinguished from one another? Why not\nalso of such as have actually no difference at all between them?\nEspecially when you yourselves say that the wise man when enraged\nwithholds himself from all assent, because there is no distinction between\nhis perceptions which is visible to him.\n\nXVI. Now on all these empty perceptions Antiochus brought forward a great\nmany arguments, and one whole day was occupied in the discussion of this\nsubject. But I do not think that I ought to adopt the same course, but\nmerely to give the heads of what he said.\n\nAnd in the first place, they are blameable in this, that they use a most\ncaptious kind of interrogation. And the system of adding or taking away,\nstep by step, minute items from a proposition, is a kind of argument very\nlittle to be approved of in philosophy. They call it sorites,(11) when\nthey make up a heap by adding grain after grain; a very vicious and\ncaptious style of arguing. For you mount up in this way:\u2014If a vision is\nbrought by God before a man asleep of such a nature as to be probable\n(_probabile_), why may not one also be brought of such a nature as to be\nvery like truth (_verisimile_)? If so, then why may not one be brought\nwhich can hardly be distinguished from truth? If so, then why may there\nnot be one which cannot be distinguished at all? If so, then why may there\nnot be such that there is actually no difference between them?\u2014If you come\nto this point because I have granted you all the previous propositions, it\nwill be my fault; but if you advance thither of your own accord, it will\nbe yours. For who will grant to you either that God can do everything, or\nthat even if He could He would act in that manner? And how do you assume\nthat if one thing may be like another, it follows that it may also be\ndifficult to distinguish between them? And then, that one cannot\ndistinguish between them at all? And lastly, that they are identical? So\nthat if wolves are like dogs, you will come at last to asserting that they\nare the same animals. And indeed there are some things not honourable,\nwhich are like things that are honourable; some things not good, like\nthose that are good; some things proceeding on no system, like others\nwhich are regulated by system. Why then do we hesitate to affirm that\nthere is no difference between all these things? Do we not even see that\nthey are inconsistent? For there is nothing that can be transferred from\nits own genus to another. But if such a conclusion did follow, as that\nthere was no difference between perceptions of different genera, but that\nsome could be found which were both in their own genus and in one which\ndid not belong to them, how could that be possible?\n\nThere is then one means of getting rid of all unreal perceptions, whether\nthey be formed in the ideas, which we grant to be usually the case, or\nwhether they be owing to idleness, or to wine, or to madness. For we say\nthat clearness, which we ought to hold with the greatest tenacity, is\nabsent from all visions of that kind. For who is there who, when he\nimagines something and pictures it to himself in his thoughts, does not,\nas soon as he has stirred up himself, and recovered himself, feel how much\ndifference there is between what is evident and what is unreal? The case\nof dreams is the same. Do you think that Ennius, when he had been walking\nin his garden with Sergius Galba, his neighbour, said to himself,\u2014I have\nseemed to myself to be walking with Galba? But when he had a dream, he\nrelated it in this way,\u2014\n\n\n    The poet Homer seem\u2019d to stand before me.\n\n\nAnd again in his Epicharmus he says\u2014\n\n\n    For I seem\u2019d to be dreaming, and laid in the tomb.\n\n\nTherefore, as soon as we are awakened, we despise those things which we\nhave seen, and do not regard them as we do the things which we have done\nin the forum.\n\nXVII. But while these visions are being beheld, they assume the same\nappearance as those things which we see while awake. There is a good deal\nof real difference between them; but we may pass over that. For what we\nassert is, that there is not the same power or soundness in people when\nasleep that there is in them while waking, either in intellect or in\nsensation. What even drunken men do, they do not do with the same\ndeliberate approbation as sober men. They doubt, they hesitate, they check\nthemselves at times, and give but a feeble assent to what they see or\nagree too. And when they have slept off their drunkenness, then they\nunderstand how unreal their perceptions were. And the same thing is the\ncase with madmen; that when their madness is beginning, they both feel and\nsay that something appears to them to exist that has no real existence.\nAnd when their frenzy abates, they feel and speak like Alcm\u00e6on;\u2014\n\n\n    But now my heart does not agree\n    With that which with my eyes I see.\n\n\nBut even in madness the wise man puts restraint upon himself, so far as\nnot to approve of what is false as if it were true. And he does so often\nat other times, if there is by chance any heaviness or slowness in his\nsenses, or if those things which are seen by him are rather obscure, or if\nhe is prevented from thoroughly examining them by the shortness of the\ntime. Although the whole of this fact, that the wise man sometimes\nsuspends his assent, makes against you. For if there were no difference\nbetween his perceptions, he would either suspend it always or never.\n\nBut from the whole character of this discussion we may see the worthless\nnature of the argument of those men who wish to throw everything into\nconfusion. We want judgment, marked with gravity, consistency, firmness,\nand wisdom: and we use the examples of men dreaming, mad, or drunk. I\npress this point, that in all this discussion we are speaking with great\ninconsistency. For we should not bring forward men sunk in wine or sleep,\nor deprived of sense, in such an absurd manner as at one time to say there\nis a difference between the perceptions of men awake and sober and\nsensible, and those of men in a different condition, and at other times\nthat there was no difference at all.\n\nThey do not even perceive that by this kind of argument they are making\nout everything to be uncertain, which they do not wish to do. I call that\nuncertain which the Greeks call \u1f04\u03b4\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd. For if the fact be that there is\nno difference between the appearance that a thing presents to a madman and\nto a person in his senses, then who can feel quite sure of his own sanity?\nAnd to wish to produce such an effect as that is a proof of no ordinary\nmadness. But they follow up in a childish manner the likenesses of twins,\nor of impressions of rings. For who of us denies that there are such\nthings as likenesses, when they are visible in numbers of things? But if\nthe fact of many things being like many other things is sufficient to take\naway knowledge, why are you not content with that, especially as we admit\nit? And why do you rather insist upon that assertion which the nature of\nthings will not suffer, that everything is not in its own kind of that\ncharacter of which it really is? and that there is a conformity without\nany difference whatever in two or more things; so that eggs are entirely\nlike eggs, and bees like bees? What then are you contending for? or what\ndo you seek to gain by talking about twins? For it is granted that they\nare alike; and you might be content with that. But you try to make them\nout to be actually the same, and not merely alike; and that is quite\nimpossible.\n\nThen you have recourse to those natural philosophers who are so greatly\nridiculed in the Academy, but whom you will not even now desist from\nquoting. And you tell us that Democritus says that there are a countless\nnumber of worlds, and that there are some which are not only so like one\nanother, but so completely and absolutely equal in every point, that there\nis no difference whatever between them, and that they are quite\ninnumerable; and so also are men. Then you require that, if the world be\nso entirely equal to another world that there is absolutely not the\nslightest difference between them, we should grant to you that in this\nworld of ours also there must be something exactly equal to something\nelse, so that there is no difference whatever or distinction between them.\nFor why, you will say, since there not only can be, but actually are\ninnumerable Quinti Lutatii Catuli formed out of those atoms, from which\nDemocritus affirms that everything is produced, in all the other worlds,\nwhich are likewise innumerable,\u2014why may not there be a second Catulus\nformed in this identical world of ours, since it is of such a size as we\nsee it?\n\nXVIII. First of all I reply, that you are bringing me to the arguments of\nDemocritus, with whom I do not agree. And I will the more readily refute\nthem, on account of that doctrine which is laid down very clearly by the\nmore refined natural philosophers, that everything has its own separate\nproperty. For grant that those ancient Servilii who were twins were as\nmuch alike as they are said to have been, do you think that that would\nhave made them the same? They were not distinguished from one another out\nof doors, but they were at home. They were not distinguished from one\nanother by strangers, but they were by their own family. Do we not see\nthat this is frequently the case, that those people whom we should never\nhave expected to be able to know from one another, we do by practice\ndistinguish so easily that they do not appear to be even in the least\nalike?\n\nHere, however, you may struggle; I will not oppose you. Moreover, I will\ngrant that that very wise man who is the subject of all this discussion,\nwhen things like one another come under his notice, in which he has not\nremarked any special character, will withhold his assent, and will never\nagree to any perception which is not of such a character as a false\nperception can never assume. But with respect to all other things he has a\ncertain art by which he can distinguish what is true from what is false;\nand with respect to those similitudes he must apply the test of\nexperience. As a mother distinguishes between twins by the constant\npractice of her eyes, so you too will distinguish when you have become\naccustomed to it. Do you not see that it has become a perfect proverb that\none egg is like another? and yet we are told that at Delos (when it was a\nflourishing island) there were many people who used to keep large numbers\nof hens for the sake of profit; and that they, when they had looked upon\nan egg, could tell which hen had laid it. Nor does that fact make against\nour argument; for it is sufficient for us to be able to distinguish\nbetween the eggs. For it is impossible for one to assent to the\nproposition that this thing is that thing more, than by admitting that\nthere is actually no difference at all between the two. For I have laid it\ndown as a rule, to consider all perceptions true which are of such a\ncharacter as those which are false cannot be. And from this I may not\ndepart one finger\u2019s breadth, as they say, lest I should throw everything\ninto confusion. For not only the knowledge of what is true and false, but\ntheir whole nature too, will be destroyed if there is no difference\nbetween one and the other. And that must be very absurd which you\nsometimes are in the habit of saying, when perceptions are imprinted on\nthe mind, that what you say is, not that there is no difference between\nthe impressions, but only that there is none between certain appearances\nand forms which they assume. As if perceptions were not judged of by their\nappearance, which can deserve or obtain no credit if the mark by which we\nare to distinguish truth from falsehood be taken away.\n\nBut that is a monstrous absurdity of yours, when you say that you follow\nwhat is probable when you are not hindered by anything from doing so. In\nthe first place, how can you avoid being hindered, when what is false does\nnot differ from what is true? Secondly, what judgment can be formed of\nwhat is true, when what is true is undistinguishable from what is false?\nFrom these facts there springs unavoidably \u1f10\u03c0\u03bf\u03c7\u1f74, that is to say, a\nsuspension of assent: for which Arcesilas is more consistent, if at least\nthe opinions which some people entertain of Carneades are correct. For if\nnothing can be perceived, as they both agree in thinking, then all assent\nis taken away. For what is so childish as to talk of approving of what is\nnot known? But even yesterday we heard that Carneades was in the habit, at\ntimes, of descending to say that a wise man would be guided by opinion,\nthat is to say, would do wrong. To me, indeed, it is not so certain that\nthere is anything which can be comprehended, a question which I have now\nspent too much time in discussing, as that a wise man is never guided by\nopinion, that is to say, never assents to anything which is either false\nor unknown.\n\nThere remains this other statement of theirs, that for the sake of\ndiscovering the truth, one ought to speak against every side, and in\nfavour of every side. I wish then to see what they have discovered. We are\nnot in the habit, says he, of showing that. What then is the object of all\nthis mystery? or why do you conceal your opinion as something\ndiscreditable? In order, says he, that those who hear us may be influenced\nby reason rather than led by authority. What if they are influenced by\nboth? would there be any harm in that? However, they do not conceal one of\ntheir theories, namely, that there is nothing which can be conceived. Is\nauthority no hindrance to entertaining this opinion? It seems to me to be\na great one. For who would ever have embraced so openly and undisguisedly\nsuch perverse and false principles, if there had not been such great\nrichness of ideas and power of eloquence in Arcesilas, and, in a still\ngreater degree, in Carneades?\n\nXIX. These are nearly the arguments which Antiochus used to urge at\nAlexandria, and many years afterwards, with much more positiveness too, in\nSyria, when he was there with me, a little before he died. But, as my case\nis now established, I will not hesitate to warn you, as you are my dearest\nfriend, (he was addressing me,) and one a good deal younger than myself.\n\nWill you, then, after having extolled philosophy with such panegyrics, and\nprovoked our friend Hortensius, who disagrees with us, now follow that\nphilosophy which confounds what is true with what is false, deprives us of\nall judgment, strips us of the power of approval, and robs us of all our\nsenses? Even the Cimmerians, to whom some god, or nature, or the foulness\nof the country that they inhabited, had denied the light of the sun, had\nstill some fires which they were permitted to avail themselves of as if\nthey were light. But those men whom you approve of, after having enveloped\nus in such darkness, have not left us a single spark to enable us to look\naround by. And if we follow them, we become bound with such chains that we\ncannot move. For when assent is taken away, they take away at the same\ntime all motion of our minds, and all our power of action; which not only\ncannot be done rightly, but which cannot possibly be done at all. Beware,\nalso, lest you become the only person who is not allowed to uphold that\nopinion. Will you, when you have explained the most secret matters and\nbrought them to light, and said on your oath that you have discovered\nthem, (which, indeed, I could swear to also, since I learnt them from\nyou,)\u2014will you, I say, assert that there is nothing which can be known,\ncomprehended, or perceived? Beware, I entreat you, lest the authority of\nthose most beautiful actions be diminished by your own conduct.\n\nAnd having said this he stopped. But Hortensius, admiring all he said very\ngreatly, (so much, indeed, that all the time that Lucullus was speaking he\nkept lifting up his hands; and it was no wonder, for I do not believe that\nan argument had ever been conducted against the Academy with more\nacuteness,) began to exhort me, either jestingly or seriously, (for that\nwas a point that I was not quite sure about,) to abandon my opinions.\nThen, said Catulus, if the discourse of Lucullus has had such influence\nover you,\u2014and it has been a wonderful exhibition of memory, accuracy, and\ningenuity,\u2014I have nothing to say; nor do I think it my duty to try and\ndeter you from changing opinion if you choose. But I should not think it\nwell for you to be influenced merely by his authority. For he was all but\nwarning you, said he, jestingly, to take care that no worthless tribune of\nthe people, of whom you know what a number there will always be, seize\nupon you, and ask of you in the public assembly how you are consistent\nwith yourself, when at one time you assert that nothing certain can be\ndiscovered, and at another time affirm that you yourself have discovered\nsomething. I entreat you, do not let him terrify you. But I would rather\nhave you disagree with him on the merits of the case itself. But if you\ngive in to him, I shall not be greatly surprised; for I recollect that\nAntiochus himself, after he had entertained such opinions for many years,\nabandoned them as soon as he thought it desirable. When Catulus had said\nthis, they all began to fix their eyes on me.\n\nXX. Then I, being no less agitated than I usually am when pleading\nimportant causes, began to speak something after this fashion:\u2014\n\nThe discourse of Lucullus, O Catulus, on the matter itself, moved me a\ngood deal, being the discourse of a learned and ingenious and quick-witted\nman, and of one who passes over nothing which can be said for his side;\nbut still I am not afraid but that I may be able to answer him. But no\ndoubt such authority as his would have influenced me a good deal, if you\nhad not opposed your own to it, which is of equal weight. I will\nendeavour, therefore, to reply to him after I have said a few words in\ndefence of my own reputation, as it were.\n\nIf it is by any desire of display, or any zeal for contentious disputes,\nthat I have been chiefly led to rank myself as an adherent of this school\nof philosophy, I should think not only my folly, but also my disposition\nand nature deserving of severe censure; for if obstinacy is found fault\nwith in the most trifling matters, and if also calumny is repressed,\nshould I choose to contend with others in a quarrelsome manner about the\ngeneral condition and conduct of my whole life, or to deceive others and\nalso my own self? Therefore, if I did not think it foolish in such a\ndiscussion to do what, when one is discussing affairs of state, is\nsometimes done, I would swear by Jupiter and my household gods, that I am\ninflamed with a desire of discovering the truth, and that I do truly feel\nwhat I say. For how can I avoid wishing to discover the truth, when I\nrejoice if I have discovered anything resembling the truth? But although I\nconsider to see the truth a most beautiful thing, so also do I think it a\nmost disgraceful one to approve of what is false as if it were true. Not,\nindeed, that I am myself a man who never approve of anything false, who\nnever give assent to any such thing, and am never guided by opinion; but\nwe are speaking of a wise man. But I myself am very apt to adopt opinions,\nfor I am not a wise man, and I direct my thoughts, steering not to that\nlittle Cynosura,\n\n\n    The nightly star, which shining not in vain,\n    Guides the Ph\u0153nician sailor o\u2019er the main,\n\n\nas Aratus says;\u2014and those mariners steer in a more direct course because\nthey keep looking at the constellation,\n\n\n    Which in its inner course and orbit brief\n    Surely revolves;\u2014\n\n\nbut looking rather towards Helice, and the bright north star, that is to\nsay, to these reasons of a more expansive kind, not polished away to a\npoint; and therefore I roam and wander about in a freer course. However,\nthe question, as I said just now, is not about myself, but about a wise\nman. For when these perceptions have made a violent impression on the\nintellect and senses, I admit them, and sometimes I even assent to them,\nbut still I do not perceive them: for I do not think that anything can be\nperceived. I am not a wise man, therefore I submit to perceptions and\ncannot resist them: but Arcesilas, being on this point in agreement with\nZeno, thinks that this is the most important part of the power of a wise\nman, that he can guard against being entangled, and provide against being\ndeceived. For there is nothing more incompatible with the idea which we\nhave of the gravity of a wise man than error, levity, and temerity. Why,\nthen, need I speak of the firmness of a wise man? whom even you too,\nLucullus, admit to be never guided by mere opinion. And since this is\nsanctioned by you, (if I am dealing irregularly with you at this moment, I\nwill soon return to the proper order of your arguments,) just consider\nwhat force this first conclusion has.\n\nXXI. If the wise man ever assents to anything, he will likewise sometimes\nform opinions: but he never will form opinions: therefore he will never\nassent to anything. This conclusion was approved of by Arcesilas, for it\nconfirmed both his first and second proposition. But Carneades sometimes\ngranted that minor premiss, that the wise man did at times assent: then it\nfollowed that he also was at times guided by opinion; which you will not\nallow; and you are right, as it seems to me: but the first proposition,\nthat the wise man, if he expresses assent, must also be guided by opinion,\nis denied by the Stoics and their follower on this point, Antiochus.\n\nFor they say that they can distinguish what is false from what is true,\nand what cannot be perceived from what can. But, in the first place, even\nif anything can be perceived, still the very custom of expressing assent\nappears to us to be perilous and unsure. Wherefore, as it is plain that is\nso faulty a proceeding, to assent to anything that is either false or\nunknown, all assent must rather be removed, lest it should rush on into\ndifficulties if it proceeds rashly. For what is false is so much akin to\nwhat is true, and the things which cannot be perceived to those which can,\n(if, indeed, there are any such, for we shall examine that point\npresently,) that a wise man ought not to trust himself in such a hazardous\nposition.\n\nBut if I assume that there is actually nothing which can be perceived, and\nif I also take what you grant me, that a wise man is never guided by\nopinion, then the consequence will be that the wise man will restrain all\nassent on his part; so that you must consider whether you would rather\nhave it so, or let the wise man sometimes form opinions. You do not\napprove of either, you will say. Let us, then, endeavour to prove that\nnothing can be perceived; for that is what the whole controversy turns\nupon.\n\nXXII. But first I must say a few words to Antiochus; who under Philo\nlearnt this very doctrine which I am now defending, for such a length of\ntime, that it is certain that no one was ever longer studying it; and who\nwrote on these subjects with the greatest acuteness, and who yet attacked\nit in his old age with no less energy than he had defended it in his\nyouth. Although therefore he may have been a shrewd arguer, as indeed he\nwas, still his authority is diminished by his inconsistency. For what day,\nI should like to know, will ever dawn, which shall reveal to him that\ndistinctive characteristic of what is true and what is false, of which for\nso many years he denied the existence? Has he devised anything new? He\nsays the same that the Stoics say. Does he repent of having held such an\nopinion? Why did he not cross over to some other school, and especially to\nthe Stoics? for this disagreement with the Academy was peculiarly theirs.\nWhat? did he repent of Mnesarchus or Dardanus, who at that time were the\nchiefs of the Stoics at Athens? He never deserted Philo till after the\ntime when he himself began to have pupils.\n\nBut from whence was the Old Academy on a sudden recalled? He appears to\nhave wished to preserve the dignity of the name, after he had given up the\nreality; which however some people said, that he did from a view to his\nown glory, and that he even hoped that those who followed him might be\ncalled Antiochians. But to me it seems, that he could not stand that\nconcourse of all the philosophers. In truth, there are among them all,\nsome common principles on the other points; but this doctrine is peculiar\nto the Academicians, and not one of the other philosophers approves of it.\nTherefore, he quitted it; and, like those men who, where the new shops\nstand, cannot bear the sun, so he, when he was hot, took refuge under the\nshade of the Old Academicians, as those men do under the shade of the old\nshops near the pillar of M\u00e6nius. There was also an argument which he was\nin the habit of employing, when he used to maintain that nothing could be\nperceived; namely, asking whether Dionysius of Heraclea had comprehended\nthe doctrine which he had espoused for many years, because he was guided\nby that certain characteristic, and whether he believed the doctrine of\nhis master Zeno, that whatever was honourable was the only good; or,\nwhether he adopted the assertion which he defended subsequently, that the\nname of honourableness is a mere phantom, and that pleasure is the chief\ngood: for from this change of opinion on his part he wished to prove, that\nnothing can be so stamped on our minds by the truth, that it cannot also\nbe impressed on them in the same manner by falsehood; and so he took care\nthat others should derive from his own conduct the same argument which he\nhimself had derived from Dionysius.\n\nXXIII. But we will argue this point more at length another time; at\npresent we will turn what has been said, Lucullus, to you. And in the\nfirst place, let us examine the assertion which you made at the beginning,\nand see what sort of assertion it is; namely, that we spoke of the ancient\nphilosophers in a manner similar to that in which seditious men were in\nthe habit of speaking of illustrious men, who were however friends of the\npeople. These men do not indeed pursue good objects, but still wish to be\nconsidered to resemble good men; but we say that we hold those opinions,\nwhich you yourselves confess to have been entertained by the most\nillustrious philosophers. Anaxagoras said, that snow was black: would you\nendure me if I were to say the same? You would not bear even for me to\nexpress a doubt on the subject. But who is this man? is he a Sophist? for\nby that name were those men called, who used to philosophize for the sake\nof display or of profit. The glory of the gravity and genius of that man\nwas great. Why should I speak of Democritus? Who is there whom we can\ncompare with him for the greatness, not merely of his genius, but also of\nhis spirit? a man who dared to begin thus: \u201cI am going to speak of\neverything.\u201d He excepts nothing, so as not to profess a knowledge of it.\nFor indeed, what could there possibly be beyond everything? Who can avoid\nplacing this philosopher before Cleanthes, or Chrysippus, or all the rest\nof his successors? men who, when compared with him, appear to me to be in\nthe fifth class.\n\nBut he does not say this, which we, who do not deny that there is some\ntruth, declare cannot be perceived: he absolutely denies that there is any\ntruth. He says that the senses are not merely dim, but utterly dark; for\nthat is what Metrodorus of Chios, who was one of his greatest admirers,\nsays of them, at the beginning of his book on Nature. \u201cI deny,\u201d says he,\n\u201cthat we know whether we know anything or whether we know nothing; I say\nthat we do not even know what is ignorance and knowledge; and that we have\nno knowledge whether anything exists or whether nothing does.\u201d\n\nEmpedocles appears to you to be mad; but to me he seems to utter words\nvery worthy of the subjects of which he speaks. Does he then blind us, or\ndeprive us of our senses, if he thinks that there is but little power in\nthem to judge of those things which are brought under their notice?\nParmenides and Xenophanes blame, as if they were angry with them, though\nin no very poetical verses, the arrogance of those people who, though\nnothing can be known, venture to say that they know something. And you\nsaid that Socrates and Plato were distinct from these men. Why so? Are\nthere any men of whom we can speak more certainly? I indeed seem to myself\nto have lived with these men; so many of their discourses have been\nreported, from which one cannot possibly doubt that Socrates thought that\nnothing could be known. He excepted one thing only, asserting that he did\nknow that he knew nothing; but he made no other exception. What shall I\nsay of Plato? who certainly would never have followed up these doctrines\nin so many books if he had not approved of them; for there was no object\nin going on with the irony of the other, especially when it was so\nunceasing.\n\nXXIV. Do I not seem to you, not, like Saturninus, to be content with\nnaming illustrious men, but also sometimes even to imitate them, though\nnever unless they are really eminent and noble? And I might have opposed\nto you men who are annoying to you, but yet disputants of great accuracy;\nStilpo, Diodorus, and Alexinus: men who indulged in far-fetched and\npointed sophisms; for that was the name given usually to fallacious\nconclusions. But why need I enumerate them, when I have Chrysippus, who is\nconsidered to be the great support of the portico of the Stoics? How many\nof the arguments against the senses, how many against everything which is\napproved by ordinary practice, did he not refute! It is true that I do not\nthink very much of his refutations; but still, let us grant that he did\nrefute them. Certainly he would never have collected so many arguments to\ndeceive us with their excessive probability, unless he saw that it was not\neasily possible to resist them.\n\nWhat do you think of the Cyrenaic School? philosophers far from\ncontemptible, who affirm that there is nothing which can be perceived\nexternally; and that they perceive those things alone which they feel by\ntheir inmost touch, such as pain, or pleasure. And that they do not know\nwhat colour anything is of, or what sound it utters; but only feel that\nthey themselves are affected in a certain manner.\n\nWe have said enough about authors: although you had asked me whether I did\nnot think that since the time of those ancient philosophers, in so many\nages, the truth might have been discovered, when so many men of genius and\ndiligence were looking for it? What was discovered we will consider\npresently, and you yourself shall be the judge. But it is easily seen that\nArcesilas did not contend with Zeno for the sake of disparaging him; but\nthat he wished to discover the truth. No one, I say, of preceding\nphilosophers had said positively, no one had even hinted that it was\npossible for man never to form opinions: and that for a wise man it was\nnot only possible, but indispensable. The opinion of Arcesilas appeared\nnot only true, but honourable and worthy of a wise man.\n\nPerhaps he asked of Zeno what would happen if a wise man could not\npossibly perceive anything, and if to form mere opinion was unworthy of a\nwise man? He answered, I suppose, that the wise man never would form mere\nopinion, since there were things which admitted of being perceived. What\nthen were they? Perceptions, I suppose. What sort of perceptions then? In\nreply to this he gave a definition, That it was such as is impressed and\nstamped upon and figured in us, according to and conformably to something\nwhich exists. Afterwards the question was asked, whether, if such a\nperception was true, it was of the same character as one that was false?\nHere Zeno saw clearly enough that there was no perception that could be\nperceived at all, if the perception derived from that which is, could\npossibly resemble that which is derived from that which is not.\n\nArcesilas was quite right in admitting this. An addition was made to the\ndefinition; namely, That nothing false could be perceived; nor anything\ntrue either, if it was of such a character as that which was false. But he\napplied himself diligently to these discussions, in order to prove that no\nperception originated in what was true of such a kind that there might not\nbe a similar one originating in what was false. And this is the one\nsubject of controversy which has lasted to this day. For the other\ndoctrine, that the wise man would never assent to anything, had nothing to\ndo with this question. For it was quite possible for a man to perceive\nnothing, and nevertheless to be guided at times by opinion; which is said\nto have been admitted by Carneades. I, indeed, trusting rather to\nClitomachus than to Philo or Metrodorus, believe that he argued this point\nrather than that he admitted it.\n\nXXV. However, let us say no more about this. Undoubtedly, when opinion and\nperception are put an end to, the retention of every kind of assent must\nfollow; as, if I prove that nothing can be perceived, you would then grant\nthat a philosopher would never assent to anything. What is there then that\ncan be perceived, if even the senses do not warn us of the truth? But you,\nO Lucullus, defend them by a common topic; and to prevent you from being\nable to do so it was, that I yesterday, when it was not otherwise\nnecessary, said so much against the senses. But you say that you are not\nat all moved by \u201cthe broken oar\u201d or \u201cthe dove\u2019s neck.\u201d In the first place,\nI will ask why?\u2014for in the case of the oar, I feel that that which appears\nto be the case, is not really so; and that in the dove\u2019s neck there appear\nto be many colours, but are not in reality more than one. Have we, then,\nsaid nothing more than this? Let all our arguments stand: that man is\ntearing his cause to pieces; he says that his senses are voracious.\nTherefore you have always one backer who will plead the cause at his own\nrisk: for Epicurus brings the matter down to this point, that if once in a\nman\u2019s life one of his senses has decided wrongly, none of them is ever to\nbe trusted. This is what he calls being true, and confiding in his own\nwitnesses, and urging his proofs to their just conclusion; therefore\nTimagoras the Epicurean declares, that when he had twisted his eye with\nhis hand, he had never seen two flames appear out of one candle: for that\nthe error was one of opinion, and not one of his eyes; just as if the\nquestion were what the fact is, and not what it appears to be. However, he\nis just like his predecessors. But as for you, who say that of the things\nperceived by your senses, some are true and some false, how do you\ndistinguish between them? Cease, I beg of you, to employ common topics: we\nhave plenty of them at home.\n\nIf any god were to ask you, while your senses are sound and unimpaired,\nwhether you desire anything further, what would you answer? I wish,\nindeed, he would ask me! You should hear how ill he treats us: for how far\nare we to look in order to see the truth? I can see the Cum\u00e6an villa of\nCatulus from this place, but not his villa near Pompeii; not that there is\nany obstacle interposed, but my eyesight cannot extend so far. What a\nsuperb view! We see Puteoli, but we do not see our friend Avianus, though\nhe may perhaps be walking in the portico of Neptune; there was, however,\nsome one or other who is often spoken of in the Schools who could see\nthings that were a thousand and eighty furlongs off; and some birds can\nsee further still. I should therefore answer your god boldly, that I am\nnot at all contented with these eyes of mine. He will tell me, perhaps,\nthat I can see better than some fishes; which are not seen by us, and\nwhich even now are beneath our eyes, and yet they cannot look up far\nenough to see us: therefore, as water is shed around them, so a dense air\nis around us. But we desire nothing better. What? do you suppose that a\nmole longs for light?\u2014nor would he complain to the god that he could not\nsee far, but rather that he saw incorrectly. Do you see that ship? It\nappears to us to be standing still; but to those who are in that ship,\nthis villa appears to be moving. Seek for the reason why it seems so, and\nif you discover it ever so much, and I do not know whether you may not be\nable to, still you will have proved, not that you have a trustworthy\nwitness, but that he has not given false evidence without sufficient\nreason.\n\nXXVI. What need had I to speak of the ship? for I saw that what I said\nabout the oar was despised by you; perhaps you expect something more\nserious. What can be greater than the sun, which the mathematicians affirm\nto be more than eighteen times as large as the earth? How little does it\nappear to us! To me, indeed, it seems about a foot in diameter; but\nEpicurus thinks it possible that it may be even less than it seems, but\nnot much; nor does he think that it is much greater, but that it is very\nnear the size it seems to be: so that our eyes are either quite correct,\nor, at all events, not very incorrect. What becomes then of the exception,\n\u201cIf once...?\u201d However, let us leave this credulous man, who does not\nbelieve that the senses are ever wrong,\u2014not even now, when that sun, which\nis borne along with such rapidity that it is impossible even to conceive\nhow great its velocity is, nevertheless seems to us to be standing still.\n\nHowever, to abridge the controversy, consider, I pray you, within what\nnarrow bounds you are confined. There are four principles which conduct\nyou to the conclusion that there is nothing which can be known, or\nperceived, or comprehended;\u2014and it is about this that the whole dispute\nis. The first principle is, that some perceptions are false; the second,\nthat such cannot be perceived; the third, that of perceptions between\nwhich there is no difference, it is not possible that some of them can be\nperceived and that others cannot; the fourth, that there is no true\nperception proceeding from the senses, to which there is not some other\nperception opposed which in no respect differs from it, and which cannot\nbe perceived. Now of these four principles, the second and third are\nadmitted by every one. Epicurus does not admit the first, but you, with\nwhom we are now arguing, admit that one too,\u2014the whole contest is about\nthe fourth.\n\nThe man, then, who saw Publius Servilius Geminus, if he thought that he\nsaw Quintus, fell into a perception of that kind that could not be\nperceived; because what was true was distinguished by no characteristic\nmark from what was false: and if this distinctive mark were taken away,\nwhat characteristic of the same kind could he have by which to recognise\nCaius Cotta, who was twice consul with Geminus, which could not possibly\nbe false? You say that such a likeness as that is not in the nature of\nthings. You fight the question vigorously, but you are fighting a\npeaceably disposed adversary. Grant, then, that it is not; at all events,\nit is possible that it should seem to be so; therefore it will deceive the\nsenses. And if one likeness deceives them, it will have made everything\ndoubtful; for when that judgment is once taken away by which alone things\ncan be known, then, even if the person whom you see, be really the person\nwhom he appears to you to be, still you will not judge by that\ncharacteristic which you say you ought, being of such a character that one\nof the same kind cannot be false. If, therefore, it is possible that\nPublius Geminus may appear to you to be Quintus, what certainty have you\nthat he may not appear to you to be Cotta though he is not, since some\nthings do appear to you to be what they are not? You say that everything\nhas its own peculiar genus; that there is nothing the same as something\nelse. That is a stoic doctrine, and one not very credible, for they say\nthat there is not a single hair or a single grain in every respect like\nanother hair or grain. These things could all be refuted, but I do not\nwish to be contentious; for it has nothing in the world to do with the\nquestion whether the things which are seen do not differ at all in any\npart, or whether they cannot be distinguished from another even though\nthey do differ. But, granting that there cannot be such a likeness between\nmen, can there not be such between statues? Tell me, could not Lysippus,\nusing the same brass, the same composition of metals, the same atmosphere,\nwater, and all other appliances, have made a hundred Alexanders exactly\nalike? How then could you distinguish between them? Again; if I, with this\nring, make a hundred impressions on the same piece of wax, is it possible\nthat there should be any difference to enable you to distinguish one from\nthe other?\u2014or, shall you have to seek out some ring engraver, since you\nhave already found us a Delian poulterer who could recognise his eggs?\n\nXXVII. But you have recourse to art, which you call in to the aid of the\nsenses. A painter sees what we do not see; and as soon as a flute-player\nplays a note the air is recognised by a musician. Well? Does not this\nargument seem to tell against you, if, without great skill, such as very\nfew persons of our class attain to, we can neither see nor hear? Then you\ngive an excellent description of the skill with which nature has\nmanufactured our senses, and intellect, and the whole construction of man,\nin order to prevent my being alarmed at rashness of opinions. Can you\nalso, Lucullus, affirm that there is any power united with wisdom and\nprudence which has made, or, to use your own expression, manufactured man?\nWhat sort of a manufacture is that? Where is it exercised? when? why? how?\nThese points are all handled ingeniously, they are discussed even\nelegantly. Let it be said even that they appear likely; only let them not\nbe affirmed positively. But we will discuss natural philosophy hereafter,\nand, indeed, we will do so that you, who said a little while ago that I\nshould speak of it, may appear not to have spoken falsely.\n\nHowever, to come to what is clearer, I shall now bring forward general\nfacts on which whole volumes have been filled, not only by those of our\nown School, but also by Chrysippus. But the Stoics complain of him, that,\nwhile he studiously collected every argument which could be brought\nforward against the senses and clearness, and against all custom, and\nagainst reason, when he came to reply to himself, he was inferior to what\nhe had been at first; and therefore that, in fact, he put arms into the\nhands of Carneades. Those arguments are such as have been ingeniously\nhandled by you. You said that the perceptions of men asleep, or drunk, or\nmad, were less vigorous than those of men awake, sober, and sane. How do\nyou prove that? because, when Ennius had awakened, he would not say that\nhe had seen Homer, but only that Homer had seemed to be present. And\nAlcm\u00e6on says\u2014\n\n\n    My heart distrusts the witness of my eyes.\n\n\nAnd one may say the same of men who are drunk. As if any one denied that\nwhen a man has awakened he ceases to think his dreams true; and that a man\nwhose frenzy has passed away, no longer conceives those things to be real\nwhich appeared so to him during his madness. But that is not the question:\nthe question is, how those things appear to us, at the time when they do\nappear. Unless, indeed, we suppose that Ennius heard the whole of that\naddress\u2014\n\n\n    O piety of the soul....\n\n\n(if, indeed, he did dream it), just as he would have heard it if he had\nbeen awake. For when awake, he was able to think those things phantoms\u2014as,\nin fact, they were\u2014and dreams. But while he was asleep, he felt as sure of\ntheir reality as if he had been awake. Again, Iliona, in that dream of\nhers, where she hears\u2014\n\n\n    Mother, I call on you....\n\n\ndoes she not believe that her son has spoken, just as she would have\nbelieved it if she had been awake? On which account she adds\u2014\n\n\n    Come now, stand here, remain, and hear my words,\n    And once again repeat those words to me.\n\n\nDoes she here seem to place less trust in what she has seen than people do\nwhen awake?\n\nXXVIII. Why should I speak of madmen?\u2014such as your relation Tuditanus was,\nCatulus. Does any man, who may be ever so much in his senses, think the\nthings which he sees as certain as he used to think those that appeared to\nhim? Again, the man who cries out\u2014\n\n\n    I see you now, I see you now alive,\n    Ulysses, while such sight is still allow\u2019d me;\n\n\ndoes he not twice cry out that he is seeing what he never sees at all?\nAgain, when Hercules, in Euripides, shot his own sons with his arrows,\ntaking them for the sons of Eurystheus,\u2014when he slew his wife,\u2014when he\nendeavoured even to slay his father,\u2014was he not worked upon by false\nideas, just as he might have been by true ones? Again, does not your own\nAlcm\u00e6on, who says that his heart distrusts the witness of his eyes, say in\nthe same place, while inflamed by frenzy\u2014\n\n\n    Whence does this flame arise?\n\n\nAnd presently afterwards\u2014\n\n\n    Come on; come on; they hasten, they approach;\n    They seek for me.\n\n\nListen, how he implores the good faith of the virgin:\u2014\n\n\n    O bring me aid; O drive this pest away;\n    This fiery power which now doth torture me;\n    See, they advance, dark shades, with flames encircled,\n    And stand around me with their blazing torches.\n\n\nHave you any doubt here that he appears to himself to see these things?\nAnd then the rest of his speech:\u2014\n\n\n    See how Apollo, fair-hair\u2019d God,\n    Draws in and bends his golden bow;\n    While on the left fair Dian waves her torch.\n\n\nHow could he have believed these things any more if they had really\nexisted than he did when they only seemed to exist? For it is clear that\nat the moment his heart was not distrusting his eyes. But all these\ninstances are cited in order to prove that than which nothing can be more\ncertain, namely, that between true and false perceptions there is no\ndifference at all, as far as the assent of the mind is concerned. But you\nprove nothing when you merely refute those false perceptions of men who\nare mad or dreaming, by their own recollection. For the question is not\nwhat sort of recollection those people usually have who have awakened, or\nthose who have recovered from madness, but what sort of perception madmen\nor dreamers had at the moment when they were under the influence of their\nmadness or their dream. However, we will say no more about the senses.\n\nWhat is there that can be perceived by reason? You say that Dialectics\nhave been discovered, and that that science is, as it were, an arbiter and\njudge of what is true and false. Of what true and false?\u2014and of true and\nfalse on what subject? Will a dialectician be able to judge, in geometry,\nwhat is true and false, or in literature, or in music? He knows nothing\nabout those things. In philosophy, then? What is it to him how large the\nsun is? or what means has he which may enable him to judge what the chief\ngood is? What then will he judge of? Of what combination or disjunction of\nideas is accurate,\u2014of what is an ambiguous expression,\u2014of what follows\nfrom each fact, or what is inconsistent with it? If the science of\ndialectics judges of these things, or things like them, it is judging of\nitself. But it professed more. For to judge of these matters is not\nsufficient for the resolving of the other numerous and important questions\nwhich arise in philosophy. But, since you place so much importance in that\nart, I would have you to consider whether it was not invented for the\nexpress purpose of being used against you. For, at its first opening, it\ngives an ingenious account of the elements of speaking, and of the manner\nin which one may come to an understanding of ambiguous expressions, and of\nthe principles of reasoning: then, after a few more things, it comes to\nthe sorites, a very slippery and hazardous topic, and a class of argument\nwhich you yourself pronounced to be a vicious one.\n\nXXIX. What then, you will say; are we to be blamed for that viciousness?\nThe nature of things has not given us any knowledge of ends, so as to\nenable us, in any subject whatever, to say how far we can go. Nor is this\nthe case only in respect of the heap of wheat, from which the name is\nderived, but in no matter whatever where the argument is conducted by\nminute questions: for instance, if the question be whether a man is rich\nor poor, illustrious or obscure,\u2014whether things be many or few, great or\nsmall, long or short, broad or narrow,\u2014we have no certain answer to give,\nhow much must be added or taken away to make the thing in question either\none or the other.\n\nBut the sorites is a vicious sort of argument:\u2014crush it, then, if you can,\nto prevent its being troublesome; for it will be so, if you do not guard\nagainst it. We have guarded against it, says he. For Chrysippus\u2019s plan is,\nwhen he is interrogated step by step (by way of giving an instance),\nwhether there are three, or few, or many, to rest a little before he comes\nto the \u201cmany;\u201d that is to say, to use their own language, \u1f21\u03c3\u03c5\u03c7\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd. Rest\nand welcome, says Carneades; you may even snore, for all I care. But what\ngood does he do? For one follows who will waken you from sleep, and\nquestion you in the same manner:\u2014Take the number, after the mention of\nwhich you were silent, and if to that number I add one, will there be\nmany? You will again go on, as long as you think fit. Why need I say more?\nfor you admit this, that you cannot in your answers fix the last number\nwhich can be classed as \u201cfew,\u201d nor the first, which amounts to \u201cmany.\u201d And\nthis kind of uncertainty extends so widely, that I do not see any bounds\nto its progress.\n\nNothing hurts me, says he; for I, like a skilful driver, will rein in my\nhorses before I come to the end, and all the more if the ground which the\nhorses are approaching is precipitous. And thus, too, says he, I will\ncheck myself, and not reply any more to one who addresses me with captious\nquestions. If you have a clear answer to make, and refuse to make it, you\nare giving yourself airs; if you have not, even you yourself do not\nperceive it. If you stop, because the question is obscure, I admit that it\nis so; but you say that you do not proceed as far as what is obscure. You\nstop, then, where the case is still clear. If then all you do is to hold\nyour tongue, you gain nothing by that. For what does it matter to the man\nwho wishes to catch you, whether he entangles you owing to your silence or\nto your talking? Suppose, for instance, you were to say, without\nhesitation, that up to the number nine, is \u201cfew,\u201d but were to pause at the\ntenth; then you would be refusing your assent to what is certain and\nevident, and yet you will not allow me to do the same with respect to\nsubjects which are obscure.\n\nThat art, therefore, does not help you against the sorites; inasmuch as it\ndoes not teach a man, who is using either the increasing or diminishing\nscale, what is the first point, or the last. May I not say that that same\nart, like Penelope undoing her web, at last undoes all the arguments which\nhave gone before? Is that your fault, or ours? In truth, it is the\nfoundation of dialectics, that whatever is enunciated (and that is what\nthey call \u1f00\u03be\u03af\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1, which answers to our word _effatum_,) is either true or\nfalse. What, then, is the case? Are these true or false? If you say that\nyou are speaking falsely, and that that is true, you are speaking falsely\nand telling the truth at the same time. This, forsooth, you say is\ninexplicable; and that is more odious than our language, when we call\nthings uncomprehended, and not perceived.\n\nXXX. However, I will pass over all this. I ask, if those things cannot be\nexplained, and if no means of judging of them is discovered, so that you\ncan answer whether they are true or false, then what has become of that\ndefinition,\u2014\u201cThat a proposition (_effatum_) is something which is either\ntrue or false?\u201d After the facts are assumed I will add, that of them some\nare to be adopted, others impeached, because they are contrary to the\nfirst. What then do you think of this conclusion,\u2014\u201cIf you say that the sun\nshines, and if you speak truth, therefore the sun does shine?\u201d At all\nevents you approve of the kind of argument, and you say that the\nconclusion has been most correctly inferred. Therefore, in teaching, you\ndeliver that as the first mood in which to draw conclusions. Either,\ntherefore, you will approve of every other conclusion in the same mood, or\nthat art of yours is good for nothing. Consider, then, whether you are\ninclined to approve of this conclusion;\u2014\u201cIf you say that you are a liar,\nand speak the truth, then you are a liar. But you do say that you are a\nliar, and you do speak the truth, therefore you are a liar.\u201d How can you\navoid approving of this conclusion, when you approved of the previous one\nof the same kind?\n\nThese are the arguments of Chrysippus, which even he himself did not\nrefute. For what could he do with such a conclusion as this,\u2014\u201cIf it\nshines, it shines: but it does shine, therefore it does shine?\u201d He must\ngive in; for the principle of the connexion compels you to grant the last\nproposition after you have once granted the first. And in what does this\nconclusion differ from the other,\u2014\u201cIf you lie, you lie; but you do lie,\ntherefore you do lie?\u201d You assert that it is impossible for you either to\napprove or disapprove of this: if so, how can you any more approve or\ndisapprove of the other? If the art, or the principle, or the method, or\nthe force of the one conclusion avails, they exist in exactly the same\ndegree in both.\n\nThis, however, is their last resource. They demand that one should make an\nexception with regard to these points which are inexplicable. I give my\nvote for their going to some tribune of the people; for they shall never\nobtain this exception from me. In truth, when they cannot prevail on\nEpicurus, who despises and ridicules the whole science of dialectics, to\ngrant this proposition to be true, which we may express thus\u2014\u201cHermachus\nwill either be alive to-morrow or he will not;\u201d when the dialecticians lay\nit down that every disjunctive proposition, such as \u201ceither yes or no\u201d is\nnot only true but necessary; you may see how cautious he is, whom they\nthink slow. For, says he, if I should grant that one of the two\nalternatives is necessary, it will then be necessary either that Hermachus\nshould be alive to-morrow, or not. But there is no such necessity in the\nnature of things. Let the dialecticians then, that is to say, Antiochus\nand the Stoics, contend with him, for he upsets the whole science of\ndialectics.\n\nFor if a disjunctive proposition made up of contraries, (I call those\npropositions contraries when one affirms and the other denies,) if, I say,\nsuch a disjunctive can be false, then no one is ever true. But what\nquarrel have they with me who am following their system? When anything of\nthat kind happened, Carneades used to joke in this way:\u2014\u201cIf I have drawn\nmy conclusion correctly, I gain the cause: if incorrectly, Diogenes shall\npay back a mina;\u201d for he had learnt dialectics of that Stoic, and a mina\nwas the pay of the dialecticians.\n\nI, therefore, follow that system which I learnt from Antiochus; and I find\nno reason why I should judge \u201cIf it does shine, it does shine\u201d to be true,\nbecause I have learnt that everything which is connected with itself is\ntrue; and yet not judge \u201cIf you lie, you lie,\u201d to be connected with itself\nin the same manner. Either, therefore, I must judge both this and that to\nbe true, or, if I may not judge this to be true, then I cannot judge that\nto be.\n\nXXXI. However, to pass over all those prickles, and all that tortuous kind\nof discussion, and to show what we are:\u2014after having explained the whole\ntheory of Carneades, all the quibbles of Antiochus will necessarily fall\nto pieces. Nor will I say anything in such a way as to lead any one to\nsuspect that anything is invented by me. I will take what I say from\nClitomachus, who was with Carneades till his old age, a man of great\nshrewdness, (indeed, he was a Carthaginian,) and very studious and\ndiligent. And he has written four books on the subject of withholding\nassent; but what I am going to say is taken out of the first.\n\nCarneades asserts that there are two kinds of appearances; and that the\nfirst kind may be divided into those which can be perceived and those\nwhich cannot; and the other into those which are probable and those which\nare not. Therefore, those which are pronounced to be contrary to the\nsenses and contrary to evidentness belong to the former division; but that\nnothing can be objected to those of the second kind. Wherefore his opinion\nis, that there is no appearance of such a character that perception will\nfollow it, but many such as to draw after them probability. Indeed, it\nwould be contrary to nature if nothing were probable; and that entire\noverturning of life, which you were speaking of, Lucullus, would ensue.\nTherefore there are many things which may be proved by the senses; only\none must recollect that there is not in them anything of such a character\nthat there may not also be something which is false, but which in no\nrespect differs from it in appearance; and so, whatever happens which is\nprobable in appearance, if nothing offers itself which is contrary to that\nprobability, the wise man will use it; and in this way the whole course of\nlife will be regulated.\n\nAnd, in truth, that wise man whom you are bringing on the stage, is often\nguided by what is probable, not being comprehended, nor perceived, nor\nassented to, but only likely; and unless a man acts on such circumstances\nthere is an end to the whole system of life. For what must happen? Has the\nwise man, when he embarks on board ship, a positive comprehension and\nperception in his mind that he will have a successful voyage? How can he?\nBut suppose he goes from this place to Puteoli, thirty furlongs, in a\nseaworthy vessel, with a good pilot, and in fine weather like this, it\nappears probable that he will arrive there safe. According to appearances\nof this kind, then, he will make up his mind to act or not to act; and he\nwill be more willing to find the snow white than Anaxagoras, who not only\ndenied that fact, but who affirmed, because he knew that water, from which\nsnow was congealed, was of a dark colour, that snow did not even look\nwhite. And he will be influenced by anything which affects him in such a\nway that the appearance is probable, and not interfered with by any\nobstacle. For such a man is not cut out of stone or hewn out of oak. He\nhas a body, he has a mind, he is influenced by intellect, he is influenced\nby his senses, so that many things appear to him to be true, and yet not\nto have conspicuous and peculiar characteristics by which to be perceived.\nAnd therefore the wise man does not assent to them, because it is possible\nthat something false may exist of the same kind as this true thing. Nor do\nwe speak against the senses differently from the Stoics, who say that many\nthings are false, and are very different from the appearance which they\npresent to the senses.\n\nXXXII. But if this is the case, that one false idea can be entertained by\nthe senses, you will find some one in a moment who will deny that anything\ncan be perceived by the senses. And so, while we are silent, all\nperception and comprehension is done away with by the two principles laid\ndown, one by Epicurus and the other by you. What is Epicurus\u2019s maxim?\u2014If\nanything that appears to the senses be false, then nothing can be\nperceived. What is yours?\u2014The appearances presented to the senses are\nfalse.\u2014What is the conclusion? Even if I hold my tongue, it speaks for\nitself, that nothing can be perceived. I do not grant that, says he, to\nEpicurus. Argue then with him, as he is wholly at variance with you, but\nleave me alone, who certainly agree with you so far, that the senses are\nliable to error. Although nothing appears so strange to me, as that such\nthings should be said, especially by Antiochus, to whom the propositions\nwhich I have just mentioned were thoroughly known. For although, if he\npleases, any one may find fault with this, namely with our denying that\nanything can be perceived; at all events it is not a very serious reproof\nthat we can have to endure. But as for our statement that some things are\nprobable, this does not seem to you to be sufficient. Grant that it is\nnot. At least we ought to escape the reproaches which are incessantly\nbandied about by you, \u201cCan you, then, see nothing? can you hear nothing?\nis nothing evident to you?\u201d\n\nI explained just now, on the testimony of Clitomachus, in what manner\nCarneades intended those statements to be taken. Hear now, how the same\nthings are stated by Clitomachus in that book which he dedicated to Caius\nLucilius, the poet, after he had written on the same subject to Lucius\nCensorinus, the one, I mean, who was consul with Marcus Manilius; he then\nused almost these very words; for I am well acquainted with them, because\nthe first idea and arrangement of those very matters which we are now\ndiscussing is contained in that book. He then uses the following language\u2014\n\n\u201cThe philosophers of the Academy are of opinion that there are differences\nbetween things of such a kind that some appear probable, and others the\ncontrary. But that it is not a sufficient reason for one\u2019s saying that\nsome of these can be perceived and that others cannot, because many things\nwhich are false are probable; but nothing false can be perceived and\nknown. Therefore, says he, those men are egregiously wrong who say that\nthe Academics deny the existence of the senses; for they have never said\nthat there is no such thing as colour, or taste, or sound; the only point\nthey argue for is, that there is not in them that peculiar characteristic\nmark of truth and certainty which does not exist anywhere else.\u201d\n\nAnd after having explained this, he adds, that there are two senses in\nwhich the wise man may be said to suspend his assent: one, when it is\nunderstood that he, as a general rule, assents to nothing; the other, when\nhe forbears answering, so as to say that he approves or disapproves of\nanything, or, so as to deny or affirm anything. This being the case, he\napproves of the one sense, so as never to assent to anything; and adheres\nto the other, so as to be able to answer yes, or no, following probability\nwhenever it either occurs or is wanting. And that one may not be\nastonished at one, who in every matter withholds himself from expressing\nhis assent, being nevertheless agitated and excited to action, he leaves\nus perceptions of the sort by which we are excited to action, and those\nowing to which we can, when questioned, answer either way, being guided\nonly by appearances, as long as we avoid expressing a deliberate assent.\nAnd yet we must look upon all appearances of that kind as probable, but\nonly those which have no obstacles to counteract them. If we do not induce\nyou to approve of these ideas, they may perhaps be false, but they\ncertainly do not deserve odium. For we are not depriving you of any light;\nbut with reference to the things which you assert are perceived and\ncomprehended, we say, that if they be only probable, they appear to be\ntrue.\n\nXXXIII. Since, therefore, what is probable, is thus inferred and laid\ndown, and at the same time disencumbered of all difficulties, set free and\nunrestrained, and disentangled from all extraneous circumstances; you see,\nLucullus, that that defence of perspicuity which you took in hand is\nutterly overthrown. For this wise man of whom I am speaking will survey\nthe heaven and earth and sea with the same eyes as your wise man; and will\nfeel with the same senses all those other things which fall under each\nrespective sense. That sea, which now, as the west wind is rising over it,\nappears purple to us, will appear so too to our wise man, but nevertheless\nhe will not sanction the appearance by his assent; because, to us\nourselves it appeared just now blue, and in the morning it appeared\nyellow; and now, too, because it sparkles in the sun, it is white and\ndimpled, and quite unlike the adjacent continent; so that, even if you\ncould give an account why it is so, still you could not establish the\ntruth of the appearance that is presented to the eyes.\n\nWhence then,\u2014for this was the question which you asked,\u2014comes memory, if\nwe perceive nothing, since we cannot recollect anything which we have seen\nunless we have comprehended it? What? Did Poly\u00e6nus, who is said to have\nbeen a great mathematician, after he had been persuaded by Epicurus to\nbelieve all geometry to be false, forget all the knowledge which he had\npreviously possessed? But that which is false cannot be comprehended as\nyou yourselves assert. If, therefore, memory is conversant only with\nthings which have been perceived and comprehended, then it retains as\ncomprehended and perceived all that every one remembers. But nothing false\ncan be comprehended; and Scyron recollects all the dogmas of Epicurus;\ntherefore they are all true. For all I care, they may be; but you also\nmust either admit that they are so, and that is the last thing in your\nthoughts, or else you must allow me memory, and grant that there is plenty\nof room for it, even if there be no comprehension or perception.\n\nWhat then is to become of the arts? Of what arts? of those, which of their\nown accord confess that they proceed on conjecture more than on knowledge;\nor of those which only follow what appears to them, and are destitute of\nthat art which you possess to enable them to distinguish between truth and\nfalsehood?\n\nBut there are two lights which, more than any others, contain the whole\ncase; for, in the first place, you deny the possibility of any man\ninvariably withholding his assent from everything. But that is quite\nplain; since Pan\u00e6tius, almost the greatest man, in my opinion, of all the\nStoics, says that he is in doubt as to that matter, which all the Stoics\nexcept him think absolutely certain, namely as to the truth of the\nauspices taken by soothsayers, and of oracles, and dreams, and prophecies;\nand forbears to express any assent respecting them. And why, if he may\npursue this course concerning those matters, which the men of whom he\nhimself learnt considered unquestionable, why may not a wise man do so too\nin all other cases? Is there any position which a man may either approve\nor disapprove of after it has been asserted, but yet may not doubt about?\nMay you do so with respect to the sorites whenever you please, and may not\nhe take his stand in the same manner in other cases, especially when\nwithout expressing his assent he may be able to follow a probability which\nis not embarrassed by anything?\n\nThe second point is that you declare that man incapable of action who\nwithholds his assent from everything. For first of all we must see in what\nassent consists. For the Stoics say that the senses themselves are\nassents; that desire comes after them, and action after desire. But that\nevery thing is at an end if we deny perception.\n\nXXXIV. Now on this subject many things have been said and written on both\nsides, but the whole matter may be summed up in a few words. For although\nI think it a very great exploit to resist one\u2019s perceptions, to withstand\none\u2019s vague opinions, to check one\u2019s propensity to give assent to\npropositions,\u2014and though I quite agree with Clitomachus, when he writes\nthat Carneades achieved a Herculean labour when, as if it had been a\nsavage and formidable monster, he extracted assent, that is to say, vague\nopinion and rashness, from our minds,\u2014yet, supposing that part of the\ndefence is wholly omitted, what will hinder the action of that man who\nfollows probability, without any obstacle arising to embarrass him? This\nthing of itself, says he, will embarrass him,\u2014that he will lay it down,\nthat even the thing he approves of cannot be perceived. And that will\nhinder you, also, in sailing, in planting, in marrying a wife, in becoming\nthe parent of children, and in many things in which you follow nothing\nexcept what is probable.\n\nAnd, nevertheless, you bring up again that old and often repudiated\nobjection, to employ it not as Antipater did, but, as you say, in a closer\nmanner. For you tell us that Antipater was blamed for saying, that it was\nconsistent in a man who affirmed that nothing could be comprehended, to\nsay that at least this fact of that impossibility could be comprehended;\nwhich appeared even to Antiochus to be a stupid kind of assertion, and\ncontradictory to itself. For that it cannot be said with any consistency\nthat nothing can be comprehended, if it is asserted at the same time that\nthe fact of the impossibility can be comprehended. He thinks that\nCarneades ought rather to be pressed in this way:\u2014As the wise man admits\nof no dogma except such as is comprehended, perceived, and known, he must\ntherefore confess that this very dogma of the wise man, \u201cthat nothing can\nbe perceived,\u201d is perceived; as if the wise man had no other maxim\nwhatever, and as if he could pass his life without any. But as he has\nothers, which are probable, but not positively perceived, so also has he\nthis one, that nothing can be perceived. For if he had on this point any\ncharacteristic of certain knowledge, he would also have it on all other\npoints; but since he has it not, he employs probabilities. Therefore he is\nnot afraid of appearing to be throwing everything into confusion, and\nmaking it uncertain. For it is not admissible for a person to say that he\nis ignorant about duty, and about many other things with which he is\nconstantly mixed up and conversant; as he might say, if he were asked\nwhether the number of the stars is odd or even. For in things uncertain,\nnothing is probable; but as to those matters in which there is\nprobability, in those the wise man will not be at a loss what to do, or\nwhat answer to give.\n\nNor have you, O Lucullus, omitted that other objection of Antiochus (and,\nindeed, it is no wonder, for it is a very notorious one,) by which he used\nto say that Philo was above all things perplexed. For when one proposition\nwas assumed, that some appearances were false, and a second one that there\nwas no difference between them and true ones, he said that that school\nomitted to take notice that the former proposition had been granted by\nhim, because there did appear to be some difference between appearances;\nbut that that was put an end to by the second proposition, which asserted\nthat there was no difference between false and true ones; for that no two\nassertions could be more contradictory. And this objection would be\ncorrect if we altogether put truth out of the question: but we do not; for\nwe see both true appearances and false ones. But there is a show of\nprobability in them, though of perception we have no sign whatever.\n\nXXXV. And I seem to myself to be at this moment adopting too meagre an\nargument; for, when there is a wide plain, in which our discourse may rove\nat liberty, why should we confine it within such narrow straits, and drive\nit into the thickets of the Stoics? For if I were arguing with a\nPeripatetic, who said \u201cthat everything could be perceived which was an\nimpression originating in the truth,\u201d and who did not employ that\nadditional clause,\u2014\u201cin such a way as it could not originate in what was\nfalse,\u201d I should then deal plainly with a plain man, and should not be\nvery disputatious. And even if, when I said that nothing could be\ncomprehended, he was to say that a wise man was sometimes guided by\nopinion, I should not contradict him; especially as even Carneades is not\nvery hostile to this idea. As it is, what can I do? For I am asking what\nthere is that can be comprehended; and I am answered, not by Aristotle, or\nTheophrastus, or even Xenocrates or Polemo, but by one who is of much\nlater date than they,\u2014\u201cA truth of such a nature as what is false cannot\nbe.\u201d I find nothing of the sort. Therefore I will, in truth, assent to\nwhat is unknown;\u2014that is to say, I will be guided by opinion. This I am\nallowed to do both by the Peripatetics and by the Old Academy; but you\nrefuse me such indulgence, and in this refusal Antiochus is the foremost,\nwho has great weight with me, either because I loved the man, as he did\nme, or because I consider him the most refined and acute of all the\nphilosophers of our age.\n\nAnd, first of all, I will ask him how it is that he is a follower of that\nAcademy to which he professes to belong? For, to pass over other points,\nwho is there, either of the Old Academy or of the Peripatetics, who has\never made these two assertions which are the subject of discussion,\u2014either\nthat that alone could be perceived which was a truth of such a nature, as\nwhat was false could not be; or that a wise man was never guided by\nopinion? Certainly no one of them ever said so. Neither of these\npropositions was much maintained before Zeno\u2019s time. But I consider both\nof them true; and I do not say so just to serve the present turn, but it\nis my honest opinion.\n\nXXXVI. This is what I cannot bear. When you forbid me to assent to what I\ndo not know, and say such a proceeding is most discreditable, and full of\nrashness,\u2014when you, at the same time, arrogate so much to yourself, as to\ntake upon yourself to explain the whole system of wisdom, to unfold the\nnature of all things, to form men\u2019s manners, to fix the limits of good and\nevil, to describe men\u2019s duties, and also to undertake to teach a complete\nrule and system of disputing and understanding, will you be able to\nprevent me from never tripping while embracing all those multitudinous\nbranches of knowledge? What, in short, is that school to which you would\nconduct me, after you have carried me away from this one? I fear you will\nbe acting rather arrogantly if you say it is your own. Still you must\ninevitably say so. Nor, indeed, are you the only person who would say such\na thing, but every one will try and tempt me to his own. Come; suppose I\nresist the Peripatetics, who say that they are closely connected with the\norators, and that illustrious men who have been instructed by them have\noften governed the republic;\u2014suppose that I withstand the Epicureans, so\nmany of whom are friends of my own,\u2014excellent, united, and affectionate\nmen;\u2014what am I to do with respect to Deodotus the Stoic, of whom I have\nbeen a pupil from my youth,\u2014who has been living with me so many years,\u2014who\ndwells in my house,\u2014whom I admire and love, and who despises all those\ntheories of Antiochus? Our principles, you will say, are the only true\nones. Certainly the only true ones, if they are true at all; for there\ncannot be many true principles incompatible with one another. Are we then\nshameless who are unwilling to make mistakes; or they arrogant who have\npersuaded themselves that they are the only people who know everything? I\ndo not, says he, assert that I, but that the wise man knows everything.\nExactly so; that he knows those things which are the principles of your\nschool. Now, in the first place, what an assertion it is that wisdom\ncannot be explained by a wise man.\u2014But let us leave off speaking of\nourselves; let us speak of the wise man, about whom, as I have often said\nbefore, the whole of this discussion is.\n\nWisdom, then, is distributed by most people, and indeed by us, into three\nparts. First therefore, if you please, let us consider the researches that\nhave been made into the nature of things. Is there any one so puffed up\nwith a false opinion of himself as to have persuaded himself that he knows\nthose things? I am not asking about those reasons which depend on\nconjecture, which are dragged every way by discussions, and which do not\nadmit any necessity of persuasion. Let the geometricians look to that, who\nprofess not to persuade men to believe them, but to compel them to do so;\nand who prove to you everything that they describe. I am not asking these\nmen for those principles of the mathematicians, which, if they be not\ngranted, they cannot advance a single step; such as that a point is a\nthing which has no magnitude,\u2014that an extremity or levelness, as it were,\nis a space which has no thickness,\u2014that a line is length without breadth.\nThough I should grant that all these axioms are true, if I were to add an\noath, do you think a wise man would swear that the sun is many degrees\ngreater than the earth, before Archimedes had, before his eyes, made out\nall those calculations by which it is proved? If he does, then he will be\ndespising the sun which he considers a god. But if he will not believe the\nmathematical calculations which employ a sort of constraint in\nteaching,\u2014as you yourselves say,\u2014surely he will be very far from believing\nthe arguments of philosophers; or, if he does believe any such, which\nschool will he believe? One may explain all the principles of natural\nphilosophers, but it would take a long time: I ask, however, whom he will\nfollow? Suppose for a moment that some one is now being made a wise man,\nbut is not one yet,\u2014what system and what school shall he select above all\nothers? For, whatever one he selects, he will select while he is still\nunwise. But grant that he is a man of godlike genius, which of all the\nnatural philosophers will he approve of above all others? For he cannot\napprove of more than one. I will not pursue an infinite number of\nquestions; only let us see whom he will approve of with respect to the\nelements of things of which all things are composed; for there is a great\ndisagreement among the greatest men on this subject.\n\nXXXVII. First of all, Thales, one of the seven, to whom they say that the\nother six yielded the preeminence, said that everything originated out of\nwater; but he failed to convince Anaximander, his countryman and\ncompanion, of this theory; for his idea was that there was an infinity of\nnature from which all things were produced. After him, his pupil,\nAnaximenes, said that the air was infinite, but that the things which were\ngenerated from it were finite; and that the earth, and water, and fire,\nwere generated, and that from them was produced everything else.\nAnaxagoras said that matter was infinite; but that from it were produced\nminute particles resembling one another; that at first they were confused,\nbut afterwards brought into order by divine intellect. Xenophanes, who was\na little more ancient still, asserted that all things were only one single\nbeing, and that that being was immutable and a god, not born, but\neverlasting, of a globular form. Parmenides considered that it is fire\nthat moves the earth, which is formed out of it. Leucippus thought that\nthere was a _plenum_, and a _vacuum_; Democritus resembled him in this\nidea, but was more copious on other matters: Empedocles adopts the theory\nof the four ordinary and commonly known elements. Heraclitus refers\neverything to fire; Melissus thinks that what exists is infinite,\nimmutable, always has existed, and always will. Plato thinks that the\nworld was made by God, so as to be eternal, out of matter which collects\neverything to itself. The Pythagoreans affirm that everything proceeds\nfrom numbers, and from the principles of mathematicians.\n\nNow of all these different teachers the wise man will, I imagine, select\nsome one to follow; all the rest, numerous, and great men as they are,\nwill be discarded by him and condemned; but whichever doctrine he approves\nof he will retain in his mind, being comprehended in the same manner as\nthose things which he comprehends by means of the senses; nor will he feel\nany greater certainty of the fact of its now being day, than, since he is\na Stoic, of this world being wise, being endowed with intellect, which has\nmade both itself and the world, and which regulates, sets in motion, and\ngoverns everything. He will also be persuaded that the sun, and moon, and\nall the stars, and the earth, and sea, are gods, because a certain animal\nintelligence pervades and passes through them all: but nevertheless that\nit will happen some day or other that all this world will be burnt up with\nfire.\n\nXXXVIII. Suppose that all this is true: (for you see already that I admit\nthat something is true,) still I deny that these things are comprehended\nand perceived. For when that wise Stoic of yours has repeated all that to\nyou, syllable by syllable, Aristotle will come forward pouring forth a\ngolden stream of eloquence, and pronounce him a fool; and assert that the\nworld has never had a beginning, because there never existed any beginning\nof so admirable a work from the adoption of a new plan: and that the world\nis so excellently made in every part that no power could be great enough\nto cause such motion, and such changes; nor could any time whatever be\nlong enough to produce an old age capable of causing all this beauty to\ndecay and perish. It will be indispensable for you to deny this, and to\ndefend the former doctrine as you would your own life and reputation; may\nI not have even leave to entertain a doubt on the matter? To say nothing\nabout the folly of people who assent to propositions rashly, what value am\nI to set upon a liberty which will not allow to me what is necessary for\nyou? Why did God, when he was making everything for the sake of man, (for\nthis is your doctrine,) make such a multitude of water-serpents and\nvipers? Why did he scatter so many pernicious and fatal things over the\nearth? You assert that all this universe could not have been made so\nbeautifully and so ingeniously without some godlike wisdom; the majesty of\nwhich you trace down even to the perfection of bees and ants; so that it\nwould seem that there must have been a Myrmecides(12) among the gods; the\nmaker of all animated things.\n\nYou say that nothing can have any power without God. Exactly opposite is\nthe doctrine of Strato of Lampsacus, who gives that God of his exemption\nfrom all important business. But as the priests of the gods have a\nholiday, how much more reasonable is it that the gods should have one\nthemselves? He then asserts that he has no need of the aid of the gods to\naccount for the making of the world. Everything that exists, he says, was\nmade by Nature: not agreeing with that other philosopher who teaches, that\nthe universe is a concrete mass of rough and smooth, and hooked and\ncrooked bodies, with the addition of a vacuum: this he calls a dream of\nDemocritus, and says that he is here not teaching, but wishing;\u2014but he\nhimself, examining each separate part of the world, teaches that whatever\nexists, and whatever is done, is caused, or has been caused, by natural\nweights and motions. In this way he releases God from a great deal of hard\nwork, and me from fear; for who is there who, (when he thinks that he is\nan object of divine care,) does not feel an awe of the divine power day\nand night? And who, whenever any misfortunes happen to him (and what man\nis there to whom none happen?) feels a dread lest they may have befallen\nhim deservedly\u2014not, indeed, that I agree with that; but neither do I with\nyou: at one time I think one doctrine more probable, and at other times I\nincline to the other.\n\nXXXIX. All these mysteries, O Lucullus, lie concealed and enveloped in\ndarkness so thick that no human ingenuity has a sight sufficiently\npiercing to penetrate into heaven, and dive into the earth. We do not\nunderstand our own bodies: we do not know what is the situation of their\ndifferent parts, or what power each part has: therefore, the physicians\nthemselves, whose business it was to understand these things, have opened\nbodies in order to lay those parts open to view. And yet empirics say that\nthey are not the better known for that; because it is possible that, by\nbeing laid open and uncovered, they may be changed. But is it possible for\nus, in the same manner, to anatomize, and open, and dissect the natures of\nthings, so as to see whether the earth is firmly fixed on its foundations\nand sticks firm on its roots, if I may so say, or whether it hangs in the\nmiddle of a vacuum? Xenophanes says that the moon is inhabited, and that\nit is a country of many cities and mountains. These assertions seem\nstrange, but the man who has made them could not take his oath that such\nis the case; nor could I take mine that it is not the case. You also say\nthat, opposite to us, on the contrary side of the earth, there are people\nwho stand with their feet opposite to our feet, and you call them\nAntipodes. Why are you more angry with me, who do not despise these\ntheories, than with those who, when they hear them, think that you are\nbeside yourselves?\n\nHiretas of Syracuse, as Theophrastus tells us, thinks that the sun, and\nmoon, and stars, and all the heavenly bodies, in short, stand still; and\nthat nothing in the world moves except the earth; and, as that turns and\nrevolves on its own axis with the greatest rapidity, he thinks that\neverything is made to appear by it as if it were the heaven which is moved\nwhile the earth stands still. And, indeed, some people think that Plato,\nin the Tim\u00e6us, asserts this, only rather obscurely. What is your opinion,\nEpicurus? Speak. Do you think that the sun is so small?\u2014Do I? Do you\nyourselves think it so large? But all of you are ridiculed by him, and you\nin your turn mock him. Socrates, then, is free from this ridicule, and so\nis Ariston of Chios, who thinks that none of these matters can be known.\n\nBut I return to the mind and body. Is it sufficiently known by us what is\nthe nature of the sinews and of the veins? Do we comprehend what the mind\nis?\u2014where it is?\u2014or, in short, whether it exists at all, or whether, as\nDic\u00e6archus thinks, there is no such thing whatever? If there is such a\nthing, do we know whether it has three divisions, as Plato thought; those\nof reason, anger, and desire?\u2014or whether it is single and uniform? If it\nis single and uniform, do we know whether it is fire, or breath, or\nblood?\u2014or, as Xenocrates says, number without a body?\u2014though, what sort of\nthing that is, is not very easy to understand. And whatever it is, do we\nknow whether it is mortal or eternal? For many arguments are alleged on\nboth sides.\n\nXL. Some of these theories seem certain to your wise man: but ours does\nnot even see what is most probable; so nearly equal in weight are the\nopposite arguments in most cases. If you proceed more modestly, and\nreproach me, not because I do not assent to your reasoning, but because I\ndo not assent to any, I will not resist any further: but I will select\nsome one with whom I may agree. Whom shall I choose?\u2014whom? Democritus?\nfor, as you know, I have always been a favourer of noble birth. I shall be\nat once overwhelmed with the reproaches of your whole body. Can you think,\nthey will say to me, that there is any vacuum, when everything is so\nfilled and close packed that whenever any body leaves its place and moves,\nthe place which it leaves is immediately occupied by some other body? Or\ncan you believe that there are any atoms to which whatever is made by\ntheir combination is entirely unlike? or that any excellent thing can be\nmade without intellect? And, since this admirable beauty is found in one\nworld, do you think that there are also innumerable other worlds, above,\nbelow, on the right hand and on the left, before, and behind, some unlike\nthis one, and some of the same kind? And, as we are now at Bauli, and are\nbeholding Puteoli, do you think that there are in other places like these\na countless host of men, of the same names and rank, and exploits, and\ntalents, and appearances, and ages, arguing on the same subjects? And if\nat this moment, or when we are asleep, we seem to see anything in our\nmind, do you think that those images enter from without, penetrating into\nour minds through our bodies? You can never adopt such ideas as these, or\ngive your assent to such preposterous notions. It is better to have no\nideas at all than to have such erroneous ones as these.\n\nYour object, then, is not to make me sanction anything by my assent. If it\nwere, consider whether it would not be an impudent, not to say an arrogant\ndemand, especially as these principles of yours do not seem to me to be\neven probable. For I do not believe that there is any such thing as\ndivination, which you assent to; and I also despise fate, by which you say\nthat everything is regulated. I do not even believe that this world was\nformed by divine wisdom; or, I should rather say, I do not know whether it\nwas so formed or not.\n\nXLI. But why should you seek to disparage me? May I not confess that I do\nnot understand what I really do not? Or may the Stoics argue with one\nother, and may I not argue with them? Zeno, and nearly all the rest of the\nStoics, consider \u00c6ther as the Supreme God, being endued with reason, by\nwhich everything is governed. Cleanthes, who we may call a Stoic, _Majorum\nGentium_, the pupil of Zeno, thinks that the Sun has the supreme rule over\nand government of everything. We are compelled, therefore, by the\ndissensions of these wise men, to be ignorant of our own ruler, inasmuch\nas we do not know whether we are subjects of the Sun or of \u00c6ther. But the\ngreat size of the sun, (for this present radiance of his appears to be\nlooking at me,) warns me to make frequent mention of him. Now you all\nspeak of his magnitude as if you had measured it with a ten-foot rule,\n(though I refuse credit to your measurement, looking on you as but bad\narchitects.) Is there then any room for doubt, which of us, to speak as\ngently as possible, is the more modest of the two? Not, however, that I\nthink those questions of the natural philosophers deserving of being\nutterly banished from our consideration; for the consideration and\ncontemplation of nature is a sort of natural food, if I may say so, for\nour minds and talents. We are elevated by it, we seem to be raised above\nthe earth, we look down on human affairs; and by fixing our thoughts on\nhigh and heavenly things we despise the affairs of this life, as small and\ninconsiderable. The mere investigation of things of the greatest\nimportance, which are at the same time very secret, has a certain pleasure\nin it. And when anything meets us which appears likely, our minds are\nfilled with pleasure thoroughly worthy of a man. Both your wise man and\nours, then, will inquire into these things; but yours will do so in order\nto assent, to feel belief, to express affirmation; ours, with such\nfeelings that he will fear to yield rashly to opinion, and will think that\nhe has succeeded admirably if in matters of this kind he has found out\nanything which is likely.\n\nLet us now come to the question of the knowledge of good and evil. But we\nmust say a few words by way of preface. It appears to me that they who\nspeak so positively about those questions of natural philosophy, do not\nreflect that they are depriving themselves of the authority of those ideas\nwhich appear more clear. For they cannot give a clearer assent to, or a\nmore positive approval of the fact that it is now daylight, than they do,\nwhen the crow croaks, to the idea that it is commanding or prohibiting\nsomething. Nor will they affirm that that statue is six feet high more\npositively after they have measured it, than that the sun, which they\ncannot measure, is more than eighteen times as large as the earth. From\nwhich this conclusion arises: if it cannot be perceived how large the sun\nis, he who assents to other things in the same manner as he does to the\nmagnitude of the sun, does not perceive them. But the magnitude of the sun\ncannot be perceived. He, then, who assents to a statement about it, as if\nhe perceived it, perceives nothing. Suppose they were to reply that it is\npossible to perceive how large the sun is; I will not object as long as\nthey admit that other things too can be perceived and comprehended in the\nsame manner. For they cannot affirm that one thing can be comprehended\nmore or less than another, since there is only one definition of the\ncomprehension of everything.\n\nXLII. However, to go back to what I had begun to say\u2014What have we in good\nand bad certainly ascertained? (we must, of course, fix boundaries to\nwhich the sum of good and evil is to be referred;) what subject, in fact,\nis there about which there is a greater disagreement between the most\nlearned men? I say nothing about those points which seem now to be\nabandoned; or about Herillus, who places the chief good in knowledge and\nscience: and though he had been a pupil of Zeno, you see how far he\ndisagrees with him, and how very little he differs from Plato. The school\nof the Megaric philosophers was a very celebrated one; and its chief, as I\nsee it stated in books, was Xenophanes, whom I mentioned just now. After\nhim came Parmenides and Zeno; and from them the Eleatic philosophers get\ntheir name. Afterwards came Euclid of Megara, a pupil of Socrates, from\nwhom that school got the name of Megaric. And they defined that as the\nonly good which was always one, alike, and identical. They also borrowed a\ngreat deal from Plato. But the Eretrian philosophers, who were so called\nfrom Menedumus, because he was a native of Eretria, placed all good in the\nmind, and in that acuteness of the mind by which the truth is discerned.\nThe Megarians say very nearly the same, only that they, I think, develop\ntheir theory with more elegance and richness of illustration. If we now\ndespise these men, and think them worthless, at all events we ought to\nshow more respect for Ariston, who, having been a pupil of Zeno, adopted\nin reality the principles which he had asserted in words; namely, that\nthere was nothing good except virtue, and nothing evil except what was\ncontrary to virtue; and who denied altogether the existence of those\ninfluences which Zeno contended for as being intermediate, and neither\ngood nor evil. His idea of the chief good, is being affected in neither\ndirection by these circumstances; and this state of mind he calls\n\u1f00\u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03af\u03b1; but Pyrrho asserts that the wise man does not even feel them;\nand that state is called \u1f00\u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1.\n\nTo say nothing, then, of all these opinions, let us now examine those\nothers which have been long and vigorously maintained. Some have accounted\npleasure the chief good; the chief of whom was Aristippus, who had been a\npupil of Socrates, and from whom the Cyrenaic school spring. After him\ncame Epicurus, whose school is now better known, though he does not\nexactly agree with the Cyrenaics about pleasure itself. But Callipho\nthought that pleasure and honour combined made up the chief good.\nHieronymus placed it in being free from all annoyance; Diodorus in this\nstate when combined with honour. Both these last men were Peripatetics. To\nlive honourably, enjoying those things which nature makes most dear to\nman, was the definition both of the Old Academy, (as we may learn from the\nwritings of Polemo, who is highly approved of by Antiochus,) and of\nAristotle, and it is the one to which his friends appear now to come\nnearest. Carneades also introduced a definition, (not because he approved\nof it himself, but for the sake of opposition to the Stoics,) that the\nchief good is to enjoy those things which nature has made man consider as\nmost desirable. But Zeno laid it down that that honourableness which\narises from conformity to nature is the chief good. And Zeno was the\nfounder and chief of the Stoic school.\n\nXLIII. This now is plain enough, that all these chief goods which I have\nmentioned have a chief evil corresponding to them, which is their exact\nopposite. I now put it to you, whom shall I follow? only do not let any\none make me so ignorant and absurd a reply as, Any one, provided only that\nyou follow some one or other. Nothing more inconsiderate can be said: I\nwish to follow the Stoics. Will Antiochus, (I do not say Aristotle, a man\nalmost, in my opinion, unrivalled as a philosopher, but will Antiochus)\ngive me leave? And he was called an Academic; but he would have been, with\nvery little alteration, something very like a Stoic. The matter shall now\nbe brought to a decision. For we must either give the wise man to the\nStoics or to the Old Academy. He cannot belong to both; for the contention\nbetween them is not one about boundaries, but about the whole territory.\nFor the whole system of life depends on the definition of the chief good;\nand those who differ on that point, differ about the whole system of life.\nIt is impossible, therefore, that those of both these schools should be\nwise, since they differ so much from one another: but one of them only can\nbe so. If it be the disciple of Polemo, then the Stoic is wrong, who\nassents to an error: and you say that nothing is so incompatible with the\ncharacter of a wise man as that. But if the principles of Zeno be true,\nthen we must say the same of the Old Academics and of the Peripatetics;\nand as I do not know which is the more wise of the two, I give my assent\nto neither. What? when Antiochus in some points disagrees with the Stoics\nwhom he is so fond of, does he not show that these principles cannot be\napproved of by a wise man?\n\nThe Stoics assert that all offences are equal: but Antiochus energetically\nresists this doctrine. At least, let me consider before I decide which\nopinion I will embrace. Cut the matter short, says he, do at last decide\non something. What? The reasons which are given appear to me to be both\nshrewd and nearly equal: may I not then be on my guard against committing\na crime? for you called it a crime, Lucullus, to violate a principle; I,\ntherefore, restrain myself, lest I should assent to what I do not\nunderstand; and this principle I have in common with you.\n\nHere, however, is a much greater difference.\u2014Zeno thinks that a happy life\ndepends on virtue alone. What says Antiochus? He admits that this is true\nof a happy life, but not of the happiest possible life. The first is a\ngod, who thinks that nothing can be wanting to virtue; the latter is a\nmiserable man, who thinks that there are many things besides virtue, some\nof which are dear to a man, and some even necessary. But I am afraid that\nthe former may be attributing to virtue more than nature can bear;\nespecially since Theophrastus has said many things with eloquence and\ncopiousness on this subject; and I fear that even he may not be quite\nconsistent with himself. For though he admits that there are some evils\nboth of body and fortune, he nevertheless thinks that a man may be happy\nwho is afflicted by them all, provided he is wise. I am perplexed here; at\none time the one opinion appears to me to be more probable, and at another\ntime the other does. And yet, unless one or the other be true, I think\nvirtue must be entirely trampled under foot.\n\nXLIV. However, they differ as to this principle. What then? Can we\napprove, as true, of those maxims on which they agree; namely, that the\nmind of the wise man is never influenced by either desire or joy? Come,\nsuppose this opinion is a probable one, is this other one so too; namely,\nthat it never feels either alarm or grief? Cannot the wise fear? And if\nhis country be destroyed, cannot he grieve? That seems harsh, but Zeno\nthinks it inevitable; for he considers nothing good except what is\nhonourable. But you do not think it true in the least, Antiochus. For you\nadmit that there are many good things besides honour, and many evils\nbesides baseness; and it is inevitable that the wise man must fear such\nwhen coming, and grieve when they have come. But I ask when it was decided\nby the Old Academy that they were to deny that the mind of the wise man\ncould be agitated or disturbed? They approved of intermediate states, and\nasserted that there was a kind of natural mean in every agitation. We have\nall read the treatise on Grief, by Crantor, a disciple of the Old Academy.\nIt is not large, but it is a golden book, and one, as Pan\u00e6tius tells\nTubero, worth learning by heart. And these men used to say that those\nagitations were very profitably given to our minds by nature; fear, in\norder that we may take care; pity and melancholy they called the whetstone\nof our clemency; and anger itself that of our courage. Whether they were\nright or wrong we may consider another time. How it was that those stern\ndoctrines of yours forced their way into the Old Academy I do not know,\nbut I cannot bear them; not because they have anything in them\nparticularly disagreeable to me; for many of the marvellous doctrines of\nthe Stoics, which men call \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ac\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03b1, are derived from Socrates. But where\nhas Xenocrates or where has Aristotle touched these points? For you try to\nmake out the Stoics to be the same as these men. Would they ever say that\nwise men were the only kings, the only rich, the only handsome men? that\neverything everywhere belonged to the wise man? that no one was a consul,\nor pr\u00e6tor, or general, or even, for aught I know, a quinquevir, but the\nwise man? lastly, that he was the only citizen, the only free man? and\nthat all who are destitute of wisdom are foreigners, exiles, slaves, or\nmadmen? last of all, that the writings of Lycurgus and Solon and our\nTwelve Tables are not laws? that there are even no cities or states except\nthose which are peopled by wise men? Now these maxims, O Lucullus, if you\nagree with Antiochus, your own friend, must be defended by you as\nzealously as the bulwarks of your city; but I am only bound to uphold them\nwith moderation, just as much as I think fit.\n\nXLV. I have read in Clitomachus, that when Carneades and Diogenes the\nStoic were standing in the capitol before the senate, Aulus Albonus (who\nwas pr\u00e6tor at the time, in the consulship of Publius Scipio and Marcus\nMarcellus, the same Albonus who was consul, Lucullus, with your own\ngrandfather, a learned man, as his own history shows, which is written in\nGreek) said jestingly to Carneades\u2014\u201cI do not, O Carneades, seem to you to\nbe pr\u00e6tor because I am not wise, nor does this seem to be a city, nor do\nthe inhabitants seem to be citizens, for the same reason.\u201d And he\nanswered\u2014\u201cThat is the Stoic doctrine.\u201d Aristotle or Xenocrates, whom\nAntiochus wished to follow, would have had no doubt that he was pr\u00e6tor,\nand Rome a city, and that it was inhabited by citizens. But our friend is,\nas I said before, a manifest Stoic, though he talks a little nonsense.\n\nBut you are all afraid for me, lest I should descend to opinions, and\nadopt and approve of something that I do not understand; which you would\nbe very sorry for me to do. What advice do you give me? Chrysippus often\ntestifies that there are three opinions only about the chief good which\ncan be defended; he cuts off and discards all the rest. He says that\neither honour is the chief good, or pleasure, or both combined. For that\nthose who say that the chief good is to be free from all annoyance, shun\nthe unpopular name of pleasure, but hover about its neighbourhood. And\nthose also do the same who combine that freedom from annoyance with\nhonour. And those do not much differ from them who unite to honour the\nchief advantages of nature. So he leaves three opinions which he thinks\nmay be maintained by probable arguments.\n\nBe it so. Although I am not easily to be moved from the definition of\nPolemo and the Peripatetics, and Antiochus, nor have I anything more\nprobable to bring forward. Still, I see how sweetly pleasure allures our\nsenses. I am inclined to agree with Epicurus or Aristippus. But virtue\nrecalls me, or rather leads me back with her hand; says that these are the\nfeelings of cattle, and that man is akin to the Deity. I may take a middle\ncourse; so that, since Aristippus, as if we had no mind, defends nothing\nbut the body, and Zeno espouses the cause of the mind alone, as if we were\ndestitute of body, I may follow Callipho, whose opinion Carneades used to\ndefend with such zeal, that he appeared wholly to approve of it; although\nClitomachus affirmed that he never could understand what Carneades\napproved of. But if I were to choose to follow him, would not truth\nitself, and all sound and proper reason, oppose me? Will you, when honour\nconsists in despising pleasure, unite honour to pleasure, joining, as it\nwere, a man to a beast?\n\nXLVI. There is now, then, only one pair of combatants left\u2014pleasure and\nhonour; between which Chrysippus, as far as I can see, was not long in\nperplexity how to decide. If you follow the one, many things are\noverthrown, especially the fellowship of the human race, affection,\nfriendship, justice, and all other virtues, none of which can exist at all\nwithout disinterestedness: for the virtue which is impelled to action by\npleasure, as by a sort of wages, is not really virtue, but only a\ndeceitful imitation and pretence of virtue. Listen, on the contrary, to\nthose men who say that they do not even understand the name of honour,\nunless we call that honourable which is accounted reputable by the\nmultitude; that the source of all good is in the body; that this is the\nlaw, and rule, and command of nature; and that he who departs from it will\nnever have any object in life to follow. Do you think, then, that I am not\nmoved when I hear these and innumerable other statements of the same kind?\nI am moved as much as you are, Lucullus; and you need not think me less a\nman than yourself. The only difference is that you, when you are agitated,\nacquiesce, assent, and approve; you consider the impression which you have\nreceived true, certain, comprehended, perceived, established, firm, and\nunalterable; and you cannot be moved or driven from it by any means\nwhatever. I think that there is nothing of such a kind that, if I assent\nto it, I shall not often be assenting to what is false; since there is no\ndistinct line of demarcation between what is true and what is false,\nespecially as the science of dialectics has no power of judging on this\nsubject.\n\nI come now to the third part of philosophy. There is an idea advanced by\nProtagoras, who thinks that that is true to each individual which seems so\nto him; and a completely different one put forward by the Cyrenaics, who\nthink that there is no such thing as certain judgment about anything\nexcept the inner feelings: and a third, different from either, maintained\nby Epicurus, who places all judgment in the senses, and in our notions of\nthings, and in pleasure. But Plato considered that the whole judgment of\ntruth, and that truth itself, being abstracted from opinions and from the\nsenses, belonged to the province of thought and of the intellect. Does our\nfriend Antiochus approve of any of these principles? He does not even\napprove of those who may be called his own ancestors in philosophy: for\nwhere does he follow Xenocrates, who has written a great many books on the\nmethod of speaking, which are highly esteemed?\u2014or Aristotle himself, than\nwhom there is no more acute or elegant writer? He never goes one step\nwithout Chrysippus.\n\nXLVII. Do we then, who are called Academics, misuse the glory of this\nname? or why are we to be compelled to follow those men who differ from\none another? In this very thing, which the dialecticians teach among the\nelements of their art, how one ought to judge whether an argument be true\nor false which is connected in this manner, \u201cIf it is day, it shines,\u201d how\ngreat a contest there is;\u2014Diodorus has one opinion, Philo another,\nChrysippus a third. Need I say more? In how many points does Chrysippus\nhimself differ from Cleanthes, his own teacher? Again, do not two of the\nvery princes of the dialecticians, Antipater and Archidemus, men most\ndevoted to hypothesis, disagree in numbers of things? Why then, Lucullus,\ndo you seek to bring me into odium, and drag me, as it were, before the\nassembly? And why, as seditious tribunes often do, do you order all the\nshops to be shut? For what is your object when you complain that all\ntrades are being suppressed by us, if it be not to excite the artisans?\nBut, if they all come together from all quarters, they will be easily\nexcited against you; for, first of all, I will cite all those unpopular\nexpressions of yours when you called all those, who will then be in the\nassembly, exiles, and slaves, and madmen: and then I will come to those\narguments which touch not the multitude, but you yourselves who are here\npresent. For Zeno and Antiochus both deny that any of you know anything.\nHow so? you will say; for we allege, on the other hand, that even a man\nwithout wisdom comprehends many things. But you affirm that no one except\na wise man knows one single thing. And Zeno professed to illustrate this\nby a piece of action; for when he stretched out his fingers, and showed\nthe palm of his hand, \u201cPerception,\u201d said he, \u201cis a thing like this.\u201d Then,\nwhen he had a little closed his fingers, \u201cAssent is like this.\u201d\nAfterwards, when he had completely closed his hand, and held forth his\nfist, that, he said, was comprehension. From which simile he also gave\nthat state a name which it had not before, and called it \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03b7\u03c8\u03b9\u03c2. But\nwhen he brought his left hand against his right, and with it took a firm\nand tight hold of his fist, knowledge, he said, was of that character; and\nthat was what none but a wise man possessed. But even those who are\nthemselves wise men do not venture to say so, nor any one who has ever\nlived and been a wise man. According to that theory, you, Catulus, do not\nknow that it is daylight; and you, Hortensius, are ignorant that we are\nnow in your villa.\n\nNow, are these arguments less formidable than yours? They are not,\nperhaps, very refined; and those others show more acuteness. But, just as\nyou said, that if nothing could be comprehended, all the arts were\ndestroyed at once, and would not grant that mere probability was a\nsufficient foundation for art; so I now reply to you, that art cannot\nexist without knowledge. Would Zeuxis, or Phidias, or Polycletus allow\nthat they knew nothing, when they were men of such marvellous skill? But\nif any one had explained to them how much power knowledge was said to\nhave, they would cease to be angry; they would not even be offended with\nus, when they had learnt that we were only putting an end to what did not\nexist anywhere; but that we left them what was quite sufficient for them.\n\nAnd this doctrine is confirmed also by the diligence of our ancestors, who\nordained, in the first place, that every one should swear \u201caccording to\nthe opinion of his own mind;\u201d secondly, that he should be accounted guilty\n\u201cif he knowingly swore falsely,\u201d because there was a great deal of\nignorance in life; thirdly, that the man who was giving his evidence\nshould say that \u201che thought,\u201d even in a case where he was speaking of what\nhe had actually seen himself. And that when the judges were giving their\ndecision on their evidence, they should say, not that such and such a\nthing had been done, but that such and such a thing appeared to them.\n\nXLVIII. But since the sailor is making signals, and the west wind is\nshowing us too, by its murmur, that it is time for us, Lucullus, to set\nsail, and since I have already said a great deal, I must now conclude. But\nhereafter, when we inquire into these subjects, we will discuss the great\ndisagreements between the most eminent on the subject of the obscurity of\nnature, and the errors of so many philosophers who differ from one another\nabout good and evil so widely, that, as more than one of their theories\ncannot be true, it is inevitable that many illustrious schools must fall\nto the ground, rather than the theories about the false impressions of the\neyes and the other senses, and sorites, or false syllogism,\u2014rods which the\nStoics have made to beat themselves with.\n\nThen Lucullus replied, I am not at all sorry that we have had this\ndiscussion; for often, when we meet again, especially in our Tusculan\nvillas, we can examine other questions which seem worth investigation.\nCertainly, said I; but what does Catulus think? and Hortensius? I? said\nCatulus. I return to my father\u2019s opinion, which he used to say was derived\nfrom Carneades, and think that nothing can be perceived; but still I\nimagine that a wise man will assent to what is not actually perceived\u2014that\nis to say, will form opinions: being, however, aware at the same time that\nthey are only opinions, and knowing that there is nothing which can be\ncomprehended and perceived. And, practising that \u1f10\u03c0\u03bf\u03c7\u1f74 so as to take\nprobability for a guide in all things, I altogether assent to that other\ndoctrine, that nothing can be perceived. I see your meaning, said I; and I\ndo not very much object to it. But what is your opinion, Hortensius? He\nlaughed, and said, I suspend my judgment. I understand, said I; for that\nis the peculiar principle of the Academy.\n\nSo, after we had finished our discourse, Catulus remained behind, and we\nwent down to the shore to embark in our vessels.\n\n\n\n\n\nA TREATISE ON THE CHIEF GOOD AND EVIL.\n\n\nIntroduction.\n\nThe following treatise was composed by Cicero a little before the\npublication of his Tusculan Disputations. It consists of a series of\nDialogues, in which the opinions of the different schools of Greek\nphilosophy, especially the Epicureans, Stoics, and Peripatetics, on the\nSupreme Good, as the proper object or end (_finis_) of our thoughts and\nactions, are investigated and compared. It is usually reckoned one of the\nmost highly finished and valuable of his philosophical works; though from\nthe abstruse nature of some of the topics dwelt upon, and the subtlety of\nsome of the arguments adduced, it is unquestionably the most difficult.\n\nHe gives an account himself of the work and of his design and plan in the\nfollowing terms. (Epist. ad Att. xiii. 19.) \u201cWhat I have lately written is\nin the manner of Aristotle, where the conversation is so managed that he\nhimself has the principal part. I have finished the five books De Finibus\nBonorum et Malorum, so as to give the Epicurean doctrine to Lucius\nTorquatus, the Stoic to Marcus Cato, and the Peripatetic to Marcus Cato.\nFor I considered that their being dead would preclude all jealousy.\u201d He\ndoes not, however, maintain the unity of scene or character throughout the\nfive books. In the first book he relates a discussion which is represented\nas having taken place in his villa near Cum\u00e6, in the presence of Caius\nValerius Triarius, between himself and Lucius Manlius Torquatus, who is\nspoken of as being just about to enter his office as pr\u00e6tor, a\ncircumstance which fixes the date of this imaginary discussion to B.C. 50,\na time agreeing with the allusion (B. ii. 18,) to the great power of\nPompey. In the first book he attacks the doctrines of the Epicurean\nschool, and Torquatus defends them, alleging that they had been generally\nmisunderstood; and in the second book Cicero enumerates the chief\narguments with which the Stoics assailed them.\n\nIn the third book the scene is laid in the library of Lucullus, where\nCicero had accidentally met Cato; and from conversing on the books by\nwhich they were surrounded they proceeded to discuss the difference\nbetween the ethics of the Stoics, and those of the Old Academy and the\nPeripatetics; Cicero insisting that the disagreement was merely verbal and\nnot real, and that Zeno was wrong in leaving Plato and Aristotle and\nestablishing a new school; but Cato asserts, on the other hand, that the\ndifference is a real one, and that the views held by the Stoics of the\nSupreme Good are of a much loftier and purer character than those which\nhad been previously entertained. In the fourth book Cicero gives us the\narguments with which the philosophers of the New Academy assailed the\nStoics. And this conversation is supposed to have been held two years\nbefore that in the first book: for at the beginning of Book IV. there is a\nreference to the law for limiting the length of the speeches of counsel\npassed in the second consulship of Pompey, B.C. 55, as being only just\npassed.\n\nIn the fifth book we are carried back to B.C. 79, and the scene is laid at\nAthens, where Cicero was at that time under Antiochus and Demetrius. He\nand his brother Quintus, Lucius Cicero his cousin, Pomponius Atticus, and\nMarcus Pupius Piso are represented as meeting in the Academia; and Piso,\nat the request of his companions, lays open the precepts inculcated by\nAristotle and his school on the subject of the Summum Bonum; after which\nCicero states the objections of the Stoics to the Peripatetic system, and\nPiso replies. While giving the opinions of these above-named sects with\ngreat fairness and impartiality Cicero abstains throughout from\npronouncing any judgment of his own.\n\n\n\n\nFirst Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n\n\nI. I was not ignorant, Brutus, when I was endeavouring to add to Latin\nliterature the same things which philosophers of the most sublime genius\nand the most profound and accurate learning had previously handled in the\nGreek language, that my labours would be found fault with on various\ngrounds. For some, and those too, far from unlearned men, are disinclined\nto philosophy altogether; some, on the other hand, do not blame a moderate\ndegree of attention being given to it, but do not approve of so much study\nand labour being devoted to it. There will be others again, learned in\nGreek literature and despising Latin compositions, who will say that they\nwould rather spend their time in reading Greek; and, lastly, I suspect\nthat there will be some people who will insist upon it that I ought to\napply myself to other studies, and will urge that, although this style of\nwriting may be an elegant accomplishment, it is still beneath my character\nand dignity. And to all these objections I think I ought to make a brief\nreply; although, indeed, I have already given a sufficient answer to the\nenemies of philosophy in that book in which philosophy is defended and\nextolled by me after having been attacked and disparaged by\nHortensius.(13) And as both you and others whom I considered competent\njudges approved highly of that book, I have undertaken a larger work,\nfearing to appear able only to excite the desires of men, but incapable of\nretaining their attention. But those who, though they have a very good\nopinion of philosophy, still think it should be followed in a moderate\ndegree only, require a temperance which is very difficult in a thing\nwhich, when once it has the reins given it, cannot be checked or\nrepressed; so that I almost think those men more reasonable who altogether\nforbid us to apply ourselves to philosophy at all, than they who fix a\nlimit to things which are in their nature boundless, and who require\nmediocrity in a thing which is excellent exactly in proportion to its\nintensity.\n\nFor, if it be possible that men should arrive at wisdom, then it must not\nonly be acquired by us, but even enjoyed. Or if this be difficult, still\nthere is no limit to the way in which one is to seek for truth except one\nhas found it; and it is base to be wearied in seeking a thing, when what\nwe do seek for is the most honourable thing possible. In truth, if we are\namused when we are writing, who is so envious as to wish to deny us that\npleasure? If it is a labour to us, who will fix a limit to another\nperson\u2019s industry? For as the Chremes(14) of Terence does not speak from a\ndisregard of what is due to men when he does not wish his new neighbour\n\n\n    To dig, or plough, or any toil endure:\n\n\nfor he is not in this dissuading him from industry, but only from such\nlabour as is beneath a gentleman; so, on the other hand those men are over\nscrupulous who are offended by my devoting myself to a labour which is far\nfrom irksome to myself.\n\nII. It is more difficult to satisfy those men who allege that they despise\nLatin writings. But, first of all, I may express my wonder at their not\nbeing pleased with their native language in matters of the highest\nimportance, when they are fond enough of reading fables in Latin,\ntranslated word for word from the Greek. For what man is such an enemy (as\nI may almost call it) to the Roman name, as to despise or reject the Medea\nof Ennius, or the Antiope of Pacuvius? and to express a dislike of Latin\nliterature, while at the same time he speaks of being pleased with the\nplays of Euripides? \u201cWhat,\u201d says such an one, \u201cshall I rather read the\nSynephebi of C\u00e6cilius,(15) or the Andria of Terence, than either of these\nplays in the original of Menander?\u201d But I disagree with men of these\nopinions so entirely, that though Sophocles has composed an Electra in the\nmost admirable manner possible, still I think the indifferent translation\nof it by Atilius(16) worth reading too, though Licinius calls him an iron\nwriter; with much truth in my opinion; still he is a writer whom it is\nworth while to read. For to be wholly unacquainted with our own poets is a\nproof either of the laziest indolence, or else of a very superfluous\nfastidiousness.\n\nMy own opinion is, that no one is sufficiently learned who is not well\nversed in the works written in our own language. Shall we not be as\nwilling to read\u2014\n\n\n    Would that the pine, the pride of Pelion\u2019s brow,\n\n\nas the same idea when expressed in Greek? And is there any objection to\nhaving the discussions which have been set out by Plato, on the subject of\nliving well and happily, arrayed in a Latin dress? And if we do not limit\nourselves to the office of translators, but maintain those arguments which\nhave been advanced by people with whom we argue, and add to them the\nexposition of our own sentiments, and clothe the whole in our own\nlanguage, why then should people prefer the writings of the Greeks to\nthose things which are written by us in an elegant style, without being\ntranslated from the works of Greek philosophers? For if they say that\nthese matters have been discussed by those foreign writers, then there\nsurely is no necessity for their reading such a number of those Greeks as\nthey do. For what article of Stoic doctrine has been passed over by\nChrysippus? And yet we read also Diogenes,(17) Antipater,(18)\nMnesarchus,(19) Pan\u00e6tius,(20) and many others, and especially the works of\nmy own personal friend Posidonius.(21) What shall we say of Theophrastus?\nIs it but a moderate pleasure which he imparts to us while he is handling\nthe topics which had been previously dilated on by Aristotle? What shall\nwe say of the Epicureans? Do they pass over the subjects on which Epicurus\nhimself and other ancient writers have previously written, and forbear to\ndeliver their sentiments respecting them? But if Greek authors are read by\nthe Greeks, though discussing the same subjects over and over again,\nbecause they deal with them in different manners, why should not the\nwritings of Roman authors be also read by our own countrymen?\n\nIII. Although if I were to translate Plato or Aristotle in as bold a\nmanner as our poets have translated the Greek plays, then, I suppose, I\nshould not deserve well at the hands of my fellow-countrymen, for having\nbrought those divine geniuses within their reach. However, that is not\nwhat I have hitherto done, though I do not consider myself interdicted\nfrom doing so. Some particular passages, if I think it desirable, I shall\ntranslate, especially from those authors whom I have just named, when\nthere is an opportunity of doing so with propriety; just as Ennius often\ntranslates passages from Homer, and Afranius(22) from Menander. Nor will\nI, like Lucilius, make any objection to everybody reading my writings. I\nshould be glad to have that Persius(23) for one of my readers; and still\nmore to have Scipio and Rutilius; men whose criticism he professed to\nfear, saying that he wrote for the people of Tarentum, and Consentia, and\nSicily. That was all very witty of him, and in his usual style; but still,\npeople at that time were not so learned as to give him cause to labour\nmuch before he could encounter their judgment, and his writings are of a\nlightish character, showing indeed, a high degree of good breeding, but\nonly a moderate quantity of learning. But whom can I fear to have read my\nworks when I ventured to address a book to you, who are not inferior to\nthe Greeks themselves in philosophical knowledge? Although I have this\nexcuse for what I am doing, that I have been challenged by you, in that to\nme most acceptable book which you sent me \u201cOn Virtue.\u201d\n\nBut I imagine that some people have become accustomed to feel a repugnance\nto Latin writing because they have fallen in with some unpolished and\ninelegant treatises translated from bad Greek into worse Latin. And with\nthose men I agree, provided they will not think it worth while to read the\nGreek books written on the same subject. But who would object to read\nworks on important subjects expressed in well-selected diction, with\ndignity and elegance; unless, indeed, he wishes to be taken absolutely for\na Greek, as Albucius was saluted at Athens by Sc\u00e6vola, when he was pr\u00e6tor?\nAnd this topic has been handled by that same Lucilius with great elegance\nand abundant wit; where he represents Sc\u00e6vola as saying\u2014\n\n\n    You have preferr\u2019d, Albucius, to be call\u2019d\n    A Greek much rather than a Roman citizen\n    Or Sabine, countryman of Pontius,\n    Tritannius, and the brave centurions\n    And standard-bearers of immortal fame.\n    So now at Athens, I, the pr\u00e6tor, thus\n    Salute you as you wish, whene\u2019er I see you,\n    With Greek address, \u1f66 \u03c7\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b5 noble Titus,\n    Ye lictors, and attendants \u03c7\u03b1\u03af\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5.\n    \u1f66 \u03c7\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b5 noble Titus. From this day\n    The great Albucius was my enemy.\n\n\nBut surely Sc\u00e6vola was right. However, I can never sufficiently express my\nwonder whence this arrogant disdain of everything national arose among us.\nThis is not exactly the place for lecturing on the subject; but my own\nfeelings are, and I have constantly urged them, that the Latin language is\nnot only not deficient, so as to deserve to be generally disparaged; but\nthat it is even more copious than the Greek. For when have either we\nourselves, or when has any good orator or noble poet, at least after there\nwas any one for him to imitate, found himself at a loss for any richness\nor ornament of diction with which to set off his sentiments?\n\nIV. And I myself (as I do not think that I can be accused of having, in my\nforensic exertions, and labours, and dangers, deserted the post in which I\nwas stationed by the Roman people,) am bound, forsooth, to exert myself as\nmuch as I can to render my fellow-countrymen more learned by my labours\nand studies and diligence, and not so much to contend with those men who\nprefer reading Greek works, provided that they really do read them, and do\nnot only pretend to do so; and to fall in also with the wishes of those\nmen who are desirous either to avail themselves of both languages, or who,\nas long as they have good works in their own, do not care very much about\nsimilar ones in a foreign tongue. But those men who would rather that I\nwould write on other topics should be reasonable, because I have already\ncomposed so many works that no one of my countrymen has ever published\nmore, and perhaps I shall write even more if my life is prolonged so as to\nallow me to do so. And yet, whoever accustoms himself to read with care\nthese things which I am now writing on the subject of philosophy, will\ncome to the conclusion that no works are better worth reading than these.\nFor what is there in life which deserves to be investigated so diligently\nas every subject which belongs to philosophy, and especially that which is\ndiscussed in this treatise, namely, what is the end, the object, the\nstandard to which all the ideas of living well and acting rightly are to\nbe referred? What it is that nature follows as the chief of all desirable\nthings? what she avoids as the principal of all evils?\n\nAnd as on this subject there is great difference of opinion among the most\nlearned men, who can think it inconsistent with that dignity which every\none allows to belong to me, to examine what is in every situation in life\nthe best and truest good? Shall the chief men of the city, Publius Sc\u00e6vola\nand Marcus Manilius argue whether the offspring of a female slave ought to\nbe considered the gain of the master of the slave; and shall Marcus Brutus\nexpress his dissent from their opinion, (and this is a kind of discussion\ngiving great room for the display of acuteness, and one too that is of\nimportance as regards the citizens,) and do we read, and shall we continue\nto read, with pleasure their writings on this subject, and the others of\nthe same sort, and at the same time neglect these subjects, which embrace\nthe whole of human life? There may, perhaps, be more money affected by\ndiscussions on that legal point, but beyond all question, this of ours is\nthe more important subject: that, however, is a point which the readers\nmay be left to decide upon. But we now think that this whole question\nabout the ends of good and evil is, I may almost say, thoroughly explained\nin this treatise, in which we have endeavoured to set forth as far as we\ncould, not only what our own opinion was, but also everything which has\nbeen advanced by each separate school of philosophy.\n\nV. To begin, however, with that which is easiest, we will first of all\ntake the doctrine of Epicurus, which is well known to most people; and you\nshall see that it is laid down by us in such a way that it cannot be\nexplained more accurately even by the adherents of that sect themselves.\nFor we are desirous of ascertaining the truth; not of convicting some\nadversary.\n\nBut the opinion of Epicurus about pleasure was formerly defended with\ngreat precision by Lucius Torquatus, a man accomplished in every kind of\nlearning; and I myself replied to him, while Caius Triarius, a most\nlearned and worthy young man, was present at the discussion. For as it\nhappened that both of them had come to my villa near Cum\u00e6 to pay me a\nvisit, first of all we conversed a little about literature, to which they\nwere both of them greatly devoted; and after a while Torquatus said\u2014Since\nwe have found you in some degree at leisure, I should like much to hear\nfrom you why it is that you, I will not say hate our master Epicurus\u2014as\nmost men do who differ from him in opinion\u2014but still why you disagree with\nhim whom I consider as the only man who has discerned the real truth, and\nwho I think has delivered the minds of men from the greatest errors, and\nhas handed down every precept which can have any influence on making men\nlive well and happily. But I imagine that you, like my friend Triarius\nhere, like him the less because he neglected the ornaments of diction in\nwhich Plato, and Aristotle, and Theophrastus indulged. For I can hardly be\npersuaded to believe that the opinions which he entertained do not appear\nto you to be correct. See now, said I, how far you are mistaken,\nTorquatus. I am not offended with the language of that philosopher; for he\nexpresses his meaning openly and speaks in plain language, so that I can\nunderstand him. Not, however, that I should object to eloquence in a\nphilosopher, if he were to think fit to employ it; though if he were not\npossessed of it I should not require it. But I am not so well satisfied\nwith his matter, and that too on many topics. But there are as many\ndifferent opinions as there are men; and therefore we may be in error\nourselves. What is it, said he, in which you are dissatisfied with him?\nFor I consider you a candid judge; provided only that you are accurately\nacquainted with what he has really said. Unless, said I, you think that\nPh\u00e6drus or Zeno have spoken falsely (and I have heard them both lecture,\nthough they gave me a high opinion of nothing but their own diligence,)\nall the doctrines of Epicurus are quite sufficiently known to me. And I\nhave repeatedly, in company with my friend Atticus, attended the lectures\nof those men whom I have named; as he had a great admiration for both of\nthem, and an especial affection even for Ph\u00e6drus. And every day we used to\ntalk over what we heard, nor was there ever any dispute between us as to\nwhether I understood the scope of their arguments; but only whether I\napproved of them.\n\nVI. What is it, then, said he, which you do not approve of in them, for I\nam very anxious to hear? In the first place, said I, he is utterly wrong\nin natural philosophy, which is his principal boast. He only makes some\nadditions to the doctrine of Democritus, altering very little, and that in\nsuch a way that he seems to me to make those points worse which he\nendeavours to correct. He believes that atoms, as he calls them, that is\nto say bodies which by reason of their solidity are indivisible, are borne\nabout in an interminable vacuum, destitute of any highest, or lowest, or\nmiddle, or furthest, or nearest boundary, in such a manner that by their\nconcourse they cohere together; by which cohesion everything which exists\nand which is seen is formed. And he thinks that motion of atoms should be\nunderstood never to have had a beginning, but to have subsisted from all\neternity.\n\nBut in those matters in which Epicurus follows Democritus, he is usually\nnot very wrong. Although there are many assertions of each with which I\ndisagree, and especially with this\u2014that as in the nature of things there\nare two points which must be inquired into,\u2014one, what the material out of\nwhich everything is made, is; the other, what the power is which makes\neverything,\u2014they discussed only the material, and omitted all\nconsideration of the efficient power and cause. However, that is a fault\ncommon to both of them; but these blunders which I am going to mention are\nEpicurus\u2019s own.\n\nFor he thinks that those indivisible and solid bodies are borne downwards\nby their own weight in a straight line; and that this is the natural\nmotion of all bodies. After this assertion, that shrewd man,\u2014as it\noccurred to him, that if everything were borne downwards in a straight\nline, as I have just said, it would be quite impossible for one atom ever\nto touch another,\u2014on this account he introduced another purely imaginary\nidea, and said that the atoms diverged a little from the straight line,\nwhich is the most impossible thing in the world. And he asserted that it\nis in this way that all those embraces, and conjunctions, and unions of\nthe atoms with one another took place, by which the world was made, and\nall the parts of the world, and all that is in the world. And not only is\nall this idea perfectly childish, but it fails in effecting its object.\nFor this very divergence is invented in a most capricious manner, (for he\nsays that each atom diverges without any cause,) though nothing can be\nmore discreditable to a natural philosopher than to say that anything\ntakes place without a cause; and also, without any reason, he deprives\natoms of that motion which is natural to every body of any weight (as he\nhimself lays it down) which goes downwards from the upper regions; and at\nthe same time he does not obtain the end for the sake of which he invented\nall these theories.\n\nFor if every atom diverges equally, still none will ever meet with one\nanother so as to cohere; but if some diverge, and others are borne\nstraight down by their natural inclination, in the first place this will\nbe distributing provinces as it were among the atoms, and dividing them so\nthat some are borne down straight, and others obliquely; and in the next\nplace, this turbulent concourse of atoms, which is a blunder of Democritus\nalso, will never be able to produce this beautifully ornamented world\nwhich we see around us. Even this, too, is inconsistent with the\nprinciples of natural philosophy, to believe that there is such a thing as\na minimum; a thing which he indeed never would have fancied, if he had\nbeen willing to learn geometry from his friend Poly\u00e6nus,(24) instead of\nseeking to persuade him to give it up himself.\n\nThe sun appears to Democritus to be of vast size, as he is a man of\nlearning and of a profound knowledge of geometry. Epicurus perhaps thinks\nthat it is two feet across, for he thinks it of just that size which it\nappears to be, or perhaps a little larger or smaller. So what he changes\nhe spoils; what he accepts comes entirely from Democritus,\u2014the atoms, the\nvacuum, the appearances, which they call \u03b5\u1f34\u03b4\u03c9\u03bb\u03b1, to the inroads of which\nit is owing not only that we see, but also that we think; and all that\ninfiniteness, which they call \u1f00\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03c1\u03af\u03b1, is borrowed from Democritus; and\nalso the innumerable worlds which are produced and perish every day. And\nalthough I cannot possibly agree myself with all those fancies, still I\nshould not like to see Democritus, who is praised by every one else,\nblamed by this man who has followed him alone.\n\nVII. And as for the second part of philosophy, which belongs to\ninvestigating and discussing, and which is called \u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03b9\u03ba\u1f74, there your\nmaster as it seems to me is wholly unarmed and defenceless. He abolishes\ndefinitions; he lays down no rules for division and partition; he gives no\nmethod for drawing conclusions or establishing principles; he does not\npoint out how captious objections may be refuted, or ambiguous terms\nexplained. He places all our judgments of things in our senses; and if\nthey are once led to approve of anything false as if it were true, then he\nthinks that there is an end to all our power of distinguishing between\ntruth and falsehood.\n\nBut in the third part, which relates to life and manners, with respect to\nestablishing the end of our actions, he utters not one single generous or\nnoble sentiment. He lays down above all others the principle, that nature\nhas but two things as objects of adoption and aversion, namely, pleasure\nand pain: and he refers all our pursuits, and all our desires to avoid\nanything, to one of these two heads. And although this is the doctrine of\nAristippus, and is maintained in a better manner and with more freedom by\nthe Cyrenaics, still I think it a principle of such a kind that nothing\ncan appear more unworthy of a man. For, in my opinion, nature has produced\nand formed us for greater and higher purposes. It is possible, indeed,\nthat I may be mistaken; but my opinion is decided that that Torquatus, who\nfirst acquired that name, did not tear the chain from off his enemy for\nthe purpose of procuring any corporeal pleasure to himself; and that he\ndid not, in his third consulship, fight with the Latins at the foot of\nMount Vesuvius for the sake of any personal pleasure. And when he caused\nhis son to be executed, he appears to have even deprived himself of many\npleasures, by thus preferring the claims of his dignity and command to\nnature herself and the dictates of fatherly affection. What need I say\nmore? Take Titus Torquatus, him I mean who was consul with Cn\u00e6us Octavius;\nwhen he behaved with such severity towards that son whom he had allowed\nDecimus Silanus to adopt as his own, as to command him, when the\nambassadors of the Macedonians accused him of having taken bribes in his\nprovince while he was pr\u00e6tor, to plead his cause before his tribunal: and,\nwhen he had heard the cause on both sides, to pronounce that he had not in\nhis command behaved after the fashion of his forefathers, and to forbid\nhim ever to appear in his sight again; does he seem to you to have given a\nthought to his own pleasure?\n\nHowever, to say nothing of the dangers, and labours, and even of the pain\nwhich every virtuous man willingly encounters on behalf of his country, or\nof his family, to such a degree that he not only does not seek for, but\neven disregards all pleasures, and prefers even to endure any pain\nwhatever rather than to forsake any part of his duty; let us come to those\nthings which show this equally, but which appear of less importance. What\npleasure do you, O Torquatus, what pleasure does this Triarius derive from\nliterature, and history, and the knowledge of events, and the reading of\npoets, and his wonderful recollection of such numbers of verses? And do\nnot say to me, Why all these things are a pleasure to me. So, too, were\nthose noble actions to the Torquati. Epicurus never asserts this in this\nmanner; nor would you, O Triarius, nor any man who had any wisdom, or who\nhad ever imbibed those principles. And as to the question which is often\nasked, why there are so many Epicureans\u2014there are several reasons; but\nthis is the one which is most seductive to the multitude, namely, that\npeople imagine that what he asserts is that those things which are right\nand honourable do of themselves produce joy, that is, pleasure. Those\nexcellent men do not perceive that the whole system is overturned if that\nis the case. For if it were once granted, even although there were no\nreference whatever to the body, that these things were naturally and\nintrinsically pleasant; then virtue and knowledge would be intrinsically\ndesirable. And this is the last thing which he would choose to admit.\n\nThese principles, then, of Epicurus, I say, I do not approve of. As for\nother matters, I wish either that he himself had been a greater master of\nlearning, (for he is, as you yourself cannot help seeing, not sufficiently\naccomplished in those branches of knowledge which men possess who are\naccounted learned,) or at all events that he had not deterred others from\nthe study of literature: although I see that you yourself have not been at\nall deterred from such pursuits by him.\n\nVIII. And when I had said this, more for the purpose of exciting him than\nof speaking myself, Triarius, smiling gently, said,\u2014You, indeed, have\nalmost entirely expelled Epicurus from the number of philosophers. For\nwhat have you left him except the assertion that, whatever his language\nmight he, you understood what he meant? He has in natural philosophy said\nnothing but what is borrowed from others, and even then nothing which you\napproved of. If he has tried to amend anything he has made it worse. He\nhad no skill whatever in disputing. When he laid down the rule that\npleasure was the chief good, in the first place he was very short-sighted\nin making such an assertion; and secondly, even this very doctrine was a\nborrowed one; for Aristippus had said the same thing before, and better\ntoo. You added, at last, that he was also destitute of learning.\n\nIt is quite impossible, O Triarius, I replied, for a person not to state\nwhat he disapproves of in the theory of a man with whom he disagrees. For\nwhat could hinder me from being an Epicurean if I approved of what\nEpicurus says? especially when it would be an amusement to learn his\ndoctrines. Wherefore, a man is not to be blamed for reproving those who\ndiffer from one another; but evil speaking, contumely, ill-temper,\ncontention, and pertinacious violence in disputing, generally appear to me\nquite unworthy of philosophy.\n\nI quite agree with you, said Torquatus; for one cannot dispute at all\nwithout finding fault with your antagonist; but on the other hand you\ncannot dispute properly if you do so with ill-temper or with pertinacity.\nBut, if you have no objection, I have an answer to make to these\nassertions of yours. Do you suppose, said I, that I should have said what\nI have said if I did not desire to hear what you had to say too? Would you\nlike then, says he, that I should go through the whole theory of Epicurus,\nor that we should limit our present inquiry to pleasure by itself; which\nis what the whole of the present dispute relates to? We will do, said I,\nwhichever you please. That then, said he, shall be my present course. I\nwill explain one matter only, being the most important one. At another\ntime I will discuss the question of natural philosophy; and I will prove\nto you the theory of the divergence of the atoms, and of the magnitude of\nthe sun, and that Democritus committed many errors which were found fault\nwith and corrected by Epicurus. At present, I will confine myself to\npleasure; not that I am saying anything new, but still I will adduce\narguments which I feel sure that even you yourself will approve of.\nUndoubtedly, said I, I will not be obstinate; and I will willingly agree\nwith you if you will only prove your assertions to my satisfaction. I will\nprove them, said he, provided only that you are as impartial as you\nprofess yourself: but I would rather employ a connected discourse than\nkeep on asking or being asked questions. As you please, said I.\n\nOn this he began to speak;\u2014\n\nIX. First of all then, said he, I will proceed in the manner which is\nsanctioned by the founder of this school: I will lay down what that is\nwhich is the subject of our inquiry, and what its character is: not that I\nimagine that you do not know, but in order that my discourse may proceed\nin a systematic and orderly manner. We are inquiring, then, what is the\nend,\u2014what is the extreme point of good, which, in the opinion of all\nphilosophers, ought to be such that everything can be referred to it, but\nthat it itself can be referred to nothing. This Epicurus places in\npleasure, which he argues is the chief good, and that pain is the chief\nevil; and he proceeds to prove his assertion thus. He says that every\nanimal the moment that it is born seeks for pleasure, and rejoices in it\nas the chief good; and rejects pain as the chief evil, and wards it off\nfrom itself as far as it can; and that it acts in this manner, without\nhaving been corrupted by anything, under the promptings of nature herself,\nwho forms this uncorrupt and upright judgment. Therefore, he affirms that\nthere is no need of argument or of discussion as to why pleasure is to be\nsought for, and pain to be avoided. This he thinks a matter of sense, just\nas much as that fire is hot, snow white, honey sweet; none of which\npropositions he thinks require to be confirmed by laboriously sought\nreasons, but that it is sufficient merely to state them. For that there is\na difference between arguments and conclusions arrived at by\nratiocination, and ordinary observations and statements:\u2014by the first,\nsecret and obscure principles are explained; by the second, matters which\nare plain and easy are brought to decision. For since, if you take away\nsense from a man, there is nothing left to him, it follows of necessity\nthat what is contrary to nature, or what agrees with it, must be left to\nnature herself to decide. Now what does she perceive, or what does she\ndetermine on as her guide to seek or to avoid anything, except pleasure\nand pain? But there are some of our school who seek to carry out this\ndoctrine with more acuteness, and who will not allow that it is sufficient\nthat it should be decided by sense what is good and what is bad, but who\nassert that these points can be ascertained by intellect and reason also,\nand that pleasure is to be sought for on its own account, and that pain\nalso is to be avoided for the same reason.\n\nTherefore, they say that this notion is implanted in our minds naturally\nand instinctively, as it were; so that we _feel_ that the one is to be\nsought for, and the other to be avoided. Others, however, (and this is my\nown opinion too,) assert that, as many reasons are alleged by many\nphilosophers why pleasure ought not to be reckoned among goods, nor pain\namong evils, we ought not to rely too much on the goodness of our cause,\nbut that we should use arguments, and discuss the point with precision,\nand argue, by the help of carefully collected reasons, about pleasure and\nabout pain.\n\nX. But that you may come to an accurate perception of the source whence\nall this error originated of those people who attack pleasure and extol\npain, I will unfold the whole matter; and I will lay before you the very\nstatements which have been made by that discoverer of the truth, and\narchitect, as it were, of a happy life. For no one either despises, or\nhates, or avoids pleasure itself merely because it is pleasure, but\nbecause great pains overtake those men who do not understand how to pursue\npleasure in a reasonable manner. Nor is there any one who loves, or\npursues, or wishes to acquire pain because it is pain, but because\nsometimes such occasions arise that a man attains to some great pleasure\nthrough labour and pain. For, to descend to trifles, who of us ever\nundertakes any laborious exertion of body except in order to gain some\nadvantage by so doing? and who is there who could fairly blame a man who\nshould wish to be in that state of pleasure which no annoyance can\ninterrupt, or one who shuns that pain by which no subsequent pleasure is\nprocured? But we do accuse those men, and think them entirely worthy of\nthe greatest hatred, who, being made effeminate and corrupted by the\nallurements of present pleasure, are so blinded by passion that they do\nnot foresee what pains and annoyances they will hereafter be subject to;\nand who are equally guilty with those who, through weakness of mind, that\nis to say, from eagerness to avoid labour and pain, desert their duty.\n\nAnd the distinction between these things is quick and easy. For at a time\nwhen we are free, when the option of choice is in our own power, and when\nthere is nothing to prevent our being able to do whatever we choose, then\nevery pleasure may be enjoyed, and every pain repelled. But on particular\noccasions it will often happen, owing either to the obligations of duty or\nthe necessities of business, that pleasures must be declined and\nannoyances must not be shirked. Therefore the wise man holds to this\nprinciple of choice in those matters, that he rejects some pleasures, so\nas, by the rejection, to obtain others which are greater, and encounters\nsome pains, so as by that means to escape others which are more\nformidable.\n\nNow, as these are my sentiments, what reason can I have for fearing that I\nmay not be able to accommodate our Torquati to them\u2014men whose examples you\njust now quoted from memory, with a kind and friendly feeling towards us?\nHowever, you have not bribed me by praising my ancestors, nor made me less\nprompt in replying to you. But I should like to know from you how you\ninterpret their actions? Do you think that they attacked the enemy with\nsuch feelings, or that they were so severe to their children and to their\nown blood as to have no thought of their own advantage, or of what might\nbe useful to themselves? But even wild beasts do not do that, and do not\nrush about and cause confusion in such a way that we cannot understand\nwhat is the object of their motions. And do you think that such\nillustrious men performed such great actions without a reason? What their\nreason was I will examine presently; in the meantime I will lay down this\nrule,\u2014If there was any reason which instigated them to do those things\nwhich are undoubtedly splendid exploits, then virtue by herself was not\nthe sole cause of their conduct. One man tore a chain from off his enemy,\nand at the same time he defended himself from being slain; but he\nencountered great danger. Yes, but it was before the eyes of the whole\narmy. What did he get by that? Glory, and the affection of his countrymen,\nwhich are the surest bulwarks to enable a man to pass his life without\nfear. He put his son to death by the hand of the executioner. If he did so\nwithout any reason, then I should be sorry to be descended from so inhuman\nand merciless a man. But if his object was to establish military\ndiscipline and obedience to command, at the price of his own anguish, and\nat a time of a most formidable war to restrain his army by the fear of\npunishment, then he was providing for the safety of his fellow-citizens,\nwhich he was well aware embraced his own. And this principle is one of\nextensive application. For the very point respecting which your whole\nschool, and yourself most especially, who are such a diligent investigator\nof ancient instances, are in the habit of vaunting yourself and using\nhigh-flown language, namely, the mention of brave and illustrious men, and\nthe extolling of their actions, as proceeding not from any regard to\nadvantage, but from pure principles of honour and a love of glory, is\nentirely upset, when once that rule in the choice of things is established\nwhich I mentioned just now,\u2014namely, that pleasures are passed over for the\nsake of obtaining other greater pleasures, or that pains are encountered\nwith a view to escape greater pains.\n\nXI. But, however, for the present we have said enough about the\nillustrious and glorious actions of celebrated men; for there will be,\nhereafter, a very appropriate place for discussing the tendency of all the\nvirtues to procure pleasure.\n\nBut, at present, I will explain what pleasure itself is, and what its\ncharacter is; so as to do away with all the mistakes of ignorant people,\nand in order that it may be clearly understood how dignified, and\ntemperate, and virtuous that system is, which is often accounted\nvoluptuous, effeminate, and delicate. For we are not at present pursuing\nthat pleasure alone which moves nature itself by a certain sweetness, and\nwhich is perceived by the senses with a certain pleasurable feeling; but\nwe consider that the greatest of all pleasures which is felt when all pain\nis removed. For since, when we are free from pain, we rejoice in that very\nfreedom itself, and in the absence of all annoyance,\u2014but everything which\nis a cause of our rejoicing is pleasure, just as everything that gives us\noffence is pain,\u2014accordingly, the absence of all pain is rightly\ndenominated pleasure. For, as when hunger and thirst are driven away by\nmeat and drink, the very removal of the annoyance brings with it the\nattainment of pleasure, so, in every case, the removal of pain produces\nthe succession of pleasure. And therefore Epicurus would not admit that\nthere was any intermediate state between pleasure and pain; for he\ninsisted that that very state which seems to some people the intermediate\none, when a man is free from every sort of pain, is not only pleasure, but\nthe highest sort of pleasure. For whoever feels how he is affected must\ninevitably be either in a state of pleasure or in a state of pain. But\nEpicurus thinks that the highest pleasure consists in an absence of all\npains; so that pleasure may afterwards be varied, and may be of different\nkinds, but cannot be increased or amplified.\n\nAnd even at Athens, as I have heard my father say, when he was jesting in\na good-humoured and facetious way upon the Stoics, there is a statue in\nthe Ceramicus of Chrysippus, sitting down with his hand stretched out; and\nthis attitude of the hand intimates that he is amusing himself with this\nbrief question, \u201cDoes your hand, while in that condition in which it is at\npresent, want anything?\u201d\u2014Nothing at all. But if pleasure were a good,\nwould it want it? I suppose so. Pleasure, then, is not a good. And my\nfather used to say that even a statue would not say this if it could\nspeak. For the conclusion was drawn as against the Stoics with sufficient\nacuteness, but it did not concern Epicurus. For if that were the only\npleasure which tickled the senses, as it were, if I may say so, and which\noverflowed and penetrated them with a certain agreeable feeling, then even\na hand could not be content with freedom from pain without some pleasing\nmotion of pleasure. But if the highest pleasure is, as Epicurus asserts,\nto be free from pain, then, O Chrysippus, the first admission was\ncorrectly made to you, that the hand, when it was in that condition, was\nin want of nothing; but the second admission was not equally correct, that\nif pleasure were a good it would wish for it. For it would not wish for it\nfor this reason, inasmuch as whatever is free from pain is in pleasure.\n\nXII. But that pleasure is the boundary of all good things may be easily\nseen from this consideration. Let us imagine a person enjoying pleasures\ngreat, numerous, and perpetual, both of mind and body, with no pain either\ninterrupting him at present or impending over him; what condition can we\ncall superior to or more desirable than this? For it is inevitable that\nthere must be in a man who is in this condition a firmness of mind which\nfears neither death nor pain, because death is void of all sensation; and\npain, if it is of long duration, is a trifle, while if severe it is\nusually of brief duration; so that its brevity is a consolation if it is\nviolent, and its trifling nature if it is enduring. And when there is\nadded to these circumstances that such a man has no fear of the deity of\nthe gods, and does not suffer past pleasures to be entirely lost, but\ndelights himself with the continued recollection of them, what can be\nadded to this which will be any improvement to it?\n\nImagine, on the other hand, any one worn out with the greatest pains of\nmind and body which can possibly befal a man, without any hope being held\nout to him that they will hereafter be lighter, when, besides, he has no\npleasure whatever either present or expected; what can be spoken of or\nimagined more miserable than this? But if a life entirely filled with\npains is above all things to be avoided, then certainly that is the\ngreatest of evils to live in pain. And akin to this sentiment is the\nother, that it is the most extreme good to live with pleasure. For our\nmind has no other point where it can stop as at a boundary; and all fears\nand distresses are referable to pain: nor is there anything whatever\nbesides, which of its own intrinsic nature can make us anxious or grieve\nus. Moreover, the beginnings of desiring and avoiding, and indeed\naltogether of everything which we do, take their rise either in pleasure\nor pain. And as this is the case, it is plain that everything which is\nright and laudable has reference to this one object of living with\npleasure. And since that is the highest, or extreme, or greatest good,\nwhich the Greeks call \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, because it is referred to nothing else\nitself, but everything is referred to it, we must confess that the highest\ngood is to live agreeably.\n\nXIII. And those who place this in virtue alone, and, being caught by the\nsplendour of a name, do not understand what nature requires, will be\ndelivered from the greatest blunder imaginable if they will listen to\nEpicurus. For unless those excellent and beautiful virtues which your\nschool talks about produced pleasure, who would think them either\npraiseworthy or desirable? For as we esteem the skill of physicians not\nfor the sake of the art itself, but from our desire for good health,\u2014and\nas the skill of the pilot, who has the knowledge how to navigate a vessel\nwell, is praised with reference to its utility, and not to his ability,\u2014so\nwisdom, which should be considered the art of living, would not be sought\nafter if it effected nothing; but at present it is sought after because it\nis, as it were, the efficient cause of pleasure, which is a legitimate\nobject of desire and acquisition. And now you understand what pleasure I\nmean, so that what I say may not be brought into odium from my using an\nunpopular word. For as the chief annoyances to human life proceed from\nignorance of what things are good and what bad, and as by reason of that\nmistake men are often deprived of the greatest pleasures, and tortured by\nthe most bitter grief of mind, we have need to exercise wisdom, which, by\nremoving groundless alarms and vain desires, and by banishing the rashness\nof all erroneous opinions, offers herself to us as the surest guide to\npleasure. For it is wisdom alone which expels sorrow from our minds, and\nprevents our shuddering with fear: she is the instructress who enables us\nto live in tranquillity, by extinguishing in us all vehemence of desire.\nFor desires are insatiable, and ruin not only individuals but entire\nfamilies, and often overturn the whole state. From desires arise hatred,\ndissensions, quarrels, seditions, wars. Nor is it only out of doors that\nthese passions vent themselves, nor is it only against others that they\nrun with blind violence; but they are often shut up, as it were, in the\nmind, and throw that into confusion with their disagreements.\n\nAnd the consequence of this is, to make life thoroughly wretched; so that\nthe wise man is the only one who, having cut away all vanity and error,\nand removed it from him, can live contented within the boundaries of\nnature, without melancholy and without fear. For what diversion can be\neither more useful or more adapted for human life than that which Epicurus\nemployed? For he laid it down that there were three kinds of desires; the\nfirst, such as were natural and necessary; the second, such as were\nnatural but not necessary; the third, such as were neither natural nor\nnecessary. And these are all such, that those which are necessary are\nsatisfied without much trouble or expense: even those which are natural\nand not necessary, do not require a great deal, because nature itself\nmakes the riches, which are sufficient to content it, easy of acquisition\nand of limited quantity: but as for vain desires, it is impossible to find\nany limit to, or any moderation in them.\n\nXIV. But if we see that the whole life of man is thrown into disorder by\nerror and ignorance; and that wisdom is the only thing which can relieve\nus from the sway of the passions and the fear of danger, and which can\nteach us to bear the injuries of fortune itself with moderation, and which\nshows us all the ways which lead to tranquillity and peace; what reason is\nthere that we should hesitate to say that wisdom is to be sought for the\nsake of pleasure, and that folly is to be avoided on account of its\nannoyances? And on the same principle we shall say that even temperance is\nnot to be sought for its own sake, but because it brings peace to the\nmind, and soothes and tranquillizes them by what I may call a kind of\nconcord. For temperance is that which warns us to follow reason in\ndesiring or avoiding anything. Nor is it sufficient to decide what ought\nto be done, and what ought not; but we must adhere to what has been\ndecided. But many men, because they are enfeebled and subdued the moment\npleasure comes in sight, and so are unable to keep and adhere to the\ndetermination they have formed, give themselves up to be bound hand and\nfoot by their lusts, and do not foresee what will happen to them; and in\nthat way, on account of some pleasure which is trivial and unnecessary,\nand which might be procured in some other manner, and which they could\ndispense with without annoyance, incur terrible diseases, and injuries,\nand disgrace, and are often even involved in the penalties of the legal\ntribunals of their country.\n\nBut these men who wish to enjoy pleasure in such a way that no grief shall\never overtake them in consequence, and who retain their judgment so as\nnever to be overcome by pleasure as to do what they feel ought not to be\ndone; these men, I say, obtain the greatest pleasure by passing pleasure\nby. They often even endure pain, in order to avoid encountering greater\npain hereafter by their shunning it at present. From which consideration\nit is perceived that intemperance is not to be avoided for its own sake;\nand that temperance is to be sought for, not because it avoids pleasures,\nbut because it attains to greater ones.\n\nXV. The same principle will be found to hold good with respect to courage.\nFor the discharge of labours and the endurance of pain are neither of them\nintrinsically tempting; nor is patience, nor diligence, nor watchfulness,\nnor industry which is so much extolled, nor even courage itself: but we\ncultivate these habits in order that we may live without care and fear,\nand may be able, as far as is in our power, to release our minds and\nbodies from annoyance. For as the whole condition of tranquil life is\nthrown into confusion by the fear of death, and as it is a miserable thing\nto yield to pain and to bear it with a humble and imbecile mind; and as on\naccount of that weakness of mind many men have ruined their parents, many\nmen their friends, some their country, and very many indeed have utterly\nundone themselves; so a vigorous and lofty mind is free from all care and\npain, since it despises death, which only places those who encounter it in\nthe same condition as that in which they were before they were born; and\nit is so prepared for pain that it recollects that the very greatest are\nterminated by death, and that slight pains have many intervals of rest,\nand that we can master moderate ones, so as to bear them if they are\ntolerable, and if not, we can depart with equanimity out of life, just as\nout of a theatre, when it no longer pleases us. By all which\nconsiderations it is understood that cowardice and idleness are not\nblamed, and that courage and patience are not praised, for their own\nsakes; but that the one line of conduct is rejected as the parent of pain,\nand the other desired as the author of pleasure.\n\nXVI. Justice remains to be mentioned, that I may not omit any virtue\nwhatever; but nearly the same things may be said respecting that. For, as\nI have already shown that wisdom, temperance, and fortitude are connected\nwith pleasure in such a way that they cannot possibly be separated or\ndivided from it, so also we must consider that it is the case with\njustice. Which not only never injures any one; but on the contrary always\nnourishes something which tranquillizes the mind, partly by its own power\nand nature, and partly by the hopes that nothing will be wanting of those\nthings which a nature not depraved may fairly derive.\n\nSince rashness and lust and idleness always torture the mind, always make\nit anxious, and are of a turbulent character, so too, wherever injustice\nsettles in any man\u2019s mind, it is turbulent from the mere fact of its\nexistence and presence there; and if it forms any plan, although it\nexecutes it ever so secretly, still it never believes that what has been\ndone will be concealed for ever. For generally, when wicked men do\nanything, first of all suspicion overtakes their actions; then the common\nconversation and report of men; then the prosecutor and the judge; and\nmany even, as was the case when you were consul, have given information\nagainst themselves. But if any men appear to themselves to be sufficiently\nfenced round and protected from the consciousness of men, still they dread\nthe knowledge of the Gods, and think that those very anxieties by which\ntheir minds are eaten up night and day, are inflicted upon them by the\nimmortal Gods for the sake of punishment. And how is it possible that\nwicked actions can ever have as much influence towards alleviating the\nannoyances of life, as they must have towards increasing them from the\nconsciousness of our actions, and also from the punishments inflicted by\nthe laws and the hatred of the citizens? And yet, in some people, there is\nno moderation in their passion for money and for honour and for command,\nor in their lusts and greediness and other desires, which acquisitions,\nhowever wickedly made, do not at all diminish, but rather inflame, so that\nit seems we ought rather to restrain such men than to think that we can\nteach them better. Therefore sound wisdom invites sensible men to justice,\nequity, and good faith. And unjust actions are not advantageous even to\nthat man who has no abilities or resources; inasmuch as he cannot easily\ndo what he endeavours to do, nor obtain his objects if he does succeed in\nhis endeavours. And the gifts of fortune and of genius are better suited\nto liberality; and those who practise this virtue gain themselves\ngoodwill, and affection, which is the most powerful of all things to\nenable a man to live with tranquillity; especially when he has absolutely\nno motive at all for doing wrong.\n\nFor those desires which proceed from nature are easily satisfied without\nany injustice; but those which are vain ought not to be complied with. For\nthey desire nothing which is really desirable; and there is more\ndisadvantage in the mere fact of injustice than there is advantage in what\nis acquired by the injustice. Therefore a person would not be right who\nshould pronounce even justice intrinsically desirable for its own sake;\nbut because it brings the greatest amount of what is agreeable. For to be\nloved and to be dear to others is agreeable because it makes life safer,\nand pleasure more abundant. Therefore we think dishonesty should be\navoided, not only on account of those disadvantages which befal the\nwicked, but even much more because it never permits the man in whose mind\nit abides to breathe freely, and never lets him rest.\n\nBut if the praise of those identical virtues in which the discourse of all\nother philosophers so especially exults, cannot find any end unless it be\ndirected towards pleasure, and if pleasure be the only thing which calls\nand allures us to itself by its own nature; then it cannot be doubtful\nthat that is the highest and greatest of all goods, and that to live\nhappily is nothing else except to live with pleasure.\n\nXVII. And I will now explain in a few words the things which are\ninseparably connected with this sure and solid opinion.\n\nThere is no mistake with respect to the ends themselves of good and evil,\nthat is to say, with respect to pleasure and pain; but men err in these\npoints when they do not know what they are caused by. But we admit that\nthe pleasures and pains of the mind are caused by the pleasures and pains\nof the body. Therefore I grant what you were saying just now, that if any\nphilosophers of our school think differently (and I see that many men do\nso, but they are ignorant people) they must be convicted of error. But\nalthough pleasure of mind brings us joy, and pain causes us grief, it is\nstill true that each of these feelings originates in the body, and is\nreferred to the body; and it does not follow on that account that both the\npleasures and pains of the mind are not much more important than those of\nthe body. For with the body we are unable to feel anything which is not\nactually existent and present; but with our mind we feel things past and\nthings to come. For although when we are suffering bodily pain, we are\nequally in pain in our minds, still a very great addition may be made to\nthat if we believe that any endless and boundless evil is impending over\nus. And we may transfer this assertion to pleasure, so that that will be\ngreater if we have no such fear.\n\nThis now is entirely evident, that the very greatest pleasure or annoyance\nof the mind contributes more to making life happy or miserable than either\nof these feelings can do if it is in the body for an equal length of time.\nBut we do not agree that, if pleasure be taken away, grief follows\nimmediately, unless by chance it happens that pain has succeeded and taken\nthe place of pleasure; but, on the other hand, we affirm that men do\nrejoice at getting rid of pain even if no pleasure which can affect the\nsenses succeeds. And from this it may be understood how great a pleasure\nit is not to be in pain. But as we are roused by those good things which\nwe are in expectation of, so we rejoice at those which we recollect. But\nfoolish men are tortured by the recollection of past evils; wise men are\ndelighted by the memory of past good things, which are thus renewed by the\nagreeable recollection. But there is a feeling implanted in us by which we\nbury adversity as it were in a perpetual oblivion, but dwell with pleasure\nand delight on the recollection of good fortune. But when with eager and\nattentive minds we dwell on what is past, the consequence is, that\nmelancholy ensues, if the past has been unprosperous; but joy, if it has\nbeen fortunate.\n\nXVIII. Oh what a splendid, and manifest, and simple, and plain way of\nliving well! For as certainly nothing could be better for man than to be\nfree from all pain and annoyance, and to enjoy the greatest pleasures of\nboth mind and body, do you not see how nothing is omitted which can aid\nlife, so as to enable men more easily to arrive at that chief good which\nis their object! Epicurus cries out\u2014the very man whom you pronounce to be\ntoo devoted to pleasure\u2014that man cannot live agreeably, unless he lives\nhonourably, justly, and wisely; and that, if he lives wisely, honourably,\nand justly, it is impossible that he should not live agreeably. For a city\nin sedition cannot be happy, nor can a house in which the masters are\nquarrelling. So that a mind which disagrees and quarrels with itself,\ncannot taste any portion of clear and unrestrained pleasure. And a man who\nis always giving in to pursuits and plans which are inconsistent with and\ncontrary to one another, can never know any quiet or tranquillity.\n\nBut if the pleasure of life is hindered by the graver diseases of the\nbody, how much more must it be so by those of the mind? But the diseases\nof the mind are boundless and vain desires of riches, or glory, or\ndomination, or even of lustful pleasures. Besides these there are\nmelancholy, annoyance, sorrow, which eat up and destroy with anxiety the\nminds of those men who do not understand that the mind ought not to grieve\nabout anything which is unconnected with some present or future pain of\nbody. Nor is there any fool who does not suffer under some one of these\ndiseases. Therefore there is no fool who is not miserable. Besides these\nthings there is death, which is always hanging over us as his rock is over\nTantalus; and superstition, a feeling which prevents any one who is imbued\nwith it from ever enjoying tranquillity. Besides, such men as they do not\nrecollect their past good fortune, do not enjoy what is present, but do\nnothing but expect what is to come; and as that cannot be certain, they\nwear themselves out with grief and apprehension, and are tormented most\nespecially when they find out, after it is too late, that they have\ndevoted themselves to the pursuit of money, or authority, or power, or\nglory, to no purpose. For they have acquired no pleasures, by the hope of\nenjoying which it was that they were inflamed to undertake so many great\nlabours. There are others, of little and narrow minds, either always\ndespairing of everything, or else malcontent, envious, ill-tempered,\nchurlish, calumnious, and morose; others devoted to amatory pleasures,\nothers petulant, others audacious, wanton, intemperate, or idle, never\ncontinuing in the same opinion; on which account there is never any\ninterruption to the annoyances to which their life is exposed.\n\nTherefore, there is no fool who is happy, and no wise man who is not. And\nwe put this much more forcibly and truly than the Stoics: for they assert\nthat there is no good whatever, but some imaginary shadow which they call\n\u03c4\u1f78 \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u1f78\u03bd, a name showy rather than substantial; and they insist upon it,\nthat virtue relying on this principle of honour stands in need of no\npleasure, and is content with its own resources as adequate to secure a\nhappy life.\n\nXIX. However, these assertions may be to a certain extent made not only\nwithout our objecting to them, but even with our concurrence and\nagreement. For in this way the wise man is represented by Epicurus as\nalways happy. He has limited desires; he disregards death; he has a true\nopinion concerning the immortal Gods without any fear; he does not\nhesitate, if it is better for him, to depart from life. Being prepared in\nthis manner, and armed with these principles, he is always in the\nenjoyment of pleasure; nor is there any period when he does not feel more\npleasure than pain. For he remembers the past with gratitude, and he\nenjoys the present so as to notice how important and how delightful the\njoys which it supplies are; nor does he depend on future good, but he\nwaits for that and enjoys the present; and is as far removed as possible\nfrom those vices which I have enumerated; and when he compares the life of\nfools to his own he feels great pleasure. And pain, if any does attack\nhim, has never such power that the wise man has not more to rejoice at\nthan to be grieved at.\n\nBut Epicurus does admirably in saying that fortune has but little power\nover the wise man, and that the greatest and most important events of such\na man\u2019s life are managed by his own wisdom and prudence; and that greater\npleasure cannot be derived from an eternity of life than such a man enjoys\nfrom this life which we see to be limited.\n\nBut in your dialectics he thought that there was no power which could\ncontribute either to enable men to live better, or argue more\nconveniently. To natural philosophy he attributed a great deal of\nimportance. For by the one science it is only the meaning of words and the\ncharacter of a speech, and the way in which arguments follow from or are\ninconsistent with one another, that can be seen; but if the nature of all\nthings is known, we are by that knowledge relieved from superstition,\nreleased from the fear of death, exempted from being perplexed by our\nignorance of things, from which ignorance horrible fears often arise.\nLastly, we shall be improved in our morals when we have learnt what nature\nrequires. Moreover, if we have an accurate knowledge of things, preserving\nthat rule which has fallen from heaven as it were for the knowledge of all\nthings, by which all our judgments of things are to be regulated, we shall\nnever abandon our opinions because of being overcome by any one\u2019s\neloquence.\n\nFor unless the nature of things is thoroughly known, we shall have no\nmeans by which we can defend the judgments formed by our senses. Moreover,\nwhatever we discern by our intellect, all arises from the senses. And if\nour senses are all correct, as the theory of Epicurus affirms, then\nsomething may be discerned and understood accurately; but as to those men\nwho deny the power of the senses, and say that nothing can be known by\nthem, those very men, if the senses are discarded, will be unable to\nexplain that very point which they are arguing about. Besides, if all\nknowledge and science is put out of the question, then there is an end\nalso of all settled principles of living and of doing anything.\n\nThus, by means of natural philosophy, courage is desired to withstand the\nfear of death, and constancy to put aside the claims engendered by\nsuperstition; and by removing ignorance of all secret things, tranquillity\nof mind is produced; and by explaining the nature of desires and their\ndifferent kinds, we get moderation: and (as I just now explained) by means\nof this rule of knowledge, and of the judgment which is established and\ncorrected by it, the power of distinguishing truth from falsehood is put\ninto man\u2019s hands.\n\nXX. There remains a topic necessary above all others to this discussion,\nthat of friendship, namely: which you, if pleasure is the chief good,\naffirm to have no existence at all. Concerning which Epicurus speaks thus:\n\"That of all the things which wisdom has collected to enable man to live\nhappily, nothing is more important, more influential, or more delightful\nthan friendship.\" Nor did he prove this assertion by words only, but still\nmore by his life, and conduct, and actions. And how important a thing it\nis, the fables of the ancients abundantly intimate, in which, many and\nvaried as they are, and traced back to the remotest antiquity, scarcely\nthree pairs of friends are found, even if you begin as far back as\nTheseus, and come down to Orestes. But in one single house, and that a\nsmall one, what great crowds of friends did Epicurus collect, and how\nstrong was the bond of affection that held them together! And this is the\ncase even now among the Epicureans. However, let us return to our subject:\nit is not necessary for us to be discussing men.\n\nI see, then, that the philosophers of our school have treated the question\nof friendship in three ways. Some, as they denied that those pleasures\nwhich concerned our friends were to be sought with as much eagerness for\ntheir own sake, as we display in seeking our own, (by pressing which topic\nsome people think that the stability of friendship is endangered,)\nmaintain that doctrine resolutely, and, as I think, easily explain it.\nFor, as in the case of the virtues which I have already mentioned, so too\nthey deny that friendship can ever be separated from pleasure. For, as a\nlife which is solitary and destitute of friends is full of treachery and\nalarm, reason itself warns us to form friendships. And when such are\nformed, then our minds are strengthened, and cannot be drawn away from the\nhope of attaining pleasure. And as hatred, envy, and contempt are all\nopposed to pleasures, so friendships are not only the most faithful\nfavourers, but also are the efficient causes of pleasures to one\u2019s friends\nas well as to oneself; and men not only enjoy those pleasures at the\nmoment, but are also roused by hopes of subsequent and future time. And as\nwe cannot possibly maintain a lasting and continued happiness of life\nwithout friendship, nor maintain friendship itself unless we love our\nfriends and ourselves equally, therefore this very effect is produced in\nfriendship, and friendship is combined with pleasure.\n\nFor we rejoice in the joy of our friends as much as we do in our own, and\nwe are equally grieved at their sorrows. Wherefore the wise man will feel\ntowards his friend as he does towards himself, and whatever labour he\nwould encounter with a view to his own pleasure, he will encounter also\nfor the sake of that of his friend. And all that has been said of the\nvirtues as to the way in which they are invariably combined with pleasure,\nshould also be said of friendship. For admirably does Epicurus say, in\nalmost these exact words: \u201cThe same science has strengthened the mind so\nthat it should not fear any eternal or long lasting evil, inasmuch as in\nthis very period of human life, it has clearly seen that the surest\nbulwark against evil is that of friendship.\u201d\n\nThere are, however, some Epicureans who are rather intimidated by the\nreproaches of your school, but still men of sufficient acuteness, and they\nare afraid lest, if we think that friendship is only to be sought after\nwith a view to our own pleasure, all friendships should, as it were,\nappear to be crippled. Therefore they admit that the first meetings, and\nunions, and desires to establish intimacy, do arise from a desire of\npleasure; but, they say, that when progressive habit has engendered\nfamiliarity, then such great affection is ripened, that friends are loved\nby one another for their own sake, even without any idea of advantage\nintermingling with such love. In truth, if we are in the habit of feeling\naffection for places, and temples, and cities, and gymnasia, and the\nCampus Martius, and for dogs, and horses, and sports, in consequence of\nour habit of exercising ourselves, and hunting, and so on, how much more\neasily and reasonably may such a feeling be produced in us by our intimacy\nwith men!\n\nBut some people say that there is a sort of agreement entered into by wise\nmen not to love their friends less than themselves; which we both imagine\nto be possible, and indeed see to be often the case; and it is evident\nthat nothing can be found having any influence on living agreeably, which\nis better suited to it than such a union. From all which considerations it\nmay be inferred, not only that the principle of friendship is not hindered\nby our placing the chief good in pleasure, but that without such a\nprinciple it is quite impossible that any friendship should be\nestablished.\n\nXXI. Wherefore, if the things which I have been saying are clearer and\nplainer than the sun itself; if all that I have said is derived from the\nfountain of nature; if the whole of my discourse forces assent to itself\nby its accordance with the senses, that is to say, with the most\nincorruptible and honest of all witnesses; if infant children, and even\nbrute beasts, declare almost in words, under the teaching and guidance of\nnature, that nothing is prosperous but pleasure, nothing hateful but\npain\u2014a matter as to which their decision is neither erroneous nor\ncorrupt\u2014ought we not to feel the greatest gratitude to that man who,\nhaving heard this voice of nature, as I may call it, has embraced it with\nsuch firmness and steadiness, that he has led all sensible men into the\npath of a peaceful, tranquil, and happy life? And as for his appearing to\nyou to be a man of but little learning, the reason of that is, that he\nthought no learning deserving of the name except such as assisted in the\nattainment of a happy life. Was he a man to waste his time in reading\npoets, as Triarius and I do at your instigation? men in whose works there\nis no solid utility, but only a childish sort of amusement; or to devote\nhimself, like Plato, to music, geometry, arithmetic, and astronomy?\nstudies which, starting from erroneous principles, cannot possibly be\ntrue; and which, if they were true, would constitute nothing to our living\nmore agreeably, that is to say, better. Should he, then, pursue such\noccupations as those, and abandon the task of laying down principles of\nliving, laborious, but, at the same time, useful as they are?\n\nEpicurus, then, was not destitute of learning; but those persons are\nignorant who think that those studies which it is discreditable for boys\nnot to have learnt, are to be continued till old age.\n\nAnd when he had spoken thus,\u2014I have now, said he, explained my opinions,\nand have done so with the design of learning your judgment of them. But\nthe opportunity of doing so, as I wished, has never been offered me before\nto-day.\n\n\n\n\nSecond Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n\n\nI. On this, when both of them fixed their eyes on me, and showed that they\nwere ready to listen to me:\u2014In the first place, said I, I intreat you not\nto fancy that I, like a professed philosopher, am going to explain to you\nthe doctrines of some particular school; a course which I have never much\napproved of when adopted by philosophers themselves. For when did\nSocrates, who may fairly be called the parent of philosophy, ever do\nanything of the sort? That custom was patronized by those who at that time\nwere called Sophists, of which number Georgias of Leontium was the first\nwho ventured in an assembly to demand a question,\u2014that is to say, to\ndesire any one in the company to say what he wished to hear discussed. It\nwas a bold proceeding; I should call it an impudent one, if this fashion\nhad not subsequently been borrowed by our own philosophers. But we see\nthat he whom I have just mentioned, and all the other Sophists, (as may be\ngathered from Plato,) were all turned into ridicule by Socrates; for he,\nby questioning and interrogating them, was in the habit of eliciting the\nopinions of those with whom he was arguing, and then, if he thought it\nnecessary, of replying to the answers which they had given him. And as\nthat custom had not been preserved by those who came after him, Arcesilaus\nre-introduced it, and established the custom, that those who wished to\nbecome his pupils were not to ask him questions, but themselves to state\ntheir opinions; and then, when they had stated them, he replied to what\nthey had advanced; but those who came to him for instruction defended\ntheir own opinions as well as they could.\n\nBut with all the rest of the philosophers the man who asks the question\nsays no more; and this practice prevails in the Academy to this day. For\nwhen he who wishes to receive instruction has spoken thus, \u201cPleasure\nappears to me to be the chief good,\u201d they argue against this proposition\nin an uninterrupted discourse; so that it may be easily understood that\nthey who say that they entertain such and such an opinion, do not of\nnecessity really entertain it, but wish to hear the arguments which may be\nbrought against it. We follow a more convenient method, for not only has\nTorquatus explained what his opinions are, but also why he entertains\nthem: but I myself think, although I was exceedingly delighted with his\nuninterrupted discourse, that still, when you stop at each point that\narises, and come to an understanding what each party grants, and what he\ndenies, you draw the conclusion you desire from what is admitted with more\nconvenience, and come to an end of the discussion more readily. For when a\ndiscourse is borne on uninterruptedly, like a torrent, although it hurries\nalong in its course many things of every kind, you still can take hold of\nnothing, and put your hand on nothing, and can find no means of\nrestraining that rapid discourse.\n\nII. But every discourse which is concerned in the investigation of any\nmatter, and which proceeds on any system and principle, ought first to\nestablish the rule (as is done in lawsuits, where one proceeds according\nto set formulas), in order that it may be agreed between the parties to\nthe discussion, what the subject of the discussion really is. This rule\nwas approved by Epicurus, as it was laid down by Plato in his \u201cPh\u00e6drus,\u201d\nand he considered that it ought to be adopted in every controversy. But he\ndid not perceive what was the necessary consequence of it, for he asserts\nthat the subject ought not to be defined; but if this be not done, it is\nsometimes impossible that the disputants should agree what the matter is\nthat is the subject of discussion, as in this very case which we are\ndiscussing now, for we are inquiring into the End of Good. How can we know\nwhat the character of this is, if, when we have used the expression the\nEnd of Good, we do not compare with one another our ideas of what is meant\nby the End, and of what the Good itself is?\n\nAnd this laying open of things covered up, as it were, when it is once\nexplained what each thing is, is the definition of it; which you sometimes\nused without being aware of it; for you defined this very thing, whether\nit is to be called the End, or the extremity, or the limit, to be that to\nwhich everything which was done rightly was referred, and which was itself\nnever referred to anything. So far was very well said; and, perhaps, if it\nhad been necessary, you would also have defined the Good itself, and told\nus what that was; making it to be that which is desirable by nature, or\nthat which is profitable, or that which is useful, or that which is\npleasant: and now, since you have no general objections to giving\ndefinitions, and do it when you please, if it is not too much trouble, I\nshould be glad if you would define what is pleasure, for that is what all\nthis discussion relates to.\n\nAs if, said he, there were any one who is ignorant what pleasure is, or\nwho is in need of any definition to enable him to understand it better.\n\nI should say, I replied, that I myself am such a man, if I did not seem to\nmyself to have a thorough acquaintance with, and an accurate idea and\nnotion of, pleasure firmly implanted in my mind. But, at present, I say\nthat Epicurus himself does not know, and that he is greatly in error on\nthis subject; and that he who mentions the subject so often ought to\nexplain carefully what the meaning of the words he uses is, but that he\nsometimes does not understand what the meaning of this word pleasure is,\nthat is to say, what the idea is which is contained under this word.\n\nIII. Then he laughed, and said,\u2014This is a capital idea, indeed, that he\nwho says that pleasure is the end of all things which are to be desired,\nthe very extreme point and limit of Good, should be ignorant of what it\nis, and of what is its character. But, I replied, either Epicurus is\nignorant of what pleasure is, or else all the rest of the world are. How\nso? said he.\n\nBecause all men feel that this is pleasure which moves the senses when\nthey receive it, and which has a certain agreeableness pervading it\nthroughout. What then, said he, is Epicurus ignorant of that kind of\npleasure? Not always, I replied; for sometimes he is even too well\nacquainted with it, inasmuch as he declares that he is unable even to\nunderstand where it is, or what any good is, except that which is enjoyed\nby the instrumentality of meat or drink, or the pleasure of the ears, or\nsensual enjoyment: is not this what he says? As if, said he, I were\nashamed of these things, or as if I were unable to explain in what sense\nthese things are said. I do not doubt, I replied, that you can do so\neasily; nor is there any reason why you need be ashamed of arguing with a\nwise man, who is the only man, as far as I know, who has ever ventured to\nprofess himself a wise man. For they do not think that Metrodorus himself\nprofessed this, but only that, when he was called wise by Epicurus, he was\nunwilling to reject such an expression of his goodwill. But the Seven had\nthis name given to them, not by themselves, but by the universal suffrage\nof all nations. However, in this place, I will assume that Epicurus, by\nthese expressions, certainly meant to intimate the same kind of pleasure\nthat the rest do; for all men call that pleasing motion by which the\nsenses are rendered cheerful, \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74 in Greek, and _voluptas_ in Latin.\n\nWhat is it, then, that you ask? I will tell you, said I, and that for the\nsake of learning rather than of finding fault with either you or Epicurus.\nI too, said he, should be more desirous to learn of you, if you can impart\nanything worth learning, than to find fault with you.\n\nWell, then, said I, you are aware of what Hieronymus(25) of Rhodes says is\nthe chief good, to which he thinks that everything ought to be referred? I\nknow, said he, that he thinks that the great end is freedom from pain.\nWell, what are his sentiments respecting pleasure? He affirms, he replied,\nthat it is not to be sought for its own sake; for he thinks that rejoicing\nis one thing, and being free from pain another. And indeed, continued he,\nhe is in this point greatly mistaken, for, as I proved a little while ago,\nthe end of increasing pleasure is the removal of all pain. I will examine,\nsaid I, presently, what the meaning of the expression, freedom from pain,\nis; but unless you are very obstinate, you must admit that pleasure is a\nperfectly distinct thing from mere freedom from pain. You will, however,\nsaid he, find that I am obstinate in this; for nothing can be more real\nthan the identity between the two. Is there, now, said I, any pleasure\nfelt by a thirsty man in drinking? Who can deny it? said he. Is it, asked\nI, the same pleasure that he feels after his thirst is extinguished? It\nis, replied he, another kind of pleasure; for the state of extinguished\nthirst has in it a certain stability of pleasure, but the pleasure of\nextinguishing it is pleasure in motion. Why, then, said I, do you call\nthings so unlike one another by the same name? Do not you recollect, he\nrejoined, what I said just now,\u2014that when all pain is banished, pleasure\nis varied, not extinguished? I recollect, said I; but you spoke in\nadmirable Latin, indeed, but yet not very intelligibly; for _varietas_ is\na Latin word, and properly applicable to a difference of colour, but it is\napplied metaphorically to many differences: we apply the adjective,\n_varias_, to poems, orations, manners, and changes of fortune; it is\noccasionally predicated also of pleasure, when it is derived from many\nthings unlike one another, which cause pleasures which are similarly\nunlike. Now, if that is the variety you mean, I should understand you, as,\nin fact, I do understand you, without your saying so: but still, I do not\nsee clearly what that variety is, because you say, that when we are free\nfrom pain we are then in the enjoyment of the greatest pleasure; but when\nwe are eating those things which cause a pleasing motion to the senses,\nthen there is a pleasure in the emotion which causes a variety in the\npleasure; but still, that that pleasure which arises from the freedom from\npain is not increased;\u2014and why you call that pleasure I do not know.\n\nIV. Is it possible, said he, for anything to be more delightful than\nfreedom from pain? Well, said I, but grant that nothing is preferable to\nthat, (for that is not the point which I am inquiring about at present,)\ndoes it follow on that account, that pleasure is identical with what I may\ncall painlessness? Undoubtedly it is identical with it, said he; and that\npainlessness is the greatest of pleasures which no other can possibly\nexceed. Why, then, said I, do you hesitate, after you have defined the\nchief good in this manner, to uphold, and defend, and maintain the\nproposition, that the whole of pleasure consists in freedom from pain? For\nwhat necessity for your introducing pleasure among the council of the\nvirtues, any more than for bringing in a courtezan to an assembly of\nmatrons? The very name of pleasure is odious, infamous, and a just object\nof suspicion: therefore, you are all in the constant habit of saying that\nwe do not understand what Epicurus means when he speaks of pleasure. And\nwhenever such an assertion is made to me,\u2014and I hear it advanced pretty\noften,\u2014although I am usually a very peaceful arguer, still I do on such\noccasions get a little angry. Am I to be told that I do not know what that\nis which the Greeks call \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74, and the Latins _voluptas_? Which language\nis it, then, that I do not understand? Then, too, how comes it about that\nI do not understand, though every one else does, who chooses to call\nhimself an Epicurean? when the disciples of your school argue most\nexcellently, that there is no need whatever for a man, who wishes to\nbecome a philosopher, to be acquainted with literature. Therefore, just as\nour ancestors tore Cincinnatus away from his plough to make him Dictator,\nin like manner you collect from among the Greeks all those men, who may in\ntruth be respectable men enough, but who are certainly not over-learned.\n\nDo they then understand what Epicurus means, and do I not understand it?\nHowever, that you may know that I do understand, first of all I tell you\nthat _voluptas_ is the same thing that he calls \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74. And, indeed, we\noften have to seek for a Latin word equivalent to, and exactly equipollent\nto a Greek one; but here we had nothing to seek for: for no word can be\nfound which will more exactly express in Latin what \u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74 does in Greek,\nthan _voluptas_. Now every man in the world who understands Latin,\ncomprehends under this word two things,\u2014joy in the mind, and an agreeable\nemotion of pleasantness in the body. For when the man in Trabea(26) calls\nan excessive pleasure of the mind joy, (_l\u00e6titia_,) he says much the same\nas the other character in C\u00e6cilius\u2019s play, who says that he is joyful with\nevery sort of joy.\n\nHowever, there is this difference, that pleasure is also spoken of as\naffecting the mind; which is wrong, as the Stoics think, who define it\nthus: \u201cAn elation of the mind without reason, when the mind has an idea\nthat it is enjoying some great good.\u201d But the words _l\u00e6titia_ (gladness),\nand _gaudium_ (joy), do not properly apply to the body. But the word\n_voluptas_ (pleasure) is applied to the body by the usage of all people\nwho speak Latin, whenever that pleasantness is felt which moves any one of\nthe senses. Now transfer this pleasantness, if you please, to the mind;\nfor the verb _juvo_ (to please) is applied both to body and mind, and the\nword _jucundus_ is derived from it; provided you understand that between\nthe man who says,\n\n\n    I am transported with gladness now\n    That I am scarce myself....\n\n\nand him who says,\n\n\n    Now then at length my mind\u2019s on fire, ...\n\n\none of whom is beside himself with joy, and the other is being tormented\nwith anguish, there is this intermediate person, whose language is,\n\n\n    Although this our acquaintance is so new,\n\n\nwho feels neither gladness nor anguish. And, in the same manner, between\nthe man who is in the enjoyment of the pleasures of the body, which he has\nbeen wishing for, and him who is being tormented with extreme anguish,\nthere is a third man, who is free alike from pleasure and from pain.\n\nV. Do I not, then, seem to you sufficiently to understand the meaning of\nwords, or must I at this time of life be taught how to speak Greek, and\neven Latin? And yet I would have you consider, whether if I, who, as I\nthink, understand Greek very fairly, do still not understand what Epicurus\nmeans, it it may not be owing to some fault of his for speaking so as not\nto be intelligible. And this sometimes happens in two ways, without any\nblame; either if you do so on purpose, as Heraclitus did, who got the\nsurname of \u03c3\u03ba\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f78\u03c2,(27) because he spoke with too much obscurity about\nnatural philosophy; or when the obscurity of the subject itself, not of\nthe language, prevents what is said from being clearly understood, as is\nthe case in the Tim\u00e6us of Plato. But Epicurus, as I imagine, is both\nwilling, if it is in his power, to speak intelligibly, and is also\nspeaking, not of an obscure subject like the natural philosophers, nor of\none depending on precise rules, as the mathematicians are, but he is\ndiscussing a plain and simple matter, which is a subject of common\nconversation among the common people. Although you do not deny that we\nunderstand the usual meaning of the word _voluptas_, but only what he\nmeans by it: from which it follows, not that we do not understand what is\nthe meaning of that word, but that he follows his own fashion, and\nneglects our usual one; for if he means the same thing that Hieronymus\ndoes, who thinks that the chief good is to live without any annoyance, why\ndoes he prefer using the term \u201cpleasure\u201d rather than freedom from pain, as\nHieronymus does, who is quite aware of the force of the words which he\nemploys? But, if he thinks that he ought to add, that pleasure which\nconsists in motion, (for this is the distinction he draws, that this\nagreeable pleasure is pleasure in motion, but the pleasure of him who is\nfree from pain is a state of pleasure,) then why does he appear to aim at\nwhat is impossible, namely, to make any one who knows himself\u2014that is to\nsay, who has any proper comprehension of his own nature and\nsensations\u2014think freedom from pain, and pleasure, the same thing?\n\nThis, O Torquatus, is doing violence to one\u2019s senses; it is wresting out\nof our minds the understanding of words with which we are imbued; for who\ncan avoid seeing that these three states exist in the nature of things:\nfirst, the state of being in pleasure; secondly, that of being in pain;\nthirdly, that of being in such a condition as we are at this moment, and\nyou too, I imagine, that is to say, neither in pleasure nor in pain; in\nsuch pleasure, I mean, as a man who is at a banquet, or in such pain as a\nman who is being tortured. What! do you not see a vast multitude of men\nwho are neither rejoicing nor suffering, but in an intermediate state\nbetween these two conditions? No, indeed, said he; I say that all men who\nare free from pain are in pleasure, and in the greatest pleasure too. Do\nyou, then, say that the man who, not being thirsty himself, mingles some\nwine for another, and the thirsty man who drinks it when mixed, are both\nenjoying the same pleasure?\n\nVI. Then, said he, a truce, if you please, to all your questions; and,\nindeed, I said at the beginning that I would rather have none of them, for\nI had a provident dread of these captious dialectics. Would you rather,\nthen, said I, that we should argue rhetorically than dialectically? As if,\nsaid he, a continuous discourse belonged solely to orators, and not to\nphilosophers also! I will tell you, said I, what Zeno the Stoic said; he\nsaid, as Aristotle had said before him, that all speaking was divided into\ntwo kinds, and that rhetoric resembled the open palm, dialectics the\nclosed fist, because orators usually spoke in a rather diffuse, and\ndialecticians in a somewhat compressed style. I will comply, then, with\nyour desires, and will speak, if I can, in an oratorical style, but still\nwith the oratory of the philosophers, and not that which we use in the\nforum; which is forced at times, when it is speaking so as to suit the\nmultitude, to submit to a very ordinary style. But while Epicurus, O\nTorquatus, is expressing his contempt for dialectics, an art which by\nitself contains the whole science both of perceiving what the real subject\nis in every question, and also of judging what the character of each thing\nis, by its system and method of conducting the argument, he goes on too\nfast, as it seems to me, and does not distinguish with any skill at all\nthe different points which he is intent upon proving, as in this very\ninstance which we were just now speaking of.\n\nPleasure is pronounced to be the chief good. We must then open the\nquestion, What is pleasure? for otherwise, the thing which we are seeking\nfor cannot be explained. But, if he had explained it, he would not\nhesitate; for either he would maintain that same definition of pleasure\nwhich Aristippus did, namely, that it is that feeling by which the senses\nare agreeably and pleasantly moved, which even cattle, if they could\nspeak, would call pleasure; or else, if he chose rather to speak in his\nown style, than like\n\n\n    All the Greeks from high Mycen\u00e6,\n    All Minerva\u2019s Attic youth,\n\n\nand the rest of the Greeks who are spoken of in these anap\u00e6sts, then he\nwould call this freedom from pain alone by the name of pleasure, and would\ndespise the definition of Aristippus; or, if he thought both definitions\ngood, as in fact he does, he would combine freedom from pain with\npleasure, and would employ the two extremes in his own definition: for\nmany, and they, too, great philosophers, have combined these extremities\nof goods, as, for instance, Aristotle, who united in his idea the practice\nof virtue with the prosperity of an entire life. Callipho(28) added\npleasure to what is honourable. Diodorus, in his definition, added to the\nsame honourableness, freedom from pain. Epicurus would have done so too,\nif he had combined the opinion which was held by Hieronymus, with the\nancient theory of Aristippus. For those two men disagree with one another,\nand on this account they employ separate definitions; and, while they both\nwrite the most beautiful Greek, still, neither does Aristippus, who calls\npleasure the chief good, ever speak of freedom from pain as pleasure; nor\ndoes Hieronymus, who lays it down that freedom from pain is the chief\ngood, ever use the word \u201cpleasure\u201d for that painlessness, inasmuch as he\nnever even reckons pleasure at all among the things which are desirable.\n\nVII. They are also two distinct things, that you may not think that the\ndifference consists only in words and names. One is to be without pain,\nthe other to be with pleasure. But your school not only attempt to make\none name for these two things which are so exceedingly unlike, (for I\nwould not mind that so much,) but you endeavour also to make one thing out\nof the two, which is utterly impossible. But Epicurus, who admits both\nthings, ought to use both expressions, and in fact he does divide them in\nreality, but still he does not distinguish between them in words. For\nthough he in many places praises that very pleasure which we all call by\nthe same name, he ventures to say that he does not even suspect that there\nis any good whatever unconnected with that kind of pleasure which\nAristippus means; and he makes this statement in the very place where his\nwhole discourse is about the chief good. But in another book, in which he\nutters opinions of the greatest weight in a concise form of words, and in\nwhich he is said to have delivered oracles of wisdom, he writes in those\nwords which you are well acquainted with, O Torquatus. For who is there of\nyou who has not learnt the \u03ba\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b4\u03cc\u03be\u03b1\u03b9 of Epicurus, that is to say, his\nfundamental maxims? because they are sentiments of the greatest gravity\nintended to guide men to a happy life, and enunciated with suitable\nbrevity. Consider, therefore, whether I am not translating this maxim of\nhis correctly. \u201cIf those things which are the efficient causes of\npleasures to luxurious men were to release them from all fear of the gods,\nand of death, and of pain, and to show them what are the proper limits to\ntheir desires, we should have nothing to find fault with; as men would\nthen be filled with pleasures from all quarters, and have on no side\nanything painful or melancholy, for all such things are evil.\u201d\n\nOn this Triarius could restrain himself no longer. I beg of you,\nTorquatus, said he, to tell me, is this what Epicurus says?\u2014because he\nappeared to me, although he knew it himself, still to wish to hear\nTorquatus admit it. But he was not at all put out, and said with great\nconfidence, Indeed, he does, and in these identical words; but you do not\nperceive what he means. If, said I, he says one thing and means another,\nthen I never shall understand what he means, but he speaks plainly enough\nfor me to see what he says. And if what he says is that luxurious men are\nnot to be blamed if they are wise men, he talks absurdly; just as if he\nwere to say that parricides are not to be found fault with if they are not\ncovetous, and if they fear neither gods, nor death, nor pain. And yet,\nwhat is the object of making any exception as to the luxurious, or of\nsupposing any people, who, while living luxuriously, would not be reproved\nby that consummate philosopher, provided only they guard against all other\nvices. Still, would not you, Epicurus, blame luxurious men for the mere\nfact of their living in such a manner as to pursue every sort of pleasure;\nespecially when, as you say, the chief pleasure of all is to be free from\npain? But yet we find some debauched men so far from having any religious\nscruples, that they will eat even out of the sacred vessels; and so far\nfrom fearing death that they are constantly repeating that passage out of\nthe Hymnis,(29)\u2014\n\n\n    Six months of life for me are quite sufficient,\n    The seventh may be for the shades below,\u2014\n\n\nand bringing up that Epicurean remedy for pain, as if they were taking it\nout of a medicine chest: \u201cIf it is bitter, it is of short duration; if it\nlasts a long time, it must be slight in degree.\u201d There is one thing which\nI do not understand, namely, how a man who is devoted to luxury can\npossibly have his appetites under restraint.\n\nVIII. What then is the use of saying, I should have nothing to reproach\nthem with if they only set bounds to their appetites? This is the same as\nsaying, I should not blame debauched men if they were not debauched men.\nIn the same way one might say, I should not blame even wicked men if they\nwere virtuous. This man of strict morality does not think luxury of itself\na thing to be blamed. And, indeed, O Torquatus, to speak the truth, if\npleasure is the chief good, he is quite right not to think so. For I\nshould be sorry to picture to myself, (as you are in the habit of doing,)\nmen so debauched as to vomit over the table and be carried away from\nbanquets, and then the next day, while still suffering from indigestion,\ngorge themselves again; men who, as they say, have never in their lives\nseen the sun set or rise, and who, having devoured their patrimony, are\nreduced to indigence. None of us imagine that debauched men of that sort\nlive pleasantly. You, however, rather mean to speak of refined and elegant\n_bons vivans_, men who, by the employment of the most skilful cooks and\nbakers, and by carefully culling the choicest products of fishermen,\nfowlers, and hunters, avoid all indigestion\u2014\n\n\n    Men who draw richer wines from foaming casks.\n\n\nAs Lucilius says, men who\n\n\n    So strain, so cool the rosy wine with snow,\n    That all the flavour still remains uninjured\u2014\n\n\nand so on\u2014men in the enjoyment of luxuries such that, if they are taken\naway, Epicurus says that he does not know what there is that can be called\ngood. Let them also have beautiful boys to attend upon them; let their\nclothes, their plate, their articles of Corinthian _vertu_, the\nbanqueting-room itself, all correspond, still I should never be induced to\nsay that these men so devoted to luxury were living either well or\nhappily. From which it follows, not indeed that pleasure is not pleasure,\nbut that pleasure is not the chief good. Nor was L\u00e6lius, who, when a young\nman, was a pupil of Diogenes the Stoic, and afterwards of Pan\u00e6tius, called\na wise man because he did not understand what was most pleasant to the\ntaste, (for it does not follow that the man who has a discerning heart\nmust necessarily have a palate destitute of discernment,) but because he\nthought it of but small importance.\n\n\n    O sorrel, how that man may boast himself,\n    By whom you\u2019re known and valued! Proud of you,\n    That wise man L\u00e6lius would loudly shout,\n    Addressing all our epicures in order.\n\n\nAnd it was well said by L\u00e6lius, and he may be truly called a wise man,\u2014\n\n\n    You Publius, Gallonius, you whirlpool,\n    You are a miserable man; you never\n    In all your life have really feasted well,\n    Though spending all your substance on those prawns,\n    And overgrown huge sturgeons.\n\n\nThe man who says this is one who, as he attributes no importance to\npleasure himself, denies that the man feasts well who refers everything to\npleasure. And yet he does not deny that Gallonius has at times feasted as\nhe wished: for that would be speaking untruly: he only denies that he has\never feasted well. With such dignity and severe principle does he\ndistinguish between pleasure and good. And the natural inference is, that\nall who feast well feast as they wish, but that it does not follow that\nall who feast as they wish do therefore feast well. L\u00e6lius always feasted\nwell. How so? Lucilius shall tell you\u2014\n\n\n    He feasted on well season\u2019d, well arranged\u2014\n\n\nwhat? What was the chief part of his supper?\n\n\n    Converse of prudent men,\u2014\n\n\nWell, and what else?\n\n\n    with cheerful mind.\n\n\nFor he came to a banquet with a tranquil mind, desirous only of appeasing\nthe wants of nature. L\u00e6lius then is quite right to deny that Gallonius had\never feasted well; he is quite right to call him miserable; especially as\nhe devoted the whole of his attention to that point. And yet no one\naffirms that he did not sup as he wished. Why then did he not feast well?\nBecause feasting well is feasting with propriety, frugality, and good\norder; but this man was in the habit of feasting badly, that is, in a\ndissolute, profligate, gluttonous, unseemly manner. L\u00e6lius, then, was not\npreferring the flavour of sorrel to Gallonius\u2019s sturgeon, but merely\ntreating the taste of the sturgeon with indifference; which he would not\nhave done if he had placed the chief good in pleasure.\n\nIX. We must then discard pleasure, not only in order to follow what is\nright, but even to be able to talk becomingly. Can we then call that the\nchief good in life, which we see cannot possibly be so even in a banquet?\n\nBut how is it that this philosopher speaks of three kinds of\nappetites,\u2014some natural and necessary, some natural but not necessary, and\nothers neither natural nor necessary? In the first place, he has not made\na neat division; for out of two kinds he has made three. Now this is not\ndividing, but breaking in pieces. If he had said that there are two kinds\nof appetites, natural and superfluous ones, and that the natural appetites\nmight be also subdivided into two kinds, necessary and not necessary, he\nwould have been all right. And those who have learnt what he despises do\nusually say so. For it is a vicious division to reckon a part as a genus.\nHowever, let us pass over this, for he despises elegance in arguing; he\nspeaks confusedly. We must submit to this as long as his sentiments are\nright. I do not, however, approve, and it is as much as I can do to\nendure, a philosopher speaking of the necessity of setting bounds to the\ndesires. Is it possible to set bounds to the desires? I say that they must\nbe banished, eradicated by the roots. For what man is there in whom\nappetites(30) dwell, who can deny that he may with propriety be called\nappetitive? If so, he will be avaricious, though to a limited extent; and\nan adulterer, but only in moderation; and he will be luxurious in the same\nmanner. Now what sort of a philosophy is that which does not bring with it\nthe destruction of depravity, but is content with a moderate degree of\nvice? Although in this division I am altogether on his side as to the\nfacts, only I wish he would express himself better. Let him call these\nfeelings the wishes of nature; and let him keep the name of desire for\nother objects, so as, when speaking of avarice, of intemperance, and of\nthe greatest vices, to be able to indict it as it were on a capital\ncharge. However, all this is said by him with a good deal of freedom, and\nis often repeated; and I do not blame him, for it is becoming in so great\na philosopher, and one of such a great reputation, to defend his own\ndegrees fearlessly.\n\nBut still, from the fact of his often appearing to embrace that pleasure,\n(I mean that which all nations call by this name,) with a good deal of\neagerness, he is at times in great difficulties, so that, if he could only\npass undetected, there is nothing so shameful that it does not seem likely\nthat he would do it for the sake of pleasure. And then, when he has been\nput to the blush, (for the power of nature is very great,) he takes refuge\nin denying that any addition can possibly be made to the pleasure of the\nman who is free from pain. But that state of freedom from pain is not\ncalled pleasure. I do not care, says he, about the name. But what do you\nsay about the thing being utterly different?\u2014I will find you many men, or\nI may say an innumerable host, not so curious nor so embarrassing as you\nare, whom I can easily convince of whatever I choose. Why then do we\nhesitate to say that, if to be free from pain is the highest degree of\npleasure, to be destitute of pleasure is the highest degree of pain?\nBecause it is not pleasure which is the contrary to pain, but the absence\nof pain.\n\nX. But this he does not see, that it is a great proof that at the very\nmoment when he says that if pleasure be once taken away he has no idea at\nall what remaining thing can be called good, (and he follows up this\nassertion with the statement that he means such pleasure as is perceptible\nby the palate and by the ears, and adds other things which decency ought\nto forbid him to mention,) he is, like a strict and worthy philosopher,\naware that this which he calls the chief good is not even a thing which is\nworth desiring for its own sake, that he himself informs us that we have\nno reason to wish for pleasure at all, if we are free from pain. How\ninconsistent are these statements! If he had learnt to make correct\ndivisions or definitions of his subject, if he had a proper regard to the\nusages of speaking and the common meaning of words, he would never have\nfallen into such difficulties. But as it is, you see what it is he is\ndoing. That which no one has ever called pleasure at all, and that also\nwhich is real active pleasure, which are two distinct things, he makes but\none. For he calls them agreeable and, as I may say, sweet-tasted\npleasures. At times he speaks so lightly of them that you might fancy you\nwere listening to Marcus Curius. At times he extols them so highly that he\nsays he cannot form even the slightest idea of what else is good\u2014a\nsentiment which deserves not the reproof of a philosopher, but the brand\nof the censor. For vice does not confine itself to language, but\npenetrates also into the manners. He does not find fault with luxury\nprovided it to be free from boundless desires and from fear. While\nspeaking in this way he appears to be fishing for disciples, that men who\nwish to become debauchees may become philosophers first.\n\nNow, in my opinion, the origin of the chief good is to be sought in the\nfirst origin of living animals. As soon as an animal is born it rejoices\nin pleasure, and seeks it as a good; it shuns pain as an evil. And\nEpicurus says that excellent decisions on the subject of the good and the\nevil are come to by those animals which are not yet depraved. You, too,\nhave laid down the same position, and these are your own words. How many\nerrors are there in them! For by reference to which kind of pleasure will\na puling infant judge of the chief good; pleasure in stability or pleasure\nin motion?\u2014since, if the gods so will, we are learning how to speak from\nEpicurus. If it is from pleasure as a state, then certainly nature desires\nto be exempt from evil herself; which we grant; if it is from pleasure in\nmotion, which, however, is what you say, then there will be no pleasure so\ndiscreditable as to deserve to be passed over. And at the same time that\njust-born animal you are speaking of does not begin with the highest\npleasure; which has been defined by you to consist in not being in pain.\n\nHowever, Epicurus did not seek to derive this argument from infants, or\neven from beasts, which he looks upon as mirrors of nature as it were; so\nas to say that they, under the guidance of nature, seek only this pleasure\nof being free from pain. For this sort of pleasure cannot excite the\ndesires of the mind; nor has this state of freedom from pain any impulse\nby which it can act upon the mind. Therefore Hieronymus blunders in this\nsame thing. For that pleasure only acts upon the mind which has the power\nof alluring the senses. Therefore Epicurus always has recourse to this\npleasure when wishing to prove that pleasure is sought for naturally;\nbecause that pleasure which consists in motion both allures infants to\nitself, and beasts; and this is not done by that pleasure which is a state\nin which there is no other ingredient but freedom from pain. How then can\nit be proper to say that nature begins with one kind of pleasure, and yet\nto put the chief good in another?\n\nXI. But as for beasts, I do not consider that they can pronounce any\njudgment at all. For although they are not depraved, it is still possible\nfor them to be wrong. Just as one stick may be bent and crooked by having\nbeen made so on purpose, and another may be so naturally; so the nature of\nbeasts is not indeed depraved by evil education, but is wrong naturally.\nNor is it correct to say that nature excites the infant to desire\npleasure, but only to love itself and to desire to preserve itself safe\nand unhurt. For every animal the moment that it is born loves itself, and\nevery part of itself, and above all does it love its two principal parts,\nnamely its mind and body, and afterwards it proceeds to love the separate\nparts of each. For there are in the mind and also in the body some parts\nof especial consequence; and as soon as it has got a slight perception of\nthis fact, it then begins to make distinctions, so as to desire those\nthings which are by nature given to it as its principal goods, and to\nreject the contrary. Now it is a great question whether among these\nprimary natural goods, pleasure has any place or not. But to think that\nthere is nothing beyond pleasure, no limbs, no sensations, no emotions of\nthe mind, no integrity of the body, no health, appears to me to be a token\nof the greatest ignorance. And on this the whole question of good and evil\nturns. Now Polemo and also Aristotle thought those things which I\nmentioned just now the greatest of goods. And from this originated that\nopinion of the Old Academy and of the Peripatetic School, which led them\nto say that the greatest good was to live in accordance with nature\u2014that\nis to say, to enjoy the chief good things which are given by nature, with\nthe accompaniment of virtue. Callipho added nothing to virtue except\npleasure; Diodorus nothing except freedom from pain. And all these men\nattach the idea of the greatest good to some one of these things which I\nhave mentioned. Aristippus thought it was simple pleasure. The Stoics\ndefined it to be agreeing with nature, which they say can only be living\nvirtuously, living honourably. And they interpret it further thus\u2014to live\nwith an understanding of those things which happen naturally, selecting\nthose which are in accordance with nature, and rejecting the contrary. So\nthere are three definitions, all of which exclude honesty:\u2014one, that of\nAristippus or Epicurus; the second, that of Hieronymus; the third, that of\nCarneades: three in which honesty is admitted with some qualifying\nadditions; those, namely, of Polemo, Callipho, and Diodorus: one single\none, of which Zeno is the author, which is wholly referred to what is\nbecoming; that is to say, to honesty. For Pyrrho, Aristo, and Herillus,\nhave long since sunk into oblivion. The rest have been consistent with\nthemselves, so as to make their ends agree with their beginnings; so that\nAristippus has defined it to be pleasure; Hieronymus, freedom from pain;\nand Carneades, the enjoyment of what are pointed out by nature as the\nprincipal goods.\n\nXII. But when Epicurus had given pleasure the highest rank, if he meant\nthe same pleasure that Aristippus did he ought to have adopted the same\nthing as the chief good that he did; if he meant the same that Hieronymus\ndid, he would then have been assigning the first rank to Hieronymus\u2019s\npleasure, and not to that of Aristippus.\n\nFor, as to what he says, that it is decided by the senses themselves that\npleasure is a good and that pain is an evil, he has attributed more weight\nto the senses than the laws allow them. We are the judges of private\nactions, but we cannot decide anything which does not legally come under\nthe cognisance of our tribunal; and, in such a case, it is to no purpose\nthat judges are in the habit, when they pronounce sentence, of adding, \u201cif\nthe question belongs to my jurisdiction;\u201d for, if the matter did not come\nunder their jurisdiction, this additional form of words would not any the\nmore give validity to their decision. Now, what is it that the senses are\njudges of? Whether a thing is sweet or bitter, soft or hard, near or far\noff; whether it is standing still or moving; whether it is square or\nround. What sentence, then, will reason pronounce, having first of all\ncalled in the aid of the knowledge of divine and human affairs, which is\nproperly called wisdom; and having, after that, associated to itself the\nvirtues which reason points out as the mistresses of all things, but which\nyou make out to be only the satellites and handmaidens of pleasures? The\nsentence, however, of all these qualities, will pronounce first of all,\nrespecting pleasure, that there is no room for it; not only no room for\nits being placed by itself in the rank of the chief good, which is what we\nare looking for, but no room even for its being placed in connexion even\nwith what is honourable.\n\nThe same sentence will be passed upon freedom from pain; Carneades also\nwill be disregarded; nor will any definition of the chief good be approved\nof, which has any close connexion with pleasure, or freedom from pain, or\nwhich is devoid of what is honourable. And so it will leave two, which it\nwill consider over and over again; for it will either lay down the maxim,\nthat nothing is good except what is honourable, nothing evil except what\nis disgraceful; that everything else is either of no consequence at all,\nor, at all events, of only so much, that it is neither to be sought after\nnor avoided, but only selected or rejected; or else, it will prefer that\nwhich it shall perceive to be the most richly endowed with what is\nhonourable, and enriched, at the same time, with the primary good things\nof nature, and with the perfection of the whole life; and it will do so\nall the more clearly, if it comes to a right understanding whether the\ncontroversy between them is one of facts, or only of words.\n\nXIII. I now, following the authority of this man, will do the same as he\nhas done; for, as far as I can, I will diminish the disputes, and will\nregard all their simple opinions in which there is no association of\nvirtue, as judgments which ought to be utterly removed to a distance from\nphilosophy. First of all, I will discard the principles of Aristippus, and\nof all the Cyrenaics,\u2014men who were not afraid to place the chief good in\nthat pleasure which especially excited the senses with its sweetness,\ndisregarding that freedom from pain. These men did not perceive that, as a\nhorse is born for galloping, and an ox for ploughing, and a dog for\nhunting, so man, also, is born for two objects, as Aristotle says, namely,\nfor understanding and for acting as if he were a kind of mortal god. But,\non the other hand, as a slow moving and languid sheep is born to feed, and\nto take pleasure in propagating his species, they fancied also that this\ndivine animal was born for the same purposes; than which nothing can\nappear to me more absurd; and all this is in opposition to Aristippus, who\nconsiders that pleasure not only the highest, but also the only one, which\nall the rest of us consider as only one of the pleasures.\n\nYou, however, think differently; but he, as I have already said, is\negregiously wrong,\u2014for neither does the figure of the human body, nor the\nadmirable reasoning powers of the human mind, intimate that man was born\nfor no other end than the mere enjoyment of pleasure; nor must we listen\nto Hieronymus, whose chief good is the same which you sometimes, or, I\nmight say, too often call so, namely, freedom from pain; for it does not\nfollow, because pain is an evil, that to be free from that evil is\nsufficient for living well. Ennius speaks more correctly, when he says,\u2014\n\n\n    The man who feels no evil, does\n    Enjoy too great a good.\n\n\nLet us define a happy life as consisting, not in the repelling of evil,\nbut in the acquisition of good; and let us seek to procure it, not by\ndoing nothing, whether one is feeling pleasure, as Aristippus says, or\nfeeling no pain, as Hieronymus insists, but by doing something, and giving\nour mind to thought. And all these same things may be said against that\nchief good which Carneades calls such; which he, however, brought forward,\nnot so much for the purpose of proving his position, as of contradicting\nthe Stoics, with whom he was at variance: and this good of his is such,\nthat, when added to virtue, it appears likely to have some authority, and\nto be able to perfect a happy life in a most complete manner, and it is\nthis that the whole of this present discussion is about; for they who add\nto virtue pleasure, which is the thing which above all others virtue\nthinks of small importance, or freedom from pain, which, even if it be a\nfreedom from evil, is nevertheless not the chief good, make use of an\naddition which is not very easily recommended to men in general, and yet I\ndo not understand why they do it in such a niggardly and restricted\nmanner: for, as if they had to bring something to add to virtue, first of\nall they add things of the least possible value; afterwards they add\nthings one by one, instead of uniting everything which nature had approved\nof as the highest goods, to pleasure. And as all these things appeared to\nAristo and to Pyrrho absolutely of no consequence at all, so that they\nsaid that there was literally no difference whatever between being in a\nmost perfect state of health, and in a most terrible condition of disease,\npeople rightly enough have long ago given up arguing against them; for,\nwhile they insisted upon it that everything was comprised in virtue alone,\nto such a degree as to deprive it of all power of making any selection of\nexternal circumstances, and while they gave it nothing from which it could\noriginate, or on which it could rely, they in reality destroyed virtue\nitself, which they were professing to embrace. But Herillus, who sought to\nrefer everything to knowledge, saw, indeed, that there was one good, but\nwhat he saw was not the greatest possible good, nor such an one that life\ncould be regulated by it; therefore, he also has been discarded a long\ntime ago, for, indeed, there has been no one who has argued against him\nsince Chrysippus.\n\nXIV. Your school, then, is now the only one remaining to be combated; for\nthe contest with the Academicians is an uncertain one, for they affirm\nnothing, and, as if they despaired of arriving at any certain knowledge,\nwish to follow whatever is probable. But we have more trouble with\nEpicurus, because he combines two kinds of pleasure, and because he and\nhis friends, and many others since, have been advocates of that opinion;\nand somehow or other, the people, who, though they have the least\nauthority, have nevertheless the greatest power, are on his side; and,\nunless we refute them, all virtue, and all reputation, and all true glory,\nmust be abandoned. And so, having put aside the opinions of all the rest,\nthere remains a contest, not between Torquatus and me, but between virtue\nand pleasure; and this contest Chrysippus, a man of great acuteness and\ngreat industry, is far from despising; and he thinks that the whole\nquestion as to the chief good is at stake in this controversy: but I\nthink, if I show the reality of what is honourable, and that it is a thing\nto be sought for by reason of its own intrinsic excellence, and for its\nown sake, that all your arguments are at once overthrown; therefore, when\nI have once established what its character is, speaking briefly, as the\ntime requires, I shall approach all your arguments, O Torquatus, unless my\nmemory fails me.\n\nWe understand, then, that to be honourable which is such that, leaving all\nadvantage out of the question, it can be deservedly praised by itself,\nwithout thinking of any reward or profit derived from it. And what its\ncharacter is may be understood, not so much by the definition which I have\nemployed, (although that may help in some degree,) as by the common\nsentiments of all men, and by the zeal and conduct of every virtuous man;\nfor such do many things for this sole reason, because they are becoming,\nbecause they are right, because they are honourable, even though they do\nnot perceive any advantage likely to result from them: for men differ from\nbeasts in many other things indeed, but especially in this one particular,\nthat they have reason and intellect given to them by nature, and a mind,\nactive, vigorous, revolving many things at the same time with the greatest\nrapidity, and, if I may so say, sagacious to perceive the causes of\nthings, and their consequences and connexions, and to use metaphors, and\nto combine things which are unconnected, and to connect the future with\nthe present, and to embrace in its view the whole course of a consistent\nlife. The same reason has also made man desirous of the society of men,\nand inclined to agree with them by nature, and conversation, and custom;\nso that, setting out with affection for his friends and relations, he\nproceeds further, and unites himself in a society, first of all of his\nfellow-countrymen, and subsequently of all mortals; and as Plato wrote to\nArchytas, recollects that he has been born, not for himself alone, but for\nhis country and his family; so that there is but a small portion of\nhimself left for himself. And since the same nature has implanted in man a\ndesire of ascertaining the truth, which is most easily visible when, being\nfree from all cares, we wish to know what is taking place, even in the\nheavens; led on from these beginnings we love everything that is true,\nthat is to say, that is faithful, simple, consistent, and we hate what is\nvain, false and deceitful, such as fraud, perjury, cunning and injustice.\n\nThe same reason has in itself something large and magnificent, suited for\ncommand rather than for obedience; thinking all events which can befal a\nman not only endurable, but insignificant; something lofty and sublime,\nfearing nothing, yielding to no one, always invincible. And, when these\nthree kinds of the honourable have been noticed, a fourth follows, of the\nsame beauty and suited to the other three, in which order and moderation\nexist; and when the likeness of it to the others is perceived in the\nbeauty and dignity of all their separate forms, we are transported across\nto what is honourable in words and actions; for, in consequence of these\nthree virtues which I have already mentioned, a man avoids rashness, and\ndoes not venture to injure any one by any wanton word or action, and is\nafraid either to do or to say anything which may appear at all unsuited to\nthe dignity of a man.\n\nXV. Here, now, O Torquatus, you have a picture of what is honourable\ncompletely filled in and finished; and it is contained wholly in these\nfour virtues which you also mentioned. But your master Epicurus says that\nhe knows nothing whatever of it, and does not understand what, or what\nsort of quality those people assert it to be, who profess to measure the\nchief good by the standard of what is honourable. For if everything is\nreferred to that, and if they say that pleasure has no part in it, then he\nsays that they are talking idly, (these are his very words,) and do not\nunderstand or see what real meaning ought to be conveyed under this word\nhonourable; for, as custom has it, he says that that alone is honourable\nwhich is accounted glorious by common report; and that, says he, although\nit is often more pleasant than some pleasures, still is sought for the\nsake of pleasure. Do you not see how greatly these two parties differ? A\nnoble philosopher, by whom not only Greece and Italy, but all the\ncountries of the barbarians are influenced, says that he does not\nunderstand what honourableness is, if it be not in pleasure, unless,\nperchance, it is that thing which is praised by the common conversation of\nthe populace. But my opinion is, that this is often even dishonourable,\nand that real honourableness is not called so from the circumstance of its\nbeing praised by the many, but because it is such a thing that even if men\nwere unacquainted with it, or if they said nothing about it, it would\nstill be praiseworthy by reason of its own intrinsic beauty and\nexcellence.\n\nAnd so he again, being forced to yield to the power of nature, which is\nalways irresistible, says in another place what you also said a little\nwhile ago,\u2014that a man cannot live pleasantly unless he also lives\nhonourably. Now then, what is the meaning of honourably? does it mean the\nsame as pleasantly? If so, this statement will come to this, that a man\ncannot live honourably unless he lives honourably. Is it honourably\naccording to public report? Therefore he affirms that a man cannot live\npleasantly without he has public report in his favour. What can be more\nshameful than for the life of a wise man to depend on the conversation of\nfools? What is it, then, that in this place he understands by the word\nhonourable? Certainly nothing except what can be deservedly praised for\nits own sake; for if it be praised for the sake of pleasure, then what\nsort of praise, I should like to know, is that which can be sought for in\nthe shambles? He is not a man, while he places honourableness in such a\nrank that he affirms it to be impossible to live pleasantly without it, to\nthink that honourable which is popular, and to affirm that one cannot live\npleasantly without popularity; or to understand by the word honourable\nanything except what is right, and deservedly to be praised by itself and\nfor itself, from a regard to its own power and influence and intrinsic\nnature.\n\nXVI. Therefore, Torquatus, when you said that Epicurus asserted loudly\nthat a man could not live pleasantly if he did not also live honourably,\nand wisely, and justly, you appeared to me to be boasting yourself. There\nwas such energy in your words, on account of the dignity of those things\nwhich were indicated by those words, that you became taller, that you rose\nup, and fixed your eyes upon us as if you were giving a solemn testimony\nthat honourableness and justice are sometimes praised by Epicurus. How\nbecoming was it to you to use that language, which is so necessary for\nphilosophers, that if they did not use it we should have no great need of\nphilosophy at all! For it is out of love for those words, which are very\nseldom employed by Epicurus\u2014I mean wisdom, fortitude, justice, and\ntemperance\u2014that men of the most admirable powers of mind have betaken\nthemselves to the study of philosophy.\n\n\u201cThe sense of our eyes,\u201d says Plato, \u201cis most acute in us; but yet we do\nnot see wisdom with them. What a vehement passion for itself would it\nexcite if it could be beheld by the eyes!\u201d Why so? Because it is so\ningenious as to be able to devise pleasures in the most skilful manner.\nWhy is justice extolled? or what is it that has given rise to that old and\nmuch-worn proverb, \u201cHe is a man with whom you may play(31) in the dark.\u201d\nThis, though applied to only one thing, has a very extensive application;\nso that in every case we are influenced by the facts, and not by the\nwitness.\n\nFor those things which you were saying were very weak and powerless\narguments,\u2014when you urged that the wicked were tormented by their own\nconsciences, and also by fear of punishment, which is either inflicted on\nthem, or keeps them in constant fear that it will be inflicted. One ought\nnot to imagine a man timid, or weak in his mind, nor a good man, who,\nwhatever he has done, keeps tormenting himself, and dreads everything; but\nrather let us fancy one, who with great shrewdness refers everything to\nusefulness\u2014an acute, crafty, wary man, able with ease to devise plans for\ndeceiving any one secretly, without any witness, or any one being privy to\nit. Do you think that I am speaking of Lucius Tubulus?\u2014who, when as pr\u00e6tor\nhe had been sitting as judge upon the trial of some assassins, took money\nto influence his decision so undisguisedly, that the next year Publius\nSc\u00e6vola, being tribune of the people, made a motion before the people,\nthat an inquiry should be made into the case. In accordance with which\ndecree of the people, Cn\u00e6us C\u00e6pio, the consul, was ordered by the senate\nto investigate the affair. Tubulus immediately went into banishment, and\ndid not dare to make any reply to the charge, for the matter was\nnotorious.\n\nXVII. We are not, therefore, inquiring about a man who is merely wicked,\nbut about one who mingles cunning with his wickedness, (as Quintus\nPompeius(32) did when he repudiated the treaty of Numantia,) and yet who\nis not afraid of everything, but who has rather no regard for the stings\nof conscience, which it costs him no trouble at all to stifle; for a man\nwho is called close and secret is so far from informing against himself,\nthat he will even pretend to grieve at what is done wrong by another; for\nwhat else is the meaning of the word crafty (_versutus_)? I recollect on\none occasion being present at a consultation held by Publius Sextilius\nRufus, when he reported the case on which he asked advice to his friends\nin this manner: That he had been left heir to Quintus Fadius Gallus; in\nwhose will it had been written that he had entreated Sextilius to take\ncare that what he left behind him should come to his daughter. Sextilius\ndenied that he had done so. He could deny it with impunity, for who was\nthere to convict him? None of us believed him; and it was more likely that\nhe should tell a lie whose interest it was to do so, than he who had set\ndown in his will that he had made the request which he ought to have made.\nHe added, moreover, that having sworn to comply with the Voconian(33) law,\nhe did not dare to violate it, unless his friends were of a contrary\nopinion. I myself was very young when I was present on this occasion, but\nthere were present also many men of the highest character, not one of whom\nthought that more ought to be given to Fadia than could come to her under\nthe provisions of the Voconian law. Sextilius retained a very large\ninheritance; of which, if he had followed the opinion of those men who\npreferred what was right and honourable to all profit and advantage, he\nwould never have touched a single penny. Do you think that he was\nafterwards anxious and uneasy in his mind on that account? Not a bit of\nit: on the contrary, he was a rich man, owing to that inheritance, and he\nrejoiced in his riches, for he set a great value on money which was\nacquired not only without violating the laws, but even by the law. And\nmoney is what you also think worth seeking for, even with great risk, for\nit is the efficient cause of many and great pleasures. As, therefore,\nevery danger appears fit to be encountered for the sake of what is\nbecoming and honourable, by those who decide that what is right and\nhonourable is to be sought for its own sake; so the men of your school,\nwho measure everything by pleasure, must encounter every danger in order\nto acquire great pleasures, if any great property or any important\ninheritance is at stake, since numerous pleasures are procured by money.\nAnd your master Epicurus must, if he wishes to pursue what he himself\nconsiders the chief of all good things, do the same that Scipio did, who\nhad a prospect of great glory before him if he could compel Annibal to\nreturn into Africa. And with this view, what great dangers did he\nencounter! for he measured the whole of his enterprise by the standard of\nhonour, not of pleasure. And in like manner, your wise man, being excited\nby the prospect of some advantage, will fight(34) courageously, if it\nshould be necessary. If his exploits are undiscovered, he will rejoice; if\nhe is taken, he will despise every kind of punishment, for he will be\nthoroughly armed for a contempt of death, banishment, and even of pain,\nwhich you indeed represent as intolerable when you hold it out to wicked\nmen as a punishment, but as endurable when you argue that a wise man has\nalways more good than evil in his fortune.\n\nXVIII. But picture to yourself a man not only cunning, so as to be\nprepared to act dishonestly in any circumstances that may arise, but also\nexceedingly powerful; as, for instance, Marcus Crassus was, who, however,\nalways exercised his own natural good disposition; or as at this day our\nfriend Pompeius is, to whom we ought to feel grateful for his virtuous\nconduct; for, although he is inclined to act justly, he could be unjust\nwith perfect impunity. But how many unjust actions can be committed which\nnevertheless no one could find any ground for attacking! Suppose your\nfriend, when dying, has entreated you to restore his inheritance to his\ndaughter, and yet has never set it down in his will, as Fadius did, and\nhas never mentioned to any one that he has done so, what will you do? You\nindeed will restore it. Perhaps Epicurus himself would have restored it;\njust as Sextus Peduc\u00e6us the son of Sextus did; he who has left behind him\na son, our intimate friend, a living image of his own virtue and honesty,\na learned person, and the most virtuous and upright of all men; for he,\nthough no one was aware that he had been entreated by Caius Plotius, a\nRoman knight of high character and great fortune, of the district of\nNursia, to do so, came of his own accord to his widow, and, though she had\nno notion of the fact, detailed to her the commission which he had\nreceived from her husband, and made over the inheritance to her. But I ask\nyou (since you would certainly have acted in the same manner yourself), do\nyou not understand that the power of nature is all the greater, inasmuch\nas you yourselves, who refer everything to your own advantage, and, as you\nyourselves say, to pleasure, still perform actions from which it is\nevident that you are guided not by pleasure, but by principles of duty,\nand that your own upright nature has more influence over you than any\nvicious reasoning?\n\nIf you knew, says Carneades, that a snake was lying hid in any place, and\nthat some one was going ignorantly to sit down upon it whose death would\nbring you some advantage, you would be acting wickedly if you did not warn\nhim not to sit down there; and yet you could not be punished, for who\ncould possibly convict you? However, I am dwelling too long on this point;\nfor it is evident, unless equity, good faith and justice proceed from\nnature, and if all these things are referred to advantage, that a good man\ncannot possibly be found. But on this subject we have put a sufficient\nnumber of arguments into the mouth of L\u00e6lius, in our books on a Republic.\n\nXIX. Now apply the same arguments to modesty, or temperance, which is a\nmoderation of the appetites, in subordination to reason. Can we say that a\nman pays sufficient regard to the dictates of modesty, who indulges his\nlusts in such a manner as to have no witnesses of his conduct? or is there\nanything which is intrinsically flagitious, even if no loss of reputation\nensues? What do brave men do? Do they enter into an exact calculation of\npleasure, and so enter the battle, and shed their blood for their country?\nor are they excited rather by a certain ardour and impetuosity of courage?\nDo you think, O Torquatus, that that imperious ancestor of yours, if he\ncould hear what we are now saying, would rather listen to your sentiments\nconcerning him, or to mine, when I said that he had done nothing for his\nown sake, but everything for that of the republic; and you, on the\ncontrary, affirm that he did nothing except with a view to his own\nadvantage? But if you were to wish to explain yourself further, and were\nto say openly that he did nothing except for the sake of pleasure, how do\nyou think that he would bear such an assertion?\n\nBe it so. Let Torquatus, if you will, have acted solely with a view to his\nown advantage, for I would rather employ that expression than pleasure,\nespecially when speaking of so eminent a man,\u2014did his colleague too,\nPublius Decius, the first man who ever was consul in that family, did he,\nI say, when he was devoting himself, and rushing at the full speed of his\nhorse into the middle of the army of the Latins, think at all of his own\npleasures? For where or when was he to find any, when he knew that he\nshould perish immediately, and when he was seeking that death with more\neager zeal than Epicurus thinks even pleasure deserving to be sought with?\nAnd unless this exploit of his had been deservedly extolled, his son would\nnot have imitated it in his fourth consulship; nor, again, would his son,\nwhen fighting against Pyrrhus, have fallen in battle when he was consul,\nand so offered himself up for the sake of the republic as a third victim\nin an uninterrupted succession from the same family. I will forbear giving\nany more examples. I might get a few from the Greeks, such as Leonidas,\nEpaminondas, and three or four more perhaps. And if I were to begin\nhunting up our own annals for such instances, I should soon establish my\npoint, and compel Pleasure to give herself up, bound hand and foot, to\nvirtue. But the day would be too short for me. And as Aulus Varius, who\nwas considered a rather severe judge, was in the habit of saying to his\ncolleague, when, after some witnesses had been produced, others were still\nbeing summoned, \u201cEither we have had witnesses enough, or I do not know\nwhat is enough;\u201d so I think that I have now brought forward witnesses\nenough.\n\nFor, what will you say? Was it pleasure that worked upon you, a man\nthoroughly worthy of your ancestors, while still a young man, to rob\nPublius Sylla of the consulship? And when you had succeeded in procuring\nit for your father, a most gallant man, what a consul did he prove, and\nwhat a citizen at all times, and most especially after his consulship!\nAnd, indeed, it was by his advice that we ourselves behaved in such a\nmanner as to consult the advantage of the whole body of the citizens\nrather than our own.\n\nBut how admirably did you seem to speak, when on the one side you drew a\npicture of a man loaded with the most numerous and excessive pleasures,\nwith no pain, either present or future; and on the other, of a man\nsurrounded with the greatest torments affecting his whole body, with no\npleasure, either present or hoped for; and asked who could be more\nmiserable than the one, or more happy than the other? and then concluded,\nthat pain was the greatest evil, and pleasure the greatest good.\n\nXX. There was a man of Lanuvium, called Lucius Thorius Balbus, whom you\ncannot remember; he lived in such a way that no pleasure could be imagined\nso exquisite, that he had not a superfluity of it. He was greedy of\npleasure, a critical judge of every species of it, and very rich. So far\nremoved from all superstition, as to despise the numerous sacrifices which\ntake place, and temples which exist in his country; so far from fearing\ndeath, that he was slain in battle fighting for the republic. He bounded\nhis appetites, not according to the division of Epicurus, but by his own\nfeelings of satiety. He took sufficient exercise always to come to supper\nboth thirsty and hungry. He ate such food as was at the same time nicest\nin taste and most easy of digestion; and selected such wine as gave him\npleasure, and was, at the same time, free from hurtful qualities. He had\nall those other means and appliances which Epicurus thinks so necessary,\nthat he says that if they are denied, he cannot understand what is good.\nHe was free from every sort of pain; and if he had felt any, he would not\nhave borne it impatiently, though he would have been more inclined to\nconsult a physician than a philosopher. He was a man of a beautiful\ncomplexion, of perfect health, of the greatest influence, in short, his\nwhole life was one uninterrupted scene of every possible variety of\npleasures. Now, you call this man happy. Your principles compel you to do\nso. But as for me, I will not, indeed, venture to name the man whom I\nprefer to him\u2014Virtue herself shall speak for me, and she will not hesitate\nto rank Marcus Regulus before this happy man of yours. For Virtue asserts\nloudly that this man, when, of his own accord, under no compulsion, except\nthat of the pledge which he had given to the enemy, he had returned to\nCarthage, was, at the very moment when he was being tortured with\nsleeplessness and hunger, more happy than Thorius while drinking on a bed\nof roses.\n\nRegulus had had the conduct of great wars; he had been twice consul; he\nhad had a triumph; and yet he did not think those previous exploits of his\nso great or so glorious as that last misfortune which he incurred, because\nof his own good faith and constancy; a misfortune which appears pitiable\nto us who hear of it, but was actually pleasant to him who endured it. For\nmen are happy, not because of hilarity, or lasciviousness, or laughter, or\njesting, the companion of levity, but often even through sorrow endured\nwith firmness and constancy. Lucretia, having been ravished by force by\nthe king\u2019s son, called her fellow-citizens to witness, and slew herself.\nThis grief of hers, Brutus being the leader and mover of the Roman people,\nwas the cause of liberty to the whole state. And out of regard for the\nmemory of that woman, her husband and her father were made consuls(35) the\nfirst year of the republic. Lucius Virginius, a man of small property and\none of the people, sixty years after the reestablishment of liberty, slew\nhis virgin daughter with his own hand, rather than allow her to be\nsurrendered to the lust of Appius Claudius, who was at that time invested\nwith the supreme power.\n\nXXI. Now you, O Torquatus, must either blame all these actions, or else\nyou must abandon the defence of pleasure. And what a cause is that, and\nwhat a task does the man undertake who comes forward as the advocate of\npleasure, who is unable to call any one illustrious man as evidence in her\nfavour or as a witness to her character? For as we have awakened those men\nfrom the records of our annals as witnesses, whose whole life has been\nconsumed in glorious labours; men who cannot bear to hear the very name of\npleasure: so on your side of the argument history is dumb. I have never\nheard of Lycurgus, or Solon, Miltiades, or Themistocles, or Epaminondas\nbeing mentioned in the school of Epicurus; men whose names are constantly\nin the mouth of all the other philosophers. But now, since we have begun\nto deal with this part of the question, our friend Atticus, out of his\ntreasures, will supply us with the names of as many great men as may be\nsufficient for us to bring forward as witnesses. Is it not better to say a\nlittle of these men, than so many volumes about Themista?(36) Let these\nthings be confined to the Greeks: although we have derived philosophy and\nall the liberal sciences from them, still there are things which may be\nallowable for them to do, but not for us. The Stoics are at variance with\nthe Peripatetics. One sect denies that anything is good which is not also\nhonourable: the other asserts that it allows great weight, indeed, by far\nthe most weight, to what is honourable, but still affirms that there are\nin the body also, and around the body, certain positive goods. It is an\nhonourable contest and a splendid discussion. For the whole question is\nabout the dignity of virtue.\n\nBut when one is arguing with philosophers of your school, one is forced to\nhear a great deal about even the obscure pleasures which Epicurus himself\ncontinually mentions. You cannot then, Torquatus, believe me, you cannot\nuphold those principles, if you examine into yourself, and your own\nthoughts and studies. You will, I say, be ashamed of that picture which\nCleanthes was in the habit of drawing with such accuracy in his\ndescription. He used to desire those who came to him as his pupils, to\nthink of Pleasure painted in a picture, clad in beautiful robes, with\nroyal ornaments, and sitting on a throne. He represented all the Virtues\naround her, as her handmaidens, doing nothing else, and thinking nothing\nelse their duty, but to minister to Pleasure, and only just to whisper in\nher ear (if, indeed, that could be made intelligible in a picture) a\nwarning to be on her guard to do nothing imprudent, nothing to offend the\nminds of men, nothing from which any pain could ensue. We, indeed, they\nwould say, we Virtues are only born to act as your slaves; we have no\nother business.\n\nXXII. But Epicurus (for this is your great point) denies that any man who\ndoes not live honourably can live agreeably; as if I cared what he denies\nor what he affirms. What I inquire is, what it is consistent for that man\nto say who places the chief good in pleasure. What reason do you allege\nwhy Thorius, why Chius, why Postumius, why the master of all these men,\nOrata, did not live most agreeably? He himself, as I have already said,\nasserts that the life of men devoted to luxury is not deserving of blame,\nunless they are absolute fools, that is to say, unless they abandon\nthemselves to become slaves to their desires or to their fears. And when\nhe promises them a remedy for both these things, he, in so doing, offers\nthem a licence for luxury. For if you take away these things, then he says\nthat he cannot find anything in the life of debauched men which deserves\nblame. You then, who regulate everything by the standard of pleasure,\ncannot either defend or maintain virtue. For he does not deserve to be\naccounted a virtuous or a just man who abstains from injustice in order to\navoid suffering evil. You know the line, I suppose\u2014\n\n\n    He\u2019s not a pious man whom fear constrains\n    To acts of piety ... a man\u2014\n\n\nAnd nothing can be more true. For a man is not just while he is in a state\nof alarm. And certainly when he ceases to be in fear, he will not be just.\nBut he will not be afraid if he is able to conceal his actions, or if he\nis able, by means of his great riches and power, to support what he has\ndone. And he will certainly prefer being regarded as a good man, though he\nis not one, to being a good man and not being thought one. And so, beyond\nall question, instead of genuine and active justice, you give us only an\neffigy of justice, and you teach us, as it were, to disregard our own\nunvarying conscience, and to go hunting after the fleeting vagabond\nopinions of others.\n\nAnd the same may be said of the other virtues also; the foundation of all\nwhich you place in pleasure, which is like building on water. For what are\nwe to say? Can we call that same Torquatus a brave man? For I am\ndelighted, though I cannot, as you say, bribe you; I am delighted with\nyour family and with your name. And, in truth, I have before my eyes Aulus\nTorquatus,(37) a most excellent man, and one greatly attached to me; and\nboth of you must certainly be aware how great and how eminent his zeal in\nmy behalf was in those times which are well known to every one. And that\nconduct of his would not have been delightful to me, who wish both to be,\nand to be considered, grateful, if I did not see clearly that he was\nfriendly to me for my own sake, not for his own; unless, indeed, you say,\nit was for his own sake, because it is for the interest of every one to\nact rightly. If you say that, we have gained our point. For what we are\naiming at, what we are contending for, is, that duty itself is the reward\nof duty. But that master of yours will not admit this, and requires\npleasure to result from every action as a sort of wages.\n\nHowever, I return to him. If it was for the sake of pleasure that\nTorquatus, when challenged, fought with the Gaul on the Anio, and out of\nhis spoils took his chain and earned his surname, or if it was for any\nother reason but that he thought such exploits worthy of a man, then I do\nnot account him brave. And, indeed, if modesty, and decency, and chastity,\nand, in one word, temperance, is only upheld by the fear of punishment or\ninfamy, and not out of regard to their own sanctity, then what lengths\nwill adultery and debauchery and lust shrink from proceeding to, if there\nis a hope either of escaping detection, or of obtaining impunity or\nlicence?\n\nWhat shall I say more? What is your idea, O Torquatus, of this?\u2014that you,\na man of your name, of your abilities, of your high reputation, should not\ndare to allege in a public assembly what you do, what you think, what you\ncontend for, the standard to which you refer everything, the object for\nthe sake of which you wish to accomplish what you attempt, and what you\nthink best in life. For what can you claim to deserve, when you have\nentered upon your magistracy, and come forward to the assembly, (for then\nyou will have to announce what principles you intend to observe in\nadministering the law, and perhaps, too, if you think fit, you will, as is\nthe ancient custom, say something about your ancestors and\nyourself,)\u2014what, I say, can you claim as your just desert, if you say that\nin that magistracy you will do everything for the sake of pleasure? and\nthat you have never done anything all your life except with a view to\npleasure? Do you think, say you, that I am so mad as to speak in that way\nbefore ignorant people? Well, say it then in the court of justice, or if\nyou are afraid of the surrounding audience, say it in the senate: you will\nnever do so. Why not, except that such language is disgraceful? Do you\nthen think Triarius and me fit people for you to speak before in a\ndisgraceful manner?\n\nXXIII. However, be it so. The name of pleasure certainly has no dignity in\nit, and perhaps we do not exactly understand what is meant by it; for you\nare constantly saying that we do not understand what you mean by the word\npleasure: no doubt it is a very difficult and obscure matter. When you\nspeak of atoms, and spaces between worlds, things which do not exist, and\nwhich cannot possibly exist, then we understand you; and cannot we\nunderstand what pleasure is, a thing which is known to every sparrow? What\nwill you say if I compel you to confess that I not only do know what\npleasure is (for it is a pleasant emotion affecting the senses), but also\nwhat you mean by the word? For at one time you mean by the word the very\nsame thing which I have just said, and you give it the description of\nconsisting in motion, and of causing some variety: at another time you\nspeak of some other highest pleasure, which is susceptible of no addition\nwhatever, but that it is present when every sort of pain is absent, and\nyou call it then a state, not a motion: let that, then, be pleasure. Say,\nin any assembly you please, that you do everything with a view to avoid\nsuffering pain: if you do not think that even this language is\nsufficiently dignified, or sufficiently honourable, say that you will do\neverything during your year of office, and during your whole life, for the\nsake of your own advantage; that you will do nothing except what is\nprofitable to yourself, nothing which is not prompted by a view to your\nown interest. What an uproar do you not suppose such a declaration would\nexcite in the assembly, and what hope do you think you would have of the\nconsulship which is ready for you? And can you follow these principles,\nwhich, when by yourself, or in conversation with your dearest friends, you\ndo not dare to profess and avow openly? But you have those maxims\nconstantly in your mouth which the Peripatetics and Stoics profess. In the\ncourts of justice and in the senate you speak of duty, equity, dignity,\ngood faith, uprightness, honourable actions, conduct worthy of power,\nworthy of the Roman people; you talk of encountering every imaginable\ndanger in the cause of the republic\u2014of dying for one\u2019s country. When you\nspeak in this manner we are all amazed, like a pack of blockheads, and you\nare laughing in your sleeve: for, among all those high-sounding and\nadmirable expressions, pleasure has no place, not only that pleasure which\nyou say consists in motion, and which all men, whether living in cities or\nin the country, all men, in short, who speak Latin, call pleasure, but\neven that stationary pleasure, which no one but your sect calls pleasure\nat all.\n\nXXIV. Take care lest you find yourselves obliged to use our language,\nthough adhering to your own opinions. But if you were to put on a feigned\ncountenance or gait, with the object of appearing more dignified, you\nwould not then be like yourself; and yet are you to use fictitious\nlanguage, and to say things which you do not think, or, as you have one\ndress to wear at home, and another in which you appear in court, are you\nto disguise your opinions in a similar manner, so as to make a parade with\nyour countenance, while you are keeping the truth hidden within? Consider,\nI intreat you, whether this is proper. My opinion is that those are\ngenuine sentiments which are honourable, which are praiseworthy, which are\ncreditable; which a man is not ashamed to avow in the senate, before the\npeople, in every company and every assembly, so that he will be ashamed to\nthink what he is ashamed to say.\n\nBut what room can there be for friendship, or who can be a friend to any\none whom he does not love for his own sake? And what is loving, from which\nverb (_amo_) the very name of friendship (_amicitia_) is derived, but\nwishing a certain person to enjoy the greatest possible good fortune, even\nif none of it accrues to oneself? Still, you say, it is a good thing for\nme to be of such a disposition. Perhaps it may be so; but you cannot be so\nif it is not really your disposition; and how can you be so unless love\nitself has seized hold of you? which is not usually generated by any\naccurate computation of advantage, but is self-produced, and born\nspontaneously from itself. But, you will say, I am guided by prospects of\nadvantage. Friendship, then, will remain just as long as any advantage\nensues from it; and if it be a principle of advantage which is the\nfoundation of friendship, the same will be its destruction. But what will\nyou do, if, as is often the case, advantage takes the opposite side to\nfriendship? Will you abandon it? what sort of friendship is that? Will you\npreserve it? how will that be expedient for you? For you see what the\nrules are which you lay down respecting friendship which is desirable only\nfor the sake of one\u2019s own advantage:\u2014I must take care that I do not incur\nodium if I cease to uphold my friend. Now, in the first place, why should\nsuch conduct incur odium, except because it is disgraceful? But, if you\nwill not desert your friend lest you should incur any disadvantage from so\ndoing, still you will wish that he was dead, to release you from being\nbound to a man from whom you get no advantage. But suppose he not only\nbrings you no advantage, but you even incur loss of property for his sake,\nand have to undertake labours, and to encounter danger of your life; will\nyou not, even then, show some regard for yourself, and recollect that\nevery one is born for himself and for his own pleasures? Will you go bail\nto a tyrant for your friend in a case which may affect your life, as that\nPythagorean(38) did when he became surety to the Tyrant of Sicily? or,\nwhen you are Pylades, will you affirm that you are Orestes, that you may\ndie for your friend? or, if you were Orestes, would you contradict\nPylades, and give yourself up? and, if you could not succeed then, would\nyou intreat that you might be both put to death together?\n\nXXV. You, indeed, O Torquatus, would do all these things. For I do not\nthink that there is anything deserving of great praise, which you would be\nlikely to shrink from out of fear of death or pain: nor is it the question\nwhat is consistent with your nature, but with the doctrines of your\nschool\u2014that philosophy which you defend, those precepts which you have\nlearnt, and which you profess to approve of, utterly overthrow\nfriendship\u2014even though Epicurus should, as indeed he does, extol it to the\nskies. Oh, you will say, but he himself cultivated friendship. As if any\none denied that he was a good, and courteous, and kind-hearted man; the\nquestion in these discussions turns on his genius, and not on his morals.\nGrant that there is such perversity in the levity of the Greeks, who\nattack those men with evil speaking with whom they disagree as to the\ntruth of a proposition. But, although he may have been courteous in\nmaintaining friendships, still, if all this is true, (for I do not affirm\nanything myself), he was not a very acute arguer. Oh, but he convinced\nmany people. And perhaps it was quite right that he should; still, the\ntestimony of the multitude is not of the greatest possible weight; for in\nevery art, or study, or science, as in virtue itself, whatever is most\nexcellent is also most rare. And to me, indeed, the very fact of he\nhimself having been a good man, and of many Epicureans having also been\nsuch, and being to this day faithful in their friendships, and consistent\nthroughout their whole lives, and men of dignified conduct, regulating\ntheir lives, not by pleasure, but by their duty, appears to show that the\npower of what is honourable is greater, and that of pleasure smaller. For\nsome men live in such a manner that their language is refuted by their\nlives; and as others are considered to speak better than they act, so\nthese men seem to me to act better than they speak.\n\nXXVI. However, all this is nothing to the purpose. Let us just consider\nthose things which have been said by you about friendship, and among them\nI fancied that I recognized one thing as having been said by Epicurus\nhimself, namely, that friendship cannot be separated from pleasure, and\nthat it ought on that account to be cultivated, because without it men\ncould not live in safety, and without fear, nor even with any kind of\npleasantness. Answer enough has been given to this argument. You also\nbrought forward another more humane one, invented by these more modern\nphilosophers, and never, as far as I know, advanced by the master himself,\nthat at first, indeed, a friend is sought out with a view to one\u2019s own\nadvantage, but that when intimacy has sprung up, then the man is loved for\nhimself, all hope or idea of pleasure being put out of the question. Now,\nalthough this argument is open to attack on many accounts, still I will\naccept what they grant; for it is enough for me, though not enough for\nthem: for they admit that it is possible for men to act rightly at times,\nwithout any expectation of, or desire to acquire pleasure.\n\nYou also affirmed that some people say that wise men make a kind of treaty\namong themselves, that they shall have the same feelings towards their\nfriends that they entertain for themselves, and that that is possible, and\nis often the case, and that it has especial reference to the enjoyment of\npleasures. If they could make this treaty, they at the same time make that\nother to love equity, moderation, and all the virtues for their own sake,\nwithout any consideration of advantage. But if we cultivate friendships\nfor the sake of their profits, emoluments, and advantages which may be\nderived from them, if there is to be no affection which may make the\nfriendship desirable for its own sake, on its own account, by its own\ninfluences, by itself and for itself, is there any doubt at all that in\nsuch a case we must prefer our farms and estates to our friends? And here\nyou may again quote those panegyrics which have been uttered in most\neloquent language by Epicurus himself, on the subject of friendship. I am\nnot asking what he says, but what he can possibly say which shall be\nconsistent with his own system and sentiments.\n\nFriendship has been sought for the sake of advantage; do you, then, think\nthat my friend Triarius, here, will be more useful to you than your\ngranaries at Puteol? Think of all the circumstances which you are in the\nhabit of recollecting; the protection which friends are to a man. You have\nsufficient protection in yourself, sufficient in the laws, sufficient also\nin moderate friendships. As it is, you cannot be looked upon with\ncontempt; but you will easily avoid odium and unpopularity, for precepts\non that subject are given by Epicurus. And yet you, by employing such\nlarge revenues in purposes of liberality, even without any Pyladean\nfriendship, will admirably defend and protect yourself by the goodwill of\nnumbers. But with whom, then, is a man to share his jests, his serious\nthoughts, as people say, and all his secrets and hidden wishes? With you,\nabove all men; but if that cannot be, why with some tolerably intimate\nfriend. However, grant that all these circumstances are not unreasonable;\nwhat comparison can there be between them and the utility of such large\nsums of money? You see, then, if you measure friendship by the affection\nwhich it engenders, that nothing is more excellent; if by the advantage\nthat is derived from it, then you see that the closest intimacies are\nsurpassed by the value of a productive farm. You must therefore love me,\nmyself, and not my circumstances, if we are to be real friends.\n\nXXVII. But we are getting too prolix in the most self-evident matters;\nfor, as it has been concluded and established that there is no room\nanywhere for either virtues or friendships if everything is referred to\npleasure, there is nothing more which it is of any great importance should\nbe said. And yet, that I may not appear to have passed over any topic\nwithout a reply, I will, even now, say a few words on the remainder of\nyour argument.\n\nSince, then, the whole sum of philosophy is directed to ensure living\nhappily, and since men, from a desire of this one thing, have devoted\nthemselves to this study; but different people make happiness of life to\nconsist in different circumstances; you, for instance, place it in\npleasure; and, in the same manner you, on the other hand, make all\nunhappiness to consist in pain: let us consider, in the first place, what\nsort of thing this happy life of yours is. But you will grant this, I\nthink, that if there is really any such thing as happiness, it ought to be\nwholly in the power of a wise man to secure it; for, if a happy life can\nbe lost, it cannot be happy. For who can feel confident that a thing will\nalways remain firm and enduring in his case, which is in reality fleeting\nand perishable? But the man who distrusts the permanence of his good\nthings, must necessarily fear that some day or other, when he has lost\nthem, he will become miserable; and no man can be happy who is in fear\nabout most important matters. No one, then, can be happy; for a happy life\nis usually called so, not in some part only, but in perpetuity of time;\nand, in fact, life is not said to be happy at all till it is completed and\nfinished. Nor is it possible for any man to be sometimes happy and\nsometimes miserable; for he who thinks it possible that he may become\nmiserable, is certainly not happy. For, when a happy life is once\nattained, it remains as long as the maker of the happy life herself,\nnamely, wisdom; nor does it wait till the last period of a man\u2019s\nexistence, as Herodotus says that Cr\u0153sus was warned by Solon.\n\nBut, as you yourself were saying, Epicurus denies that length of time has\nany influence on making life happy, and that no less pleasure can be felt\nin a short time than would be the case if the pleasure were everlasting.\nNow these statements are most inconsistent. For, when he places the chief\ngood in pleasure, he denies that pleasure can be greater in infinite time,\nthan it can in a finite and moderate period. The man who places all good\nin virtue, has it in his power to say that a happy life is made so by the\nperfection of virtue; for he consistently denies that time can bring any\nincrease to his chief good. But he who thinks that life is made happy by\npleasure, must surely be inconsistent with himself if he denies that\npleasure is increased by length of time: if so, then pain is not either.\nShall we, then, say that all pain is most miserable in proportion as it is\nmost lasting, and yet that duration does not make pleasure more desirable?\nWhy, then, is it that Epicurus always speaks of God as happy and eternal?\nFor, if you only take away his eternity, Jupiter is in no respect more\nhappy than Epicurus; for each of them is in the enjoyment of the chief\ngood, namely, pleasure. Oh, but Epicurus is also liable to pain. That does\nnot affect him at all; for he says that if he were being burnt, he would\nsay, \u201cHow pleasant it is.\u201d In what respect, then, is he surpassed by the\nGod, if he is not surpassed by him because of his eternity? For what good\nhas the God, except the highest degree of pleasure, and that, too,\neverlasting! What, then, is the good of speaking so pompously, if one does\nnot speak consistently? Happiness of life is placed in pleasure of body,\n(I will add of mind also, if you please, as long as that pleasure of the\nmind is derived from the pleasure of the body.) What? who can secure this\npleasure to a wise man in perpetuity? For the circumstances by which\npleasures are generated are not in the power of a wise man; for happiness\ndoes not consist in wisdom itself, but in those things which wisdom\nprovides for the production of pleasure. And all these circumstances are\nexternal; and what is external is liable to accident. And thus fortune is\nmade the mistress of happiness in life,\u2014Fortune, which, Epicurus says, has\nbut little to do with a wise man.\n\nXXVIII. But you will say, Come, these things are trifles. Nature by\nherself enriches the wise man; and, indeed, Epicurus has taught us that\nthe riches of nature are such as can be acquired. This is well said, and I\ndo not object to it; but still these same assertions are inconsistent with\none another. For Epicurus denies there is less pleasure derived from the\npoorest food, from the most despised kinds of meat and drink, than from\nfeasting on the most delicious dishes. Now if he were to assert that it\nmakes no difference as to the happiness of life what food a man ate, I\nwould grant it, I would even praise him for saying so; for he would be\nspeaking the truth; and I know that Socrates, who ranked pleasure as\nnothing at all, said the same thing, namely, that hunger was the best\nseasoning for meat, and thirst for drink. But I do not comprehend how a\nman who refers everything to pleasure, lives like Gallonius, and yet talks\nlike that great man Frugi Piso; nor, indeed, do I believe that what he\nsays is his real opinion. He has said that natural riches can be acquired,\nbecause nature is contented with a little. Certainly, unless you estimate\npleasure at a great value. No less pleasure, says he, is derived from the\nmost ordinary things than from the most valuable. Now to say this, is not\nonly not to have a heart, but not to have even a palate. For they who\ndespise pleasure itself, may be allowed to say that they do not prefer a\nsturgeon to a herring. But the man who places his chief good in pleasure,\nmust judge of everything by his sensations, not by his reason, and must\npronounce those things best which are most pleasant.\n\nHowever, be it so. Let him acquire the greatest possible pleasures, not\nonly at a cheap rate, but, as far as I am concerned, for nothing at all,\nif he can manage it. Let there be no less pleasure in eating a nasturtium,\nwhich Xenophon tells us the Persians used to eat, than in those Syracusan\nbanquets which are so severely blamed by Plato. Let, I say, the\nacquisition of pleasure be as easy as you say it is. What shall we say of\npain? the torments of which are so great that, if at least pain is the\ngreatest of evils, a happy life cannot possibly exist in company with it.\nFor Metrodorus himself, who is almost a second Epicurus, describes a happy\nman in these words. When his body is in good order, and when he is quite\ncertain that it it will be so for the future. Is it possible for any one\nto be certain in what condition his body will be, I do not say a year\nhence, but even this evening? Pain, therefore, which is the greatest of\nevils, will always be dreaded even if it is not present. For it will\nalways be possible that it may be present. But how can any fear of the\ngreatest possible evil exist in a happy life?\n\nOh, says he, Epicurus has handed down maxims according to which we may\ndisregard pain. Surely, it is an absurdity to suppose that the greatest\npossible evil can be disregarded. However, what is the maxim? The greatest\npain, says he, is short-lived. Now, first of all, what do you call\nshort-lived? And, secondly, what do you call the greatest pain? For what\ndo you mean? Cannot extreme pain last for many days? Aye, and for many\nmonths? Unless, indeed, you intend to assert that you mean such pain as\nkills a man the moment it seizes on him. Who is afraid of that pain? I\nwould rather you would lessen that pain by which I have seen that most\nexcellent and kind-hearted man, Cn\u00e6us Octavius, the son of Marcus\nOctavius, my own intimate friend, worn out, and that not once, or for a\nshort time, but very often, and for a long period at once. What agonies, O\nye immortal gods, did that man use to bear, when all his limbs seemed as\nif they were on fire. And yet he did not appear to be miserable, (because\nin truth pain was not the greatest of evils,) but only afflicted. But if\nhe had been immersed in continued pleasure, passing at the same time a\nvicious and infamous life, then he would have been miserable.\n\nXXIX. But when you say that great pains last but a short time, and that if\nthey last long they are always light, I do not understand the meaning of\nyour assertion. For I see that some pains are very great, and also very\ndurable. And there is a better principle which may enable one to endure\nthem, which however you cannot adopt, who do not love what is honourable\nfor its own sake. There are some precepts for, and I may almost say laws\nof, fortitude, which forbid a man to behave effeminately in pain.\nWherefore it should be accounted disgraceful, I do not say to grieve, (for\nthat is at times unavoidable,) but to make those rocks of Lemnos\nmelancholy with such outcries as those of Philoctetes\u2014\n\n\n    Who utters many a tearful note aloud,\n    With ceaseless groaning, howling, and complaint.\n\n\nNow let Epicurus, if he can, put himself in the place of that man\u2014\n\n\n    Whose veins and entrails thus are racked with pain\n    And horrid agony, while the serpent\u2019s bite\n    Spreads its black venom through his shuddering frame.\n\n\nLet Epicurus become Philoctetes. If his pain is sharp it is short. But in\nfact he has been lying in his cave for ten years. If it lasts long it is\nlight, for it grants him intervals of relaxation. In the first place it\ndoes not do so often; and in the second place what sort of relaxation is\nit when the memory of past agony is still fresh, and the fear of further\nagony coming and impending is constantly tormenting him. Let him die, says\nhe. Perhaps that would be the best thing for him; but then what becomes of\nthe argument, that the wise man has always more pleasure than pain? For if\nthat be the case I would have you think whether you are not recommending\nhim a crime, when you advise him to die. Say to him rather, that it is a\ndisgraceful thing for a man to allow his spirit to be crushed and broken\nby pain, that it is shameful to yield to it. For as for your maxim, if it\nis violent it is short, if it lasts long it is slight, that is mere empty\nverbiage. The only real way to mitigate pain is by the application of\nvirtue, of magnanimity, of patience, of courage.\n\nXXX. Listen, that I may not make too wide a digression, to the words of\nEpicurus when dying; and take notice how inconsistent his conduct is with\nhis language. \u201cEpicurus to Hermarchus greeting. I write this letter,\u201d says\nhe, \u201cwhile passing a happy day, which is also the last day of my life. And\nthe pains of my bladder and bowels are so intense that nothing can be\nadded to them which can make them greater.\u201d Here is a man miserable, if\npain is the greatest possible evil. It cannot possibly be denied. However,\nlet us see how he proceeds. \u201cBut still I have to balance this a joy in my\nmind, which I derive from the recollection of my philosophical principles\nand discoveries. But do you, as becomes the goodwill which from your youth\nupwards you have constantly discovered for me and for philosophy, protect\nthe children of Metrodorus.\u201d After reading this, I do not consider the\ndeath of Epaminondas or Leonidas preferable to his. One of whom defeated\nthe Laced\u00e6monians at Mantinea,(39) and finding that he had been rendered\ninsensible by a mortal wound, when he first came to himself, asked whether\nhis shield was safe? When his weeping friends had answered him that it\nwas, he then asked whether the enemy was defeated? And when he received to\nthis question also the answer which he wished, he then ordered the spear\nwhich was sticking in him to be pulled out. And so, losing quantities of\nblood, he died in the hour of joy and victory.\n\nBut Leonidas, the king of the Laced\u00e6monians, put himself and those three\nhundred men, whom he had led from Sparta, in the way of the enemy of\nThermopyl\u00e6,(40) when the alternative was a base flight, or a glorious\ndeath. The deaths of generals are glorious, but philosophers usually die\nin their beds. But still Epicurus here mentions what, when dying, he\nconsidered great credit to himself. \u201cI have,\u201d says he, \u201ca joy to\ncounterbalance these pains.\u201d I recognise in these words, O Epicurus, the\nsentiments of a philosopher, but still you forgot what you ought to have\nsaid. For, in the first place, if those things be true, in the\nrecollection of which you say you rejoice, that is to say, if your\nwritings and discoveries are true, then you cannot rejoice. For you have\nno pleasure here which you can refer to the body. But you have constantly\nasserted that no one ever feels joy or pain except with reference to his\nbody. \u201cI rejoice,\u201d says he, \u201cin the past.\u201d In what that is past? If you\nmean such past things as refer to the body, then I see that you are\ncounterbalancing your agonies with your reason, and not with your\nrecollection of pleasures which you have felt in the body. But if you are\nreferring to your mind, then your denial of there being any joy of the\nmind which cannot be referred to some pleasure of the body, must be false.\nWhy, then, do you recommend the children of Metrodorus to Hermarchus? In\nthat admirable exercise of duty, in that excellent display of your good\nfaith, for that is how I look upon it, what is there that you refer to the\nbody?\n\nXXXI. You may twist yourself about in every direction as you please,\nTorquatus, but you will not find in this excellent letter anything written\nby Epicurus which is in harmony and consistent with the rules he laid\ndown. And so he is convicted by himself, and his writings are upset by his\nown virtue and goodness. For that recommendation of those children, that\nrecollection of them, and affectionate friendship for them, that attention\nto the most important duties at the last gasp, indicates that honesty\nwithout any thought of personal advantage was innate in the man; that it\ndid not require the invitation of pleasure, or the allurements of\nmercenary rewards. For what greater evidence can we require that those\nthings which are honourable and right are desirable of themselves for\ntheir own sake, than the sight of a dying man so anxious in the discharge\nof such important duties? But, as I think that letter deserving of all\ncommendation of which I have just given you a literal translation,\n(although it was in no respect consistent with the general system of that\nphilosopher,) so also I think that his will is inconsistent not only with\nthe dignity of a philosopher, but even with his own sentiments. For he\nwrote often, and at great length, and sometimes with brevity and suitable\nlanguage, in that book which I have just named, that death had nothing to\ndo with us; for that whatever was dissolved was void of sensation, and\nwhatever was void of sensation had nothing whatever to do with us. Even\nthis might have been expressed better and more elegantly. For when he lays\ndown the position that what has been dissolved is void of sensation, that\nis such an expression that it is not very plain what he means by the word\ndissolved. However, I understand what he really does mean. But still I ask\nwhy, when every sensation is extinguished by dissolution, that is to say,\nby death, and when there is nothing else whatever that has any connexion\nwith us, he should still take such minute and diligent care to enjoin\nAmynomachus and Timocrates, his heirs, to furnish every year what in the\nopinion of Hermarchus shall be enough to keep his birthday in the month\nGamelion, with all proper solemnity. And also, shall every month, on the\ntwentieth day of the month, supply money enough to furnish a banquet for\nthose men who have studied philosophy with him, in order that his memory,\nand that of Metrodorus, may be duly honoured. Now I cannot deny that these\ninjunctions are in keeping with the character of a thoroughly accomplished\nand amiable man; but still I utterly deny that it is inconsistent with the\nwisdom of a philosopher, especially of a natural philosopher, which is the\ncharacter he claims for himself, to think that there is such a day as the\nbirthday of any one. What? Can any day which has once passed recur over\nagain frequently. Most indubitably not; or can any day like it recur? Even\nthat is impossible, unless it may happen after an interval of many\nthousand years, that there may be a return of all the stars at the same\nmoment to the point from which they set out. There is, therefore, no such\nthing as anybody\u2019s birthday. But still it is considered that there is. As\nif I did not know that. But even if there be, is it to be regarded after a\nman\u2019s death? And is a man to give injunctions in his will that it shall be\nso, after he has told you all, as if with the voice of an oracle, that\nthere is nothing which concerns us at all after death? These things are\nvery inconsistent in a man who, in his mind, had travelled over\ninnumerable worlds and boundless regions, which were destitute of all\nlimits and boundaries. Did Democritus ever say such a thing as this? I\nwill pass over every one else, and call him only as a witness whom\nEpicurus himself followed to the exclusion of others.\n\nBut if a day did deserve to be kept, which was it more fitting to observe,\nthe day on which a man was born, or that on which he became wise? A man,\nyou will say, could not have become wise unless he had been born. And, on\nthe same principle, he could not if his grandmother had never been born.\nThe whole business, Torquatus, is quite out of character for a learned man\nto wish to have the recollection of his name celebrated with banquets\nafter his death. I say nothing of the way in which you keep these days,\nand to how many jokes from witty men you expose yourselves. There is no\nneed of quarrelling. I only say that it would have been more becoming in\nyou to keep Epicurus\u2019s birthday, than in him to leave injunctions in his\nwill that it should be kept.\n\nXXXII. However, to return to our subject, (for while we were talking of\npain we digressed to that letter of his,) we may now fairly come to this\nconclusion. The man who is in the greatest evil, while he is in it, is not\nhappy. But the wise man is always happy, and is also occasionally in pain.\nTherefore, pain is not the greatest evil. What kind of doctrine, then, is\nthis, that goods which are past are not lost to a wise man, but that he\nought not to remember past evils. First of all, is it in our power to\ndecide what we will remember. When Simonides, or some one else, offered to\nThemistocles to teach him the art of memory, \u201cI would rather,\u201d said he,\n\u201cthat you would teach me that of forgetfulness; for I even now recollect\nwhat I would rather not; but I cannot forget what I should like to.\u201d This\nwas a very sensible answer. But still the fact is that it is the act of a\nvery arbitrary philosopher to forbid a man to recollect. It seems to me a\ncommand very much in the spirit of your ancestor, Manlius, or even worse,\nto command what it is impossible for me to do. What will you say if the\nrecollection of past evils is even pleasant? For some proverbs are more\ntrue than your dogmas. Nor does Euripides speak all when he says, I will\ngive it you in Latin, if I can, but you all know the Greek line\u2014\n\n\n    Sweet is the memory of sorrows past.(41)\n\n\nHowever, let us return to the consideration of past goods. And if you were\nto utter such maxims as might be capable of consoling Caius Marius, and\nenabling him when banished, indigent, and up to his neck in a marsh, to\nrelieve his anguish by the recollection of his past trophies, I would\nlisten to you, and approve of all you could say. Nor, indeed, can the\nhappiness of a philosopher be complete or continue to the end, if all the\nadmirable discoveries which he has made, and all his virtuous actions, are\nto be lost by his own forgetfulness. But, in your case, you assert that\nthe recollection of pleasures which have been felt makes life happy, and\nof such pleasures too, as affect the body. For if there are any other\npleasures, then it is incorrect to say that all the pleasures of the mind\noriginate in its connexion with the body.\n\nBut if pleasures felt by the body, even when they are past, can give\npleasure, then I do not understand why Aristotle should turn the\ninscription on the tomb of Sardanapalus into so much ridicule; in which\nthe king of Assyria boasts that he has taken with him all his lascivious\npleasures. For, says Aristotle, how could those things which even while he\nwas alive he could not feel a moment longer than while he was actually\nenjoying them, possibly remain to him after he was dead? The pleasure,\nthen, of the body is lost, and flies away at the first moment, and oftener\nleaves behind reasons for repenting of it than for recollecting it.\nTherefore, Africanus is happier when addressing his country in this\nmanner\u2014\n\n\n    Cease, Rome, to dread your foes....\n\n\nAnd in the rest of his admirable boast\u2014\n\n\n    For you have trophies by my labour raised.\n\n\nHe is rejoicing here in his labours which are past. But you would bid him\nexult in past pleasures. He traces back his feelings to things which had\nnever had any reference to his body. You cling to the body to the\nexclusion of everything else.\n\nXXXIII. But how can that proposition possibly be maintained which you\nurge, namely, that all the pleasures and pains of the mind are connected\ninseparably with the pleasures and pains of the body? Is there, then,\nnothing which ever delights you, (I know whom I am addressing,) is there\nnothing, O Torquatus, which ever delights you for its own sake? I say\nnothing about dignity, honourableness, the beauty of virtue, which I have\nmentioned before. I will put all these things aside as of less\nconsequence. But is there anything when you are writing, or reading a\npoem, or an oration, when you are investigating the history of exploits or\ncountries, or anything in a statue, or picture, or pleasant place; in\nsports, in hunting, or in a villa of Lucullus, (for if I were to say of\nyour own, you would have a loophole to escape through, saying that that\nhad connexion with your body,) is there any of all these things, I say,\nwhich you can refer to your body, or do they not please you, if they\nplease you at all, for their own sake?\n\nYou must either be the most obstinate of men, if you persist in referring\nthese things, which I have just mentioned, to the body, or else you must\nabandon Epicurus\u2019s whole theory of pleasure, if you admit that they have\nno connexion with it.\n\nBut as for your argument, that the pleasures and pains of the mind are\ngreater than those of the body, because the mind is a partaker of three\ntimes,(42) but nothing but what is present is felt by the body; how can it\npossibly be allowed that a man who rejoices for my sake rejoices more than\nI do myself? The pleasure of the mind originates in the pleasure of the\nbody, and the pleasure of the mind is greater than that of the body. The\nresult, then, is, that the party who congratulates the other is more\nrejoiced than he whom he congratulates. But while you are trying to make\nout the wise man to be happy, because he is sensible of the greatest\npleasures in his mind, and, indeed, of pleasures which are in all their\nparts greater than those which he is sensible of in his body, you do not\nsee what really happens. For he will also feel the pains of the mind to be\nin every respect greater than those of the body. And so he must\noccasionally be miserable, whom you endeavour to represent as being always\nhappy. Nor, indeed, will it be possible for you ever to fill up the idea\nof perfect and uninterrupted happiness while you refer everything to\npleasure and pain.\n\nOn which account, O Torquatus, we must find out something else which is\nthe chief good of man. Let us grant pleasure to the beasts, to whom you\noften appeal as witnesses on the subject of the chief good. What will you\nsay, if even the beasts do many things under the guidance of their various\nnatures, partly out of indulgence to other beasts, and at the cost of\ntheir own labour, as, for instance, it is very visible in bringing forth\nand rearing their young, that they have some other object in view besides\ntheir own pleasure? and partly, too, when they rejoice in running about\nand travelling; and some assemble in herds, in such a manner as to imitate\nin some degree a human state. In some species of birds we see certain\nindications of affection, knowledge, and memory; in many we see what even\nlooks like a regular system of action. Shall there, then, be in beasts\nsome images of human virtues, quite unconnected with pleasure, and shall\nthere be no virtue in man except for the sake of pleasure? and though he\nis as superior as can be to all the other animals, shall we still affirm\nthat he has no peculiar attributes given to him by nature?\n\nXXXIV. But we, if indeed all things depend on pleasure, are greatly\nsurpassed by beasts, for which the earth, of her own accord, produces\nvarious sorts of food, in every kind of abundance, without their taking\nany trouble about it; while the same necessaries are scarcely (sometimes I\nmay even use stronger language still) supplied to us, when we seek them\nwith great labour. Nor is it possible that I should ever think that the\nchief good was the same in the case of a beast and a man. For what can be\nthe use of having so many means and appliances for the carrying out of the\nmost excellent arts,\u2014what can be the use of such an assemblage of most\nhonourable pursuits, of such a crowd of virtues, if they are all got\ntogether for no other end but pleasure? As if, when Xerxes, with such vast\nfleets, such countless troops of both cavalry and infantry, had bridged\nover the Hellespont and dug through Mount Athos, had walked across the\nsea, and sailed(43) over the land, if, when he had invaded Greece with\nsuch irresistible violence, any one had asked him for the cause of\ncollecting so vast an army, and waging so formidable a war, and he had\nreplied that he wished to get some honey from Hymettus, certainly he would\nhave been thought to have undertaken such an enterprise for an\ninsufficient cause. And in like manner, if we were to say that a wise man,\nfurnished and provided with numerous and important virtues and\naccomplishments, not, indeed, travelling like him over sea on foot, and\nover mountains with his fleet, but embracing the whole heaven, all the\nearth, and the universal sea with his mind, had nothing in view but\npleasure, we might say that he, too, was taking a great deal of trouble\nfor a little honey.\n\nBelieve me, Torquatus, we were born for more lofty and noble ends; and you\nmay see this, not only by considering the parts of the mind, in which\nthere is the recollection of a countless number of things, (and from\nthence proceed infinite conjectures as to the consequences of them, not\nvery far differing from divination; there is also in them shame, which is\nthe regulator of desire, and the faithful guardianship of justice, so\nnecessary to human society, and a firm enduring contempt for pain and\ndeath, shown in the enduring of labours and the encountering of dangers.)\nAll these things, I say, are in the mind. But I would have you consider\nalso the limbs and the senses, which, like the other parts of the body,\nwill appear to you to be not only the companions of the virtues, but also\ntheir slaves. What will you say, if many things in the body itself appear\nto deserve to be preferred to pleasure? such as strength, health,\nactivity, beauty? And if this is the case, how many qualities of the mind\nwill likewise seem so? For in the mind, the old philosophers\u2014those most\nlearned men\u2014thought that there was something heavenly and divine. But if\nthe chief good consisted in pleasure, as you say, then it would be natural\nthat we should wish to live day and night in the midst of pleasure,\nwithout any interval or interruption, while all our senses were, as it\nwere, steeped in and influenced wholly by pleasure. But who is there, who\nis worthy of the name of a man, who would like to spend even the whole of\none day in that kind of pleasure? The Cyrenaic philosophers, indeed, would\nnot object. Your sect is more modest in this respect, though their\u2019s is\nperhaps the more sincere.\n\nHowever, let us contemplate with our minds, not, indeed, these most\nimportant arts, which are so valuable, that those who were ignorant of\nthem were accounted useless by our ancestors; but I ask you whether you\nthink that (I will not say Homer, or Archilochus, or Pindar, but) Phidias,\nor Polycletus, or Zeuxis directed the whole of their skill to cause more\npleasure. Shall, then, an artist propose to himself a higher aim, with\nreference to the beauty of figures, than a virtuous citizen with reference\nto the nobleness of action? But what other cause can there be for such a\nblunder being so widely and extensively diffused, except that he who\ndetermines that pleasure is the chief good, deliberates not with that part\nof his mind in which reason and wisdom dwell, but with his desires, that\nis to say, with the most trifling portion of his mind. For I put the\nquestion to you yourself, if there are gods, as you think that there are,\nhow have they the power of being happy, when they are not able to feel any\npleasure in their bodies? or if they are happy, though destitute of that\nkind of pleasure, why do you refuse to recognize the possibility of a\nsimilar exertion of intellect on the part of a wise man?\n\nXXXV. Read, O Torquatus, the panegyrics, not of those men who have been\npraised by Homer, not the encomiums passed on Cyrus, or Agesilaus, or\nAristides, or Themistocles, or Philip, or Alexander; but read the praises\nof our own fellow-countrymen, of the heroes of your own family. You will\nnot find any one praised on the ground of having been a cunning contriver,\nor procurer, of pleasure. The eulogies on their monuments signify no such\nthing; like this one which is at one of our gates, \u201cIn whose favour many\nnations unanimously agree that he was the noblest man of the nation.\u201d Do\nwe think that many nations judged of Calatinus, that he was the noblest\nman of the nation, because he was the most skilful in the devising of\npleasures? Shall we, then, say that there is great hope and an excellent\ndisposition in those young men whom we think likely to consult their own\nadvantage, and to see what will be profitable to themselves? Do we not see\nwhat a great confusion of everything would ensue? what great disorder?\nSuch a doctrine puts an end to all beneficence, to all gratitude, which\nare the great bonds of agreement. For if you do good to any one for your\nown sake, that is not to be considered a kindness, but only usury; nor\ndoes any gratitude appear due to the man who has benefited another for his\nown sake.\n\nBut if pleasure is the dominant power, it is inevitable that all the\nvirtues must be trampled under foot. For there are many kinds of base\nconduct, which, unless honourableness is naturally to have the most\ninfluence, must, or at least it is not easy to explain why they should\nnot, overcome a wise man; and, not to go hunting for too many instances,\nit is quite clear, that virtue deservedly praised, must cut off all the\napproaches of pleasure.\n\nDo not, now, expect any more arguments from me. Look, Torquatus, yourself,\ninto your own mind; turn the question over in all your thoughts; examine\nyourself, whether you would prefer to pass your life in the enjoyment of\nperpetual pleasure, in that tranquillity which you have often felt, free\nfrom all pain, with the addition also of that blessing which you often\nspeak of as an addition, but which is, in fact, an impossible one, the\nabsence of all fear; or, while deserving well of all nations, and bearing\nassistance and safety to all who are in need of it, to encounter even the\ndistresses of Hercules. For so our ancestors, even in the case of a god,\ncalled labours which were unavoidable by the most melancholy name,\ndistresses.(44) I would require you, and compel you to answer me, if I\nwere not afraid that you might say that Hercules himself performed those\nexploits, which he performed with the greatest labour for the safety of\nnations, for the sake of pleasure.\n\nAnd when I had said this,\u2014I know, said Torquatus, who it is that I have to\nthank for this; and although I might be able to do something myself, yet I\nam still more glad to find my friends better prepared than I am.\n\nI suppose you mean Syro and Philodemus, excellent citizens and most\nlearned men. You are right, said he. Come, then, said I. But it would be\nmore fair for Triarius to give some opinion on this discussion of ours.\nIndeed, said he smiling, it would be very unfair, at least on this\nsubject: for you manage the question more gently; but this man attacks us\nafter the fashion of the Stoics. Then Triarius said, Hereafter I will\nspeak more boldly still: for I shall have all these arguments which I have\njust heard ready to my hand; and I will not begin before I see you\nequipped by those philosophers whom you mention.\n\nAnd when this had been said, we made an end both of our walk and of our\ndiscussion.\n\n\n\n\nThird Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n\n\nI. I think, Brutus, that Pleasure, if she were to speak for herself, and\nhad not such pertinacious advocates, would yield to Virtue, as having been\nvanquished in the preceding book. In truth, she would be destitute of\nshame if she were to resist Virtue any longer, or persist in preferring\nwhat is pleasant to what is honourable, or were to contend that a tickling\npleasure, as it were, of the body, and the joy arising out of it, is of\nmore importance than dignity of mind and consistency. So that we may\ndismiss Pleasure, and desire her to confine herself within her own\nboundaries, so that the strictness of our discussions may not be hindered\nby her allurements and blandishments. For we have now to inquire what that\nchief good is which we are anxious to discover; since pleasure is quite\nunconnected with it, and since nearly the same arguments can be urged\nagainst those who have considered freedom from pain as the greatest of\ngoods.\n\nNor, indeed, can anything be admitted to be the chief good which is\ndestitute of virtue, to which nothing can be superior. Therefore, although\nin that discourse which was held with Torquatus we were not remiss, still\nwe have now a much sharper contest before us with the Stoics. For the\nstatements which are made about pleasure are not expressed with any great\nacuteness or refinement. For they who defend it are not skilful in\narguing, nor have those who take the opposite side a very difficult cause\nto oppose. Even Epicurus himself says, that one ought not even to argue\nabout pleasure, because the decision respecting it depends on the\nsensations, so that it is sufficient for us to be warned respecting it,\nand quite unnecessary for us to be instructed. And on this account, that\nprevious discussion of ours was a simple one on both sides; for there was\nnothing involved or intricate in the discourse of Torquatus, and my own\nlanguage, as it seems to me, was very clear. But you are not ignorant what\na subtle, or I might rather say, thorny kind of arguing it is which is\nemployed by the Stoics. And if it is so among the Greeks, much more so is\nit among us, who are forced even to invent words, and to give new names to\nnew things. And this is what no one who is even moderately learned will\nwonder at, when he considers that in every art which is not in common and\nordinary use, there is a great variety of new names, as appellations are\nforced to be given to everything about which each art is conversant.\nTherefore, both dialecticians and natural philosophers use those words\nwhich are not common in the ordinary conversation of the Greeks; and\ngeometricians, musicians, and grammarians, all speak after a peculiar\nfashion of their own. And even the rhetoricians, whose art is a forensic\none, and wholly directed to the people, still in giving their lessons use\nwords which are, as it were, their peculiar private property.\n\nII. And, without dwelling on the case of these liberal and gentlemanly\nprofessions, even artisans would not be capable of exercising their trades\nproperly if they did not use technical words, which are not understood by\nus, though in common use among them. Agriculture, also, which is as\ndistant as can be from all polite refinement, still marks those matters\nwith which it is conversant by new names. And much more is this course\nallowable in a philosopher; for philosophy is the art of life, and a man\nwho is discussing that cannot borrow his language from the forum,\u2014although\nthere is no school of philosophers which has made so many innovations as\nthe Stoics. Zeno too, their chief, was not so much a discoverer of new\nthings as of new words. But if, even in that language which most people\nconsider richer than our own, Greece has permitted the most learned men to\nuse words not in ordinary use about subjects which are equally unusual,\nhow much more ought the same licence to be granted to us, who are now\nventuring to be the very first of our countrymen to touch on such matters?\nAnd though we have often said,\u2014and that, too, in spite of some complaints\nnot only of the Greeks, but of those men also who would prefer being\naccounted Greeks to being thought our own countrymen,\u2014that we are so far\nfrom being surpassed by the Greeks in the richness and copiousness of our\nlanguage, that we are even superior to them in that particular; we must\nlabour to establish this point, not only in our own national arts, but in\nthose too which we have derived from them. Although, since they have\nbecome established by habit, we may fairly consider those words as our own\nwhich, in accordance with ancient custom, we use as Latin words; such as\n_philosophia_ itself, _rhetorica_, _dialectica_, _grammatica_,\n_geometria_, _musica_,\u2014although they could, no doubt, be translated into\nmore genuine Latin.\n\nEnough, however, of the names of things. But with respect to the things\nthemselves, I am often afraid, Brutus, that I may be blamed when I am\nwriting to you, who have made so much progress, not only in philosophy,\nbut in the most excellent kind of philosophy. And if I wrote as if I were\ngiving you any instruction, I should deserve to be blamed; but such\nconceit is far from me. Nor do I send letters to you under the idea of\nmaking you acquainted with what is thoroughly known to you before; but\nbecause I am fond of supporting myself by your name, and because also I\nconsider you the most candid critic and judge of those studies which both\nyou and I apply ourselves to in common. I know, therefore, that you will\npay careful attention to what I write, as is your wont, and that you will\ndecide on the dispute which took place between your uncle\u2014a most\nheavenly-minded and admirable man\u2014and myself.\n\nFor when I was at my villa near Tusculum, and was desirous to make use of\nsome books in the library of the young Lucullus, I went one day to his\nhouse, in order to take away (as I was in the habit of doing) the books\nwhich I wanted. And when I had arrived there, I found Marcus Cato, whom I\ndid not know to be there, sitting in the library, surrounded by a number\nof the books of the Stoics. For he had, as you know, a boundless desire\nfor reading, one which was quite insatiable,\u2014so much so, indeed, that he\nwas not afraid of the causeless reproaches of the common people, but was\naccustomed to continue reading even in the senate-house itself, while the\nsenate was assembling, without, however, at all relaxing in his attention\nto the affairs of the republic. And now, being in the enjoyment of\ncomplete leisure, and being surrounded by a great abundance of such\ntreasures, he appeared to be completely gorging himself with books, if I\nmay use such an expression about so respectable a subject. And as it so\nhappened that neither of us expected to see the other, he at once rose up\non my entrance; and, after the first salutations which are usual at such a\nmeeting, What object has brought you here? said he; for I presume you are\ncome from your own villa, and if I had known that you had been there, I\nshould have come myself to see you. I only, said I, left the city\nyesterday after the commencement of the games, and got home in the\nevening. But my object in coming here was to take some books away with me;\nand it will be a pity, Cato, if our friend Lucullus does not some day or\nother become acquainted with all these treasures; for I would rather have\nhim take delight in these books than in all the rest of the furniture of\nthe villa. For he is a youth I am very anxious about; although, indeed, it\nis more peculiarly your business to take care that he shall be so educated\nas to do credit to his father, and to our friend C\u00e6pio, and to you who are\nsuch a near relation of his.(45) But I myself have some right to feel an\ninterest in him; for I am influenced by my recollection of his\ngrandfather,\u2014and you well know what a regard I had for C\u00e6pio, who, in my\nopinion, would now be one of the first men of the city if he were alive;\nand I also have Lucullus himself always before my eyes,\u2014a man not only\nexcelling in every virtue, but connected with me both by friendship and a\ngeneral resemblance of inclination and sentiment. You do well, said he, to\nretain a recollection of those persons, both of whom recommended their\nchildren to your care by their wills, and you are right too to be attached\nto this youth. And as for your calling it my peculiar business, I will not\ndecline the office, but I claim you for my partner in the duty. I will say\nthis also, that the boy has already shown me many indications both of\nmodesty and of ability; but you see how young he is as yet. To be sure I\ndo, said I; but even now he ought to receive a tincture of those\naccomplishments which, if he drinks of them now while he is young, will\nhereafter make him more ready for more important business. And so we will\noften talk over this matter anxiously together, and we will act in\nconcert. However, let us sit down, says he, if you please. So we sat down.\n\nIII. Then Cato said: But now, what books in the world are they that you\nare looking for here, when you have such a library at home? I want, said\nI, some of the Aristotelian Commentaries, which I know are here; and I\ncame to carry them off, to read when I have leisure, which is not, as you\nknow, very often the case with me. How I wish, said he, that you had an\ninclination towards our Stoic sect; for certainly it is natural for you,\nif it ever was so for any one, to think nothing a good except virtue. May\nI not, I replied, rejoin that it would be natural for you, as your opinion\nin reality is the same as mine, to forbear giving new names to things? for\nour principles are the same,\u2014it is only our language that is at variance.\nIndeed, said he, our principles are not the same at all; for I can never\nagree to your calling anything desirable except what is honourable, and to\nyour reckoning such things among the goods,\u2014and, by so doing,\nextinguishing honourableness, which is, as it were, the light of virtue,\nand utterly upsetting virtue herself. Those are all very fine words, said\nI, O Cato; but do you not see that all those pompous expressions are\nshared by you in common with Pyrrho and Aristo, who think all things\nequal? And I should like to know what your opinion of them is. Mine? said\nhe; do you want to know what I think of them? I think that those men whom\nwe have either heard of from our ancestors, or seen ourselves, to be good,\nbrave, just, and moderate in the republic,\u2014those who, following nature\nherself, without any particular learning or system, have done many\npraiseworthy actions, have been educated by nature herself better than\nthey could have been educated by philosophy, if they had adopted any other\nphilosophy except that which ranks nothing whatever among the goods except\nwhat is honourable, and nothing among the evils except what is\ndisgraceful. As for all other systems of philosophy, they differ entirely\nin their estimate of good and evil; but still I consider no one of them\nwhich classes anything destitute of virtue among either the goods or the\nevils, as being of any use to men, or as uttering any sentiment by which\nwe may become better; but I think that they all tend rather to deprave\nnature herself. For if this point be not conceded, that that alone is good\nwhich is honourable, it follows that it must be impossible to prove that\nlife is made happy by virtue. And if that be the case, then I do not see\nwhy any attention should be bestowed on philosophy; for if a wise man can\nbe miserable, then of a truth I do not consider that virtue, which is\naccounted so glorious and memorable a thing, of any great value.\n\nIV. All that you have been saying, Cato, I replied, you might say if you\nagreed with Pyrrho or Aristo; for you are not ignorant that they consider\nthat honourableness not only the chief good, but also (as you yourself\nmaintain) the only good. And if this is the case, the consequence which I\nsee you aim at follows necessarily, that all wise men are always happy. Do\nyou then praise these men, and do you think that we ought to follow their\nopinion? By no means, said he; for as this is a peculiar attribute of\nvirtue to make its selection of those things which are in accordance with\nnature, those who have made all things equal in such a manner as to\nconsider all things on either side perfectly indifferent, so as to leave\nno room for any selection, have utterly put an end to virtue. You say\nright, said I; but I ask you whether you, too, must not do the same thing,\nwhen you say that there is nothing good which is not right and honourable,\nand so put an end to all the difference between other things? That would\nbe the case, said he, if I did put an end to it; but I deny the fact\u2014I\nleave it. How so, said I? If virtue alone,\u2014if that thing alone which you\ncall honourable, right, praiseworthy, and creditable, (for it will be more\neasily seen what is the character that you ascribe to it, if it be pointed\nout by many words tending to the same point,)\u2014if, I say, that is the sole\ngood, what else will there be for you to follow? And, on the other hand,\nif nothing is evil except what is disgraceful, dishonourable, unbecoming,\nwrong, flagitious, and base, (to make this also manifest by giving it many\nnames,) what else will there be which you can say ought to be avoided?\n\nI will not, said he, reply to each point of your question, as you are not,\nas I suspect, ignorant of what I am going to say, but seeking rather to\nfind something to carp at in my brief answer: I will rather, since we have\nplenty of time, explain to you, unless you think it foreign to the\nsubject, the whole opinion of Zeno and the Stoics on the matter. Very far\nfrom foreign to the subject, said I; indeed, your explanations will be of\ngreat service in elucidating to me the points about which I am inquiring.\nLet us try, then, said he, although this system of the Stoics has in it\nsomething rather difficult and obscure; for, as formerly, when these\nmatters were discussed in the Greek language, the very names of things\nappeared strange which have now become sanctioned by daily use, what do\nyou think will be the case when we are discussing them in Latin? Still,\nsaid I, we must do so; for if Zeno might take the liberty when he had\ndiscovered anything not previously common, to fix on it a name that was\nlikewise unprecedented, why may not Cato take the same? Nor will it be\nnecessary for you to render what he has said word for word, as translators\nare in the habit of doing who have no command of language of their own,\nwhenever there is a word in more ordinary use which has the same meaning.\nI indeed myself am in the habit, if I cannot manage it any other way, of\nusing many words to express what the Greeks have expressed in one; and yet\nI think that we ought to be allowed to use a Greek word on occasions when\nwe cannot find a Latin one, and to employ such terms as _proegmena_ and\n_apoproegmena_, just as freely as we say _ephippia_ and _acratophori_,\nthough it may be sufficient to translate these two particular words by\n_preferred_ and _rejected_. I am much obliged to you, said he, for your\nhint; and I will in preference use those Latin terms which you have just\nmentioned; and in other cases, too, you shall come to my assistance if you\nsee me in difficulties. I will do so, said I, with great goodwill; but\nfortune favours the bold. So make the attempt, I beg of you; for what more\ndivine occupation can we have?\n\nV. Those philosophers, said he, whose system I approve of, consider that\nas soon as an animal is born, (for this is where we must begin,) he is\ninstinctively induced and excited to preserve himself and his existing\ncondition, and to feel attachment to those things which have a tendency to\npreserve that condition; and to feel an abhorrence of dissolution, and of\nthose circumstances which appear to be pregnant with dissolution. And they\nprove that this is the case, because, before either pleasure or pain has\naffected it, even while it is very little, it seeks what is salutary, and\nshuns the contrary: and this would not be the case if they were not fond\nof their condition, and afraid of dissolution; and it would not be\npossible for them to seek any particular thing if they had not some sense\nof themselves, and if that did not influence them to love themselves and\nwhat belongs to them. From which it ought to be understood that it is from\nthe animal itself that the principle of self-love in it is derived. But\namong these natural principles of self-love most of the Stoics do not\nadmit that pleasure ought to be classed; and I entirely agree with them,\nto avoid the many discreditable things which must ensue if nature should\nappear to have placed pleasure among those things which are the first\nobjects of desire. But it appears to be proof enough why we naturally love\nthose things which are by nature placed in the first rank, that there is\nno one, who, when either alternative is equally in his power, would not\nprefer to have all the parts of his body in a suitable and entire\ncondition, rather than impaired by use, or in any particular distorted or\ndepraved.\n\nBut as for the knowledge of things\u2014or if you do not so much approve of\nthis word _cognitio_, or find it less intelligible, we will call it\n\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03bb\u03b7\u03c8\u03b9\u03c2\u2014that we think is naturally to be acquired for its own sake,\nbecause it contains something which has, as it were, embraced and seized\nupon truth. And this is perceptible even in infants; whom we see amused if\nthey have succeeded in finding out anything themselves by reason, even\nthough it may be of no service whatever to them. And moreover, we consider\narts worth attending to on their own account, both because there is in\nthem something worth acceptance, and also because they depend upon\nknowledge, and contain in themselves something which proceeds on system\nand method. But I think that we are more averse to assent on false grounds\nthan to anything else which is contrary to nature. Now of the limbs, that\nis to say, of the parts of the body, some appear to have been given to us\nby nature because of the use which, they are of to us, as, for instance,\nthe hands, legs, and feet, and also those internal organs of the body, of\nwhich I may leave it to the physicians to explain the exceeding\nusefulness; but others with no view to utility, but for ornament as it\nwere, as the tail is given to the peacock, plumage of many colours to the\ndove, breasts and a beard to man. Perhaps you will say this is but a dry\nenumeration; for these things are, as it were, the first elements of\nnature, which cannot well have any richness of language employed upon\nthem; nor indeed am I thinking of displaying any; but when one is speaking\nof more important matters, then the subject itself hurries on the\nlanguage: and then one\u2019s discourse is at the same time more impressive and\nmore ornate. It is as you say, said I; but still everything which is said\nin a lucid manner about a good subject appears to me to be said well. And\nto wish to speak of subjects of that kind in a florid style is childish;\nbut to be able to explain them with clearness and perspicuity, is a token\nof a learned and intelligent man.\n\nVI. Let us then proceed, said he, since we have digressed from these first\nprinciples of nature, which everything which follows ought to be in\nharmony with. But this is the first division of the subject. A thing is\nsaid to be estimable: for so we may, I think, call that which is either\nitself in accordance with nature, or else which is the efficient cause of\nsomething of such a character that it is worthy of being selected because\nit has in it some weight worth appreciating, which he calls \u1f00\u03c7\u03af\u03b1; and, on\nthe other hand, something not estimable, which is the contrary of the\npreceding. The first principles, therefore, being laid down, that those\nthings which are according to nature are to be chosen for their own sakes,\nand those which are contrary to it are in like manner to be rejected; the\nfirst duty (for that is how I translate the word \u03ba\u03b1\u03b8\u1fc6\u03ba\u03bf\u03bd) is, for a man to\npreserve himself in his natural condition; next to that, to maintain those\nthings which are in accordance with nature, and reject what is opposite to\nit; and when this principle of selection and rejection has been\ndiscovered, then follows selection in accordance with duty; and then that\nthird kind, which is perpetual, and consistent to the end, and\ncorresponding to nature, in which there first begins to be a proper\nunderstanding of what there is which can be truly called good. For the\nfirst attraction of man is to those things which are according to nature.\nBut as soon as he has received that intelligence, or perhaps I should say,\nnotion, which they call \u1f14\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1, and has seen the order and, if I may so\nsay, the harmony in which things are to be done, he then estimates it at a\nhigher value than all the things which he loved at first; and by this\nknowledge, and by reasoning, he comes to such a conclusion that he decides\nthat the chief good of man, which deserves to be praised and desired for\nits own sake, is placed in what the Stoics call \u1f41\u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03af\u03b1, and we\nagreement, if you approve of this translation of the term; as therefore it\nis in this that that good is placed to which all things [which are done\nhonourably] are to be referred, and honour itself, which is reckoned among\nthe goods, although it is only produced subsequently, still this alone\ndeserves to be sought for on account of its intrinsic power and worth; but\nof those things which are the principal natural goods there is not one\nwhich is to be sought for its own sake.\n\nBut as those things which I have called duties proceed from the first\nprinciples of nature, they must necessarily be referred to them; so that\nit may be fairly said that all duties are referred to this end, of\narriving at the principles of nature; not, however, that this is the\nhighest of all goods, because there is no such thing as honourable action\nin the first attractions of nature; for that is what follows, and arises\nsubsequently, as I have said before. But still it is according to nature,\nand encourages us to desire itself much more than all those things which\nhave been previously mentioned. But, first of all, we must remove a\nmistake, that no one may think that it follows that there are two supreme\ngoods. For as, if it were the purpose of any one to direct an arrow or a\nspear straight at any object, just as we have said that there is an\nespecial point to be aimed at in goods,\u2014the archer ought to do all in his\npower to aim straight at the target, and the other man ought also to do\nhis endeavour to hit the mark, and gain the end which he has proposed to\nhimself: let this then which we call the chief good in life be, as it\nwere, his mark; and his endeavour to hit it must be furthered by careful\nselection, not by mere desire.\n\nVII. But as all duties proceed from the first principles of nature, it\nfollows inevitably that wisdom itself must proceed from the same source.\nBut as it often happens, that he who has been recommended to any one\nconsiders him to whom he has been recommended of more importance than him\nwho recommended him; so it is not at all strange that in the first\ninstance we are recommended to wisdom by the principles of nature, but\nthat subsequently wisdom herself becomes dearer to us than the starting\nplace from which we arrive at it. And as limbs have been given to us in\nsuch a way that it is plain they have been given for some purpose of life;\nso that appetite of the mind which in Greek is called \u1f41\u03c1\u03bc\u1f74, appears to\nhave been given to us, not for any particular kind of life, but rather for\nsome especial manner of living: and so too is system and perfect method.\nFor as an actor employs gestures, and a dancer motions, not practising any\nrandom movement, but a regular systematic action; so life must be passed\naccording to a certain fixed kind, and not any promiscuous way, and that\ncertain kind we call a suitable and harmonious one. Nor do we think wisdom\nsimilar to the art of navigation or medicine, but rather to that kind of\naction which I have spoken of, and to dancing; I mean, inasmuch as the\nultimate point, that is to say, the production of the art, lies in the art\nitself, and is not sought for from foreign sources. And yet there are\nother points in which there is a difference between wisdom and those arts;\nbecause in those arts those things which are done properly do nevertheless\nnot comprise all the parts of the arts of which they consist. But the\nthings which we call right, or rightly done, if you will allow the\nexpression, and which they call \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b8\u03ce\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, contain in them the whole\ncompleteness of virtue. For wisdom is the only thing which is contained\nwholly in itself; and this is not the case with the other arts.\n\nAnd it is only out of ignorance that the object of the art of medicine or\nnavigation is compared with the object of wisdom; for wisdom embraces\ngreatness of mind and justice, and judges all the accidents which befal\nmankind beneath itself: and this too is not the case in the other arts.\nBut no one will be able to maintain those very virtues of which I have\njust made mention, unless he lays down a rule that there is nothing which\nis of any importance, nothing which differs from anything else, except\nwhat is honourable or disgraceful.\n\nVIII. Let us see now how admirably these rules follow from those\nprinciples which I have already laid down. For as this is the ultimate\n(_extremum_) point, (for you have noticed, I dare say, that I translate\nwhat the Greek philosopher calls \u03c4\u03ad\u03bb\u03bf\u03c2, sometimes by the word _extremum_,\nsometimes by _ultimum_, and sometimes by _summum_, and instead of\n_extremum_ or _ultimum_, I may also use the word _finis_,)\u2014as, then, this\nis the ultimate point, to live in a manner suitable to and harmonising\nwith nature; it follows of necessity that all wise men do always live\nhappily, perfectly, and fortunately; that they are hindered by nothing,\nembarrassed by nothing; that they are in want of nothing. And that which\nholds together not more that school of which I am speaking than our lives\nand fortunes, that is to say, the principle of accounting what is\nhonourable to be the sole good, may indeed easily be embellished and\nenlarged upon at great length, with great richness of illustration, with\ngreat variety of carefully chosen expressions, and with the most pompous\nsentiments in a rhetorical manner; but I prefer the brief, acute,\nconclusive arguments of the Stoics. Now their conclusions are arrived at\nin this manner: \u201cEverything which is good is praiseworthy; but everything\nwhich is praiseworthy is honourable;\u2014therefore, everything which is good\nis honourable.\u201d Does not this appear properly deduced? Undoubtedly;\u2014for\nthe result which was obtained from the two premises which were assumed,\nyou see was contained in them. But of the two premises from which the\nconclusion was inferred it is only the major one which can be\ncontradicted\u2014if you say that it is not the case, that everything which is\ngood is praiseworthy: for it is granted that whatever is praiseworthy is\nhonourable. But it is utterly absurd to say, that there is anything good\nwhich is not to be sought for; or, that there is anything which ought to\nbe sought for which is not pleasing; or, that if it is pleasing it ought\nnot likewise to be loved. Then it ought also to be approved of. Then it is\npraiseworthy. But what is praiseworthy is honourable. And so the result\nis, that whatever is good is also honourable. In the next place, I ask,\nwho can boast of a life which is miserable; or avoid boasting of one which\nis happy?\u2014therefore men boast only of a life which is happy. From which\nthe consequence follows, that a happy life deserves to be boasted of; but\nthis cannot properly be predicated of any life which is not an honourable\none. From this it follows, that a happy life must be an honourable one.\nAnd since the man to whom it happens to be deservedly praised has some\neminent qualities tending to credit and glory, so that he may rightly be\ncalled happy on account of such important qualities; the same thing is\nproperly predicated of the life of such a man. And so, if a happy life is\ndiscerned by its honourableness, then what is honourable ought to be\nconsidered the sole good. And, as this cannot possibly be denied, what man\ndo we say can ever exist of a stable and firm and great mind,\u2014whom, in\nfact, can we ever call brave,\u2014unless the point is established, that pain\nis not an evil? For as it is impossible that the man who ranks death among\nevils should not fear it, so in every case it is impossible for a man to\ndisregard what he judges to be an evil, and to despise it. And when this\npoint has been laid down, and ratified by universal assent, this is\nassumed next, that the man who is of a brave and magnanimous spirit\ndespises and utterly disregards every accident which can befal a man. And\nas this is the case, the consequence is, that there is nothing evil which\nis not disgraceful. And that man of lofty and excellent spirit,\u2014that\nmagnanimous and truly brave man, who considers all human accidents beneath\nhis notice,\u2014the man I mean whom we wish to make so, whom at all events we\nare looking for,\u2014ought to confide in himself, and in his own life both\npast and to come, and to form a favourable judgment of himself, laying\ndown as a principle, that no evil can happen to a wise man. From which\nagain the same result follows, that the sole good is that which is\nhonourable; and that to live happily is to live honourably, that is,\nvirtuously.\n\nIX. Not that I am ignorant that the opinions of philosophers have been\nvarious, of those I mean who have placed the chief good, that which I call\nthe end, in the mind. And although some people have followed them very\nincorrectly, still I prefer their theory, not only to that of the three\nsects who have separated virtue from the chief good, while ranking either\npleasure, or freedom from pain, or the original gifts of nature among\ngoods, but also to the other three who have thought that virtue would be\ncrippled without some reinforcement, and on that account have each added\nto it one of those other particulars which I have just enumerated. I,\nhowever, as I said, prefer to all these the men, whoever they may be, who\nhave described the chief good as consisting in the mind and in virtue. But\nnevertheless, those also are extremely absurd who have said that to live\nwith knowledge is the highest good, and who have asserted that there is no\ndifference between things, and so, that a wise man will surely be a happy\none, never at any moment of his life preferring one thing to another: as\nsome of the Academics are said to have laid it down, that the highest good\nand the chief duty of a wise man is to resist appearances, and firmly to\nwithhold his assent from them.\n\nNow people often make very lengthy replies to each of these assertions;\nyet what is very clear ought not to be long. But what is more evident\nthan, if there be no selection made, discarding those things which are\ncontrary to nature, and selecting those which are according to nature, all\nthat prudence which is so much sought after and extolled would be done\naway with? If, then, we discard those sentiments which I have mentioned,\nand all others which resemble them, it remains that the chief good must be\nto live, exercising a knowledge of those things which happen by nature,\nselecting what is according to nature, and rejecting any which are\ncontrary to nature; that is to say, to live in a manner suitable and\ncorresponding to nature.\n\nBut in other arts, when anything is said to have been done according to\nthe rules of art, there is something to be considered which is subsequent\nand follows upon such compliance; which they call \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd\u03bd\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u03cc\u03bd. But\nwhen we say in any matter that a thing has been done wisely, that same\nthing is from the first said also to have been done most properly; for\nwhatever proceeds from a wise man must at once be perfect in all its\nparts: for in him is placed that quality which we say is to be desired.\nFor as it is a sin to betray one\u2019s country, to injure one\u2019s parents, to\nplunder temples, which are all sins of commission; so it is likewise a sin\nto be afraid, to grieve, to be under the dominion of lust, even if no\novert act follows these feelings. But, as these are sins, not in their\nlater periods and consequences, but at once from the first moment; so\nthose actions which proceed from virtue are to be considered right at the\nfirst moment that they are undertaken, and not only when they are\naccomplished.\n\nX. But it may be as well to give an explanation and definition of the word\ngood, which, has been so often employed in this discourse. But the\ndefinitions of those philosophers differ a good deal from one another, and\nyet have all reference to the same facts. I myself agree with Diogenes,\nwho has defined good to be that which in its nature is perfect. But that\nwhich follows, that which is profitable (for so we may translate his\n\u1f7c\u03c6\u03ad\u03bb\u03b7\u03bc\u03b1), he considered to be a motion, or a state, arising out of the\nnature of the perfect. And as the notions of things arise in the mind, if\nanything has become known either by practice, or by combination, or by\nsimilitude, or by the comparison of reason; then by this fourth means,\nwhich I have placed last, the knowledge of good is arrived at. For when,\nby a comparison of the reason, the mind ascends from those things which\nare according to reason, then it arrives at a notion of good. And this\ngood we are speaking of, we both feel to be and call good, not because of\nany addition made to it, nor from its growth, nor from comparing it with\nother things, but because of its own proper power. For as honey, although\nit is very sweet, is still perceived to be sweet by its own peculiar kind\nof taste, and not by comparison with other things; so this good, which we\nare now treating of, is indeed to be esteemed of great value; but that\nvaluation depends on kind and not on magnitude. For as estimation, which\nis called \u1f00\u03be\u03af, is not reckoned among goods, nor, on the other hand, among\nevils, whatever you add to it will remain in its kind. There is,\ntherefore, another kind of estimation proper to virtue, which is of weight\nfrom its character, and not because of its increasing. Nor, indeed, are\nthe perturbations of the mind, which make the lives of the unwise bitter\nand miserable, and which the Greeks call \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b7, (I might translate the word\nitself by the Latin _morbi_, but it would not suit all the meanings of the\nGreek word; for who ever calls pity, or even anger, a disease\u2014_morbus_)?\nbut the Greeks do call such a feeling \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2. Let us then translate it\nperturbation, which is by its very name pointed out to be something\nvicious. Nor are these perturbations, I say, excited by any natural force;\nand they are altogether in kind four, but as to their divisions they are\nmore numerous. There is melancholy, fear, lust, and that feeling which the\nStoics call by the common name which they apply to both mind and body,\n\u1f21\u03b4\u03bf\u03bd\u1f74, and which I prefer translating joy (_l\u00e6titia_), rather than a\npleasurable elation of an exulting mind. But perturbations are not excited\nby any force of nature; and all those feelings are judgments and opinions\nproceeding from light-mindedness; and, therefore, the wise man will always\nbe free from them.\n\nXI. But that everything which is honourable is to be sought for its own\nsake, is an opinion common to us with many other schools of philosophers.\nFor, except the three sects which exclude virtue from the chief good, this\nopinion must be maintained by all philosophers, and above all by us, who\ndo not rank anything whatever among goods except what is honourable. But\nthe defence of this opinion is very easy and simple indeed; for who is\nthere, or who ever was there, of such violent avarice, or of such\nunbridled desires as not infinitely to prefer that anything which he\nwishes to acquire, even at the expense of any conceivable wickedness,\nshould come into his power without crime, (even though he had a prospect\nof perfect impunity,) than through crime? and what utility, or what\npersonal advantage do we hope for, when we are anxious to know whether\nthose bodies are moving whose movements are concealed from us, and owing\nto what causes they revolve through the heavens? And who is there that\nlives according to such clownish maxims, or who has so rigorously hardened\nhimself against the study of nature, as to be averse to things worthy of\nbeing understood, and to be indifferent to and disregard such knowledge,\nmerely because there is no exact usefulness or pleasure likely to result\nfrom it? or, who is there who\u2014when he comes to know the exploits, and\nsayings, and wise counsels of our forefathers, of the Africani, or of that\nancestor of mine whom you are always talking of, and of other brave men,\nand citizens of pre-eminent virtue\u2014does not feel his mind affected with\npleasure? and who that has been brought up in a respectable family, and\neducated as becomes a freeman, is not offended with baseness as such,\nthough it may not be likely to injure him personally? Who can keep his\nequanimity while looking on a man who, he thinks, lives in an impure and\nwicked manner? Who does not hate sordid, fickle, unstable, worthless men?\nBut what shall we be able to say, (if we do not lay it down that baseness\nis to be avoided for its own sake), is the reason why men do not seek\ndarkness and solitude, and then give the rein to every possible infamy,\nexcept that baseness of itself detects them by reason of its own intrinsic\nfoulness? Innumerable arguments may be brought forward to support this\nopinion; but it is needless, for there is nothing which can be less a\nmatter of doubt than that what is honourable ought to be sought for its\nown sake; and, in the same manner, what is disgraceful ought to be\navoided.\n\nBut after that point is established, which we have previously mentioned,\nthat what is honourable is the sole good; it must unavoidably be\nunderstood that that which is honourable, is to be valued more highly than\nthose intermediate goods which we derive from it. But when we say that\nfolly, and rashness, and injustice, and intemperance are to be avoided on\naccount of those things which result from them, we do not speak in such a\nmanner that our language is at all inconsistent with the position which\nhas been laid down, that that alone is evil which is dishonourable.\nBecause those things are not referred to any inconvenience of the body,\nbut to dishonourable actions, which arise out of vicious propensities\n(_vitia_). For what the Greeks call \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03af\u03b1 I prefer translating by _vitium_\nrather than by _malitia_.\n\nXII. Certainly; Cato, said I, you are employing very admirable language,\nand such as expresses clearly what you mean; and, therefore, you seem to\nme to be teaching philosophy in Latin, and, as it were, to be presenting\nit with the freedom of the city. For up to this time she has seemed like a\nstranger at Rome, and has not put herself in the way of our conversation;\nand that, too, chiefly because of a certain highly polished thinness of\nthings and words. For I am aware that there are some men who are able to\nphilosophise in any language, but who still employ no divisions and no\ndefinitions; and who say themselves that they approve of those things\nalone to which nature silently assents. Therefore, they discuss, without\nany great degree of labour, matters which are not very obscure. And, on\nthis account, I am now prepared to listen eagerly to you, and to commit to\nmemory all the names which you give to those matters to which this\ndiscussion refers. For, perhaps, I myself may some day have reason to\nemploy them too.\n\nYou, then, appear to me to be perfectly right, and to be acting in strict\naccordance with our usual way of speaking, when you lay it down that there\nare vices the exact opposites of virtues; for that which is blameable\n(_vituperabile_) for its own sake, I think ought, from that very fact, to\nbe called a vice; and perhaps this verb, _vitupero_, is derived from\n_vitium_. But if you had translated \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03af\u03b1 by _malitia_,(46) then the usage\nof the Latin language would have limited us to one particular vice; but,\nas it is, all vice is opposed to all virtue by one generic opposite name.\n\nXIII. Then he proceeded:\u2014After these things, therefore, are thus laid\ndown, there follows a great contest, which has been handled by the\nPeripatetics somewhat too gently, (for their method of arguing is not\nsufficiently acute, owing to their ignorance of dialectics;) but your\nCarneades has pressed the matter with great vigour and effect, displaying\nin reference to it a most admirable skill in dialectics, and the most\nconsummate eloquence; because he has never ceased to contend throughout\nthe whole of this discussion, which turns upon what is good and what is\nbad, that the controversy between the Stoics and Peripatetics is not one\nof things, but only of names. But, to me, nothing appears so evident as\nthat the opinions of these two schools differ from one another far more as\nto facts than to names; I mean to say, that there is much greater\ndifference between the Stoics and Peripatetics in principle than in\nlanguage. Forasmuch as the Peripatetics assert that everything which they\nthemselves call good, has a reference to living happily; but our school\ndoes not think that a happy life necessarily embraces everything which is\nworthy of any esteem.\n\nBut can anything be more certain than that, according to the principles of\nthose men who rank pain among the evils, a wise man cannot be happy when\nhe is tormented on the rack? While the principles of those who do not\nconsider pain among the evils, certainly compels us to allow that a happy\nlife is preserved to a wise man among all torments. In truth, if those men\nendure pain with greater fortitude who suffer it in the cause of their\ncountry, than those who do so for any slighter object; then it is plain\nthat it is opinion, and not nature, which makes the force of pain greater\nor less. Even that opinion of the Peripatetics is more than I can agree\nto, that, as there are three kinds of goods, as they say, each individual\nis the happier in proportion as he is richer in the goods of the body or\nexternal goods, so that we must be forced also to approve of this\ndoctrine, that that man is happier who has a greater quantity of those\nthings which are accounted of great value as affecting the body. For they\nthink that a happy life is made complete by bodily advantages; but there\nis nothing which our philosophers can so little agree to. For, as our\nopinion is that life is not even made in the least more happy by an\nabundance of those goods which we call goods of nature, nor more\ndesirable, nor deserving of being more highly valued, then certainly a\nmultitude of bodily advantages can have still less effect on making life\nhappy. In truth, if to be wise be a desirable thing, and to be well be so\ntoo, then both together must be more desirable than wisdom by itself; but\nit does not follow, if each quality deserves to be esteemed, that\ntherefore, the two taken together deserve to be esteemed more highly than\nwisdom does by itself. For we who consider good health worthy of any\nesteem, and yet do not rank it among the goods, think, at the same time,\nthat the esteem to which it is entitled is by no means such as that it\nought to be preferred to virtue. But this is not the doctrine of the\nPeripatetics; and they ought to tell us, that that which is an honourable\naction and unaccompanied by pain, is more to be desired than the same\naction would be if it were attended with pain. We think not: whether we\nare right or wrong may be discussed hereafter; but can there possibly be a\ngreater disagreement respecting facts and principles?\n\nXIV. For as the light of a candle is obscured and put out by the light of\nthe sun; and as a drop of brine is lost in the magnitude of the \u00c6g\u00e6an sea;\nor an addition of a penny amid the riches of Cr\u0153sus; or as one step is of\nno account in a march from here to India; so, if that is the chief good\nwhich the Stoics affirm is so, then, all the goods which depend on the\nbody must inevitably be obscured and overwhelmed by, and come to nothing\nwhen placed by the side of the splendour and importance of virtue. And\nsince opportunity, (for that is how we may translate \u03b5\u1f50\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u03af\u03b1,) is not\nmade greater by extending the time, (for whatever is said to be opportune\nhas its own peculiar limit;) so a right action, (for that is how I\ntranslate \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2, and a right deed I call \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1,)\u2014a right action,\nI say, and suitableness, and, in short, the good itself, which depends on\nthe fact of its being in accordance with nature, has no possibility of\nreceiving any addition or growth. For as that opportunity is not made\ngreater by the extension of time, so neither are these things which I have\nmentioned. And, on that account, a happy life does not seem to the Stoics\nmore desirable or more deserving of being sought after, if it is long than\nif it is short; and they prove this by a simile:\u2014As the praise of a buskin\nis to fit the foot exactly, and as many buskins are not considered to fit\nbetter than few, and large ones are not thought better than small ones;\nso, in the case of those the whole good of which depends upon its\nsuitableness and fitness; many are not preferred to few, nor what is\ndurable to what is short-lived. Nor do they exhibit sufficient acuteness\nwhen they say, if good health is more to be esteemed when it lasts long\nthan when it lasts only a short time, then the longest possible enjoyment\nof wisdom must clearly be of the greatest value. They do not understand\nthat the estimate of good health is formed expressly with reference to its\nduration; of virtue with reference to its fitness of time; so that men who\nargue in this manner, seem as if they would speak of a good death, or a\ngood labour, and call one which lasted long, better than a short one. They\ndo not perceive that some things are reckoned of more value in proportion\nto their brevity; and some in proportion to their length. Therefore, it is\nquite consistent with what has been said, that according to the principles\nof those who think that that end of goods which we call the extreme or\nchief good, is susceptible of growth, they may also think that one man can\nbe wiser than another; and, in like manner then, one man may sin more, or\nact more rightly than another. But such an assertion is not allowable to\nus, who do not think the end of goods susceptible of growth. For as men\nwho have been submerged under the water, cannot breathe any more because\nthey are at no great depth below the surface, (though they may on this\naccount be able at times to emerge,) than if they were at the bottom, nor\ncan the puppy who is nearly old enough to see, as yet see any more than\none who is but this moment born; so the man who has made some progress\ntowards the approach to virtue, is no less in a state of misery than he\nwho has made no such advance at all.\n\nXV. I am aware that all this seems very strange. But as unquestionably the\nprevious propositions are true and uncontrovertible, and as these others\nare in harmony with, and are the direct consequences of them; we cannot\nquestion their truth also. But although some people deny that either\nvirtues or vices are susceptible of growth, still they believe that each\nof them is in some degree diffused, and as it were extended. But Diogenes\nthinks that riches have not only such power, that they are, as it were,\nguides to pleasure and to good health, but that they even contain them:\nbut that they have not the same power with regard to virtue, or to the\nother arts to which money may indeed be a guide, but which it cannot\ncontain. Therefore, if pleasure or if good health be among the goods,\nriches also must be classed among the goods; but if wisdom be a good, it\ndoes not follow that we are also to call riches a good; nor can that which\nis classed among the goods be contained by anything which is not placed in\nthe same classification. And on that account, because the knowledge and\ncomprehension of those things by which arts are produced, excite a desire\nfor them, as riches are not among the goods, therefore no art can be\ncontained in riches.\n\nBut if we grant this to be true with respect to arts, still it is not to\nfollow that the same rule holds good with respect to virtue; because\nvirtue requires a great deal of meditation and practice, and this is not\nalways the case with arts; and also because virtue embraces the stability,\nfirmness, and consistency of the entire life; and we do not see that the\nsame is the case with arts.\n\nAfter this, we come to explain the differences between things. And if we\nwere to say that there is none, then all life would be thrown into\nconfusion, as it is by Aristo. Nor could any office or work be found for\nwisdom, if there were actually no difference between one thing and\nanother, and if there were no power of selection at all requisite to be\nexerted. Therefore, after it had been sufficiently established that that\nalone was good which was honourable, and that alone evil which was\ndisgraceful, they asserted that there were some particulars in which those\nthings which had no influence on the misery or happiness of life, differed\nfrom one another, so that some of them deserved to be esteemed, some to be\ndespised, and others were indifferent. But as to those things which\ndeserved to be esteemed, some of them had in themselves sufficient reason\nfor being preferred to others, as good health, soundness of the senses,\nfreedom from pain, glory, riches, and similar things. But others were not\nof this kind. And in like manner, as to those things which were worthy of\nno esteem at all, some had cause enough in themselves why they should be\nrejected, such as pain, disease, loss of senses, poverty, ignominy, and\nthings like them, and some had not. And thus, from this distinction, came\nwhat Zeno called \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, and on the other hand what he called\n\u1f00\u03c0\u03bf\u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, as though writing in so copious a language, he chose to\nemploy new terms of his own invention; a license which is not allowed to\nus in this barren language of ours; although you often insist that it is\nricher than the Greek. But it is not foreign to our present subject, in\norder that the meaning of the word may be more easily understood, to\nexplain the principle on which Zeno invented these terms.\n\nXVI. For as, says he, no one in a king\u2019s palace says that the king is, as\nit were, led forward towards his dignity (for that is the real meaning of\nthe word \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, but the term is applied to those who are of some rank\nwhose order comes next to his, so as to be second to the kingly dignity);\nso in life too, it is not those things which are in the first rank, but\nthose which are in the second which are called \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1, or led forward.\nAnd we may translate the Greek by _productum_ (this will be a strictly\nliteral translation), or we may call it and its opposite _promotum_ and\n_remotum_, or as we have said before, we may call \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd, _pr\u00e6positum_\nor _pr\u00e6cipuum_, and its opposite _rejectum_. For when the thing is\nunderstood, we ought to be very ductile as to the words which we employ.\n\nBut since we say that everything which is good holds the first rank, it\nfollows inevitably that this which we call _pr\u00e6cipuum_ or _pr\u00e6positum_,\nmust be neither good nor bad. And therefore we define it as something\nindifferent, attended with a moderate esteem. For that which they call\n\u1f00\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd, it occurs to me to translate _indifferens_. Nor, indeed, was it\nat all possible that there should be nothing left intermediate, which was\neither according to nature or contrary to it; nor, when that was left,\nthat there should be nothing ranked in this class which was tolerably\nestimable; nor, if this position were once established, that there should\nnot be some things which are preferred. This distinction, then, has been\nmade with perfect propriety, and this simile is employed by them to make\nthe truth more easily seen. For as, say they, if we were to suppose this\nto be, as it were, the end and greatest of goods, to throw a die in such a\nmanner that it should stand upright, then the die which is thrown in such\na manner as to fall upright, will have some particular thing preferred as\nits end, and _vice vers\u00e2_. And yet that preference of the die will have no\nreference to the end of which I have been speaking. So those things which\nhave been preferred are referred indeed to the end, but have no reference\nat all to its force or nature.\n\nNext comes that division, that of goods some have reference to that end\n(for so I express those which they call \u03c4\u03b5\u03bb\u03b9\u03ba\u1f70, for we must here, as we\nhave said before, endure to express in many words, what we cannot express\nby one so as to be thoroughly intelligible,) some are efficient causes,\nand some are both together. But of those which have reference to that end,\nnothing is good except honourable actions; of those which are efficient\ncauses, nothing is good except a friend. But they assert that wisdom is\nboth a referential and an efficient good. For, because wisdom is suitable\naction, it is of that referential character which I have mentioned; but\ninasmuch as it brings and causes honourable actions, it may be so far\ncalled efficient.\n\nXVII. Now these things which we have spoken of as preferred, are preferred\nsome for their own sake, some because they effect something else, and some\nfor both reasons. Some are preferred for their own sake, such as some\nparticular appearance or expression of countenance, some particular kind\nof gait, or motion, in which there are some things which may well be\npreferred, and some which may be rejected. Others are said to be preferred\nbecause they produce something, as money; and others for a combination of\nboth reasons, as soundness of the senses, or good health. But respecting\ngood reputation, (for what they call \u03b5\u1f50\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03af\u03b1 is more properly called, in\nthis place, good reputation than glory,) Chrysippus and Diogenes denied\nits whole utility, and used to say that one ought not even to put forth a\nfinger for the sake of it, with whom I entirely and heartily agree. But\nthose who came after them, being unable to withstand the arguments of\nCarneades, said that this good reputation, as I call it, was preferred for\nits own sake, and ought to be chosen for its own sake, and that it was\nnatural for a man of good family, who had been properly brought up, to\nwish to be praised by his parents, his relations, and by good men in\ngeneral, and that too for the sake of the praise itself, and not of any\nadvantage which might ensue from it. And they say, too, that as we wish to\nprovide for our children, even for such as may be posthumous children, for\ntheir own sake, so we ought also to show a regard for posthumous fame\nafter our death, for its own sake, without any thought of gain or\nadvantage.\n\nBut as we assert that what is honourable is the only good, still it is\nconsistent with this assertion to discharge one\u2019s duty, though we do not\nclass duty among either the goods or the evils. For there is in these\nthings some likelihood, and that of such a nature that reasons can be\nalleged for there being such; and therefore of such a nature, that\nprobable reasons may be adduced for adopting such a line of conduct. From\nwhich it follows that duty is a sort of neutral thing, which is not to be\nclassed either among the goods or among the opposites of goods. And since,\nin those things which are neither ranked among the virtues nor among the\nvices, there is still something which may be of use; that is not to be\ndestroyed. For there is a certain action of that sort, and that too of\nsuch a character that reason requires one to do and perform it. But that\nwhich is done in obedience to reason we call duty; duty, then, is a thing\nof that sort, that it must not be ranked either among the goods or among\nthe opposites of goods.\n\nXVIII. And this also is evident, that in these natural things the wise man\nis not altogether inactive. He therefore, when he acts, judges that that\nis his duty; and because he is never deceived in forming his judgment,\nduty must be classed among neutral things; and this is proved also by this\nconclusion of reason. For since we see that there is something which we\npronounce to have been rightly done (for that is duty when accomplished),\nthere must also be something which is rightly begun: as, if to restore\nwhat has been justly deposited belongs to the class of right actions, then\nit must be classed among the duties to restore a deposit; and the addition\nof the word \u201cjustly\u201d makes the duty to be rightly performed: but the mere\nfact of restoring is classed as a duty. And since it is not doubtful, that\nin those things which we call intermediate or neutral, some ought to be\nchosen and others rejected, whatever is done or said in this manner comes\nunder the head of ordinary duty. And from this it is understood, since all\nmen naturally love themselves, that a fool is as sure as a wise man to\nchoose what is in accordance with nature, and to reject what is contrary\nto it; and so there is one duty in common both to wise men and to fools;\nfrom which it follows that duty is conversant about those things which we\ncall neutral. But since all duties proceed from these things, it is not\nwithout reason that it is said that all our thoughts are referred to these\nthings, and among them our departure from life, and our remaining in life.\n\nFor he in whom there are many things which are in accordance with nature,\nhis duty it is to remain in life; but as to the man in whom there either\nis or appears likely to be a preponderance of things contrary to nature,\nthat man\u2019s duty is to depart from life. From which consideration it is\nevident, that it is sometimes the duty of a wise man to depart from life\nwhen he is happy, and sometimes the duty of a fool to remain in life\nthough he is miserable. For that good and that evil, as has been often\nsaid, comes afterwards. But those principal natural goods, and those which\nhold the second rank, and those things which are opposite to them, all\ncome under the decision of, and are matters for the reflection of the wise\nman; and are, as it were, the subject matter of wisdom. Therefore the\nquestion of remaining in life, or of emigrating from it, is to be measured\nby all those circumstances which I have mentioned above; for death is not\nto be sought for by those men who are retained in life by virtue, nor by\nthose who are destitute of virtue. But it is often the duty of a wise man\nto depart from life, when he is thoroughly happy, if it is in his power to\ndo so opportunely; and that is living in a manner suitable to nature, for\ntheir maxim is, that living happily depends upon opportunity. Therefore a\nrule is laid down by wisdom, that if it be necessary a wise man is even to\nleave her herself.\n\nWherefore, as vice has not such power as to afford a justifying cause for\nvoluntary death, it is evident that it is the duty even of fools, and of\nthose too who are miserable, to remain in life, if they are surrounded by\na preponderance of those things which we call according to nature. And\nsince such a man is equally miserable, whether departing from life, or\nabiding in it, and since the duration of misery is not any the more a\ncause for fleeing from life, therefore it is not a causeless assertion,\nthat those men who have the power of enjoying the greatest number of\nnatural goods, ought to abide in life.\n\nXIX. But they think it is very important with reference to this subject,\nthat it should be understood that it is the work of nature, that children\nare beloved by their parents; and that this is the first principle from\nwhich we may trace the whole progress of the common society of the human\nrace. And that this may be inferred, in the first place, from the figure\nand members of the body, which of themselves declare that a due regard for\neverything connected with generation has been exhibited by nature; nor can\nthese two things possibly be consistent with one another, that nature\nshould desire that offspring should be propagated, and yet take no care\nthat what is propagated should be loved. But even in beasts the power of\nnature may be discerned; for when we see such labour bestowed upon the\nbringing forth and bearing of their offspring, we seem to be hearing the\nvoice of nature herself. Wherefore, as it is evident that we are by nature\naverse to pain; so also it is clear that we are impelled by nature herself\nto love those whose existence we have caused. And from this it arises that\nthere is such a recommendation by nature of one man to another, that one\nman ought never to appear unfriendly to another, for the simple reason\nthat he is a man.\n\nFor as among the limbs some appear to be created for themselves as it\nwere, as the eyes and ears; others assist the rest of the limbs, as the\nlegs and hands; so there are some monstrous beasts born for themselves\nalone: but that fish which floats in an open shell and is called the\npinna, and that other which swims out of the shell, and, because it is a\nguard to the other, is called the pinnoteres, and when it has withdrawn\nwithin the shell again, is shut up in it, so that it appears that it has\ngiven it warning to be on its guard; and also ants, and bees, and storks,\ndo something for the sake of others. Much more is this the case with\nreference to the union of men. And therefore we are by nature adapted for\ncompanionship, for taking counsel together, for forming states. But they\nthink that this world is regulated by the wisdom of the gods, and that it\nis, as it were, a common city and state of men and gods, and that every\nindividual of us is a part of the world. From which that appears to follow\nby nature, that we should prefer the general advantage to our own. For as\nthe laws prefer the general safety to that of individuals, so a good and\nwise man, and one who obeys the laws and who is not ignorant of his duty\nas a citizen, consults the general advantage rather than that of any\nparticular individual, or even than his own. Nor is a betrayer of his\ncountry more to be blamed, than one who deserts the general advantage or\nthe general safety on account of his own private advantage or safety. From\nwhich it also follows, that that man deserves to be praised who encounters\ndeath voluntarily for the sake of the republic, because it is right that\nthe republic should be dearer to us than ourselves. And since it is said\nto be a wicked thing, and contrary to human nature, for a man to say that\nhe would not care if, after his own death, a general conflagration of the\nwhole world were to happen, which is often uttered in a Greek(47) verse;\nso it is certainly true that we ought to consult the interests of those\nwho are to come after us, for the sake of the love which we bear them.\n\nXX. It is in this disposition of mind that wills, and the recommendations\nof dying persons, have originated. And because no one would like to pass\nhis life in solitude, not even if surrounded with an infinite abundance of\npleasures, it is easily perceived that we are born for communion and\nfellowship with man, and for natural associations. But we are impelled by\nnature to wish to benefit as many persons as possible, especially by\ninstructing them and delivering them precepts of prudence. Therefore, it\nis not easy to find a man who does not communicate to some other what he\nknows himself; so prone are we not only to learn, but also to teach. And\nas the principle is by nature implanted in bulls to fight in behalf of\ntheir calves with the greatest vigour and earnestness, even against lions;\nso those who are rich or powerful, and are able to do so, are excited by\nnature to preserve the race of mankind, as we have heard by tradition was\nthe case with Hercules and Libera. And also when we call Jupiter\nall-powerful and all-good, and likewise when we speak of him as the\nsalutary god, the hospitable god, or as Stator, we mean it to be\nunderstood that the safety of men is under his protection. But it is very\ninconsistent, when we are disregarded and despised by one another, to\nentreat, that we may be dear to and beloved by the immortal gods. As,\ntherefore, we make use of our limbs before we have learnt the exact\nadvantage with a view to which we are endowed with them, so also we are\nunited and associated by nature in a community of fellow-citizens. And if\nthis were not the case, there would be no room for either justice or\nbenevolence.\n\nAnd as men think that there are bonds of right which connect man with man,\nso also there is no law which connects man with the beasts. For well did\nChrysippus say, that all other animals have been born for the sake of men\nand of the gods; but that men and gods have been born only for the sake of\ntheir own mutual communion and society, so that men might be able to use\nbeasts for their own advantage without any violation of law or right. And\nsince the nature of man is such that he has, as it were, a sort of right\nof citizenship connecting him with the whole human race, a man who\nmaintains that right is just, and he who departs from it is unjust.\n\nBut as, although a theatre is publicly open, still it may be fairly said\nthat the place which each individual has occupied belongs to him; so in a\ncity, or in the world, which is likewise common to all, there is no\nprinciple of right which hinders each individual from having his own\nprivate property. But since we see that man has been born for the purpose\nof defending and preserving men, so it is consistent with this nature that\na wise man should wish to manage and regulate the republic; and, in order\nto live in compliance with nature, to marry a wife and beget children. Nor\ndo philosophers think virtuous love inconsistent with a wise man. But\nothers say that the principles and life of the Cynics are more suited to a\nwise man; if, indeed, any chance should befal him which might compel him\nto act in such a manner; while others wholly deny it.\n\nXXI. But in order that the society, and union, and affection between man\nand man may be completely preserved, they have laid it down that all\nbenefits and injuries, which they call \u1f60\u03c6\u03b5\u03bb\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 and \u03b2\u03bb\u03ac\u03bc\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, are\nlikewise common; of which the former are advantageous, and the latter\ninjurious. Nor have they been contented with calling them common, but they\nhave also asserted their equality. But as for disadvantages and\nadvantages, (by which words I translate \u03b5\u1f50\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 and \u03b4\u03c5\u03c3\u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1,)\nthose they assert to be common, but they deny that they are equal. For\nthose things which profit or which injure are either good or evil; and\nthey must necessarily be equal. But advantages and disadvantages are of\nthat kind which we have already called things preferred or rejected; and\nthey cannot be equal. But advantages are said to be common; but things\ndone rightly, and sins, are not considered common. But they think that\nfriendship is to be cultivated because it is one of that class of things\nwhich is profitable. But although, in friendship, some people assert that\nthe interest of a man\u2019s friend is as dear to him as his own; others, on\nthe other hand, contend that every man has a greater regard for his own.\nYet these latter confess that it is inconsistent with justice, for which\nwe seem to be born, to take anything from another for the purpose of\nappropriating it to oneself. But philosophers of this school which I am\nspeaking of, never approve of either friendship or justice being exercised\nor sanctioned for the sake of its usefulness: for they say that the same\nprinciples of usefulness may, at times, undermine or overturn them. In\ntruth, neither justice nor friendship can have any existence at all,\nunless they be sought for their own sake. They contend also that all\nright, which has any pretence to the name and appellation, is so by\nnature; and that it is inconsistent with the character of a wise man, not\nonly to do any injustice to any one, but even to do him any damage. Nor is\nit right to make such a league with one\u2019s friends as to share in all their\ngood deeds, or to become a partner in every act of injustice; and they\nargue, with the greatest dignity and truth, that justice can never be\nseparated from usefulness: and that whatever is just and equitable is also\nhonourable; and, reciprocally, that whatever is honourable must be also\njust and equitable.\n\nAnd to those virtues which we have discussed, they also add dialectics and\nnatural philosophy; and they call both these sciences by the name of\nvirtues: one, because it has reason, so as to prevent our assenting to any\nfalse proposition, or being even deceived by any plausible probability;\nand to enable us to maintain and defend what we were saying about good and\nevil. For without this act they think that any one may be led away from\nthe truth and deceived; accordingly, if rashness and ignorance is in every\ncase vicious, this power which removes them is properly named virtue.\n\nXXII. The same honour is also attributed to natural philosophy, and not\nwithout reason, because the man who wishes to live in a manner suitable to\nnature, must begin by studying the universal world, and the laws which\ngovern it. Nor can any one form a correct judgment of good and evil\nwithout being acquainted with the whole system of nature, and of the life\nof the gods also, and without knowing whether or not the nature of man\nagrees with universal nature. He must also have learnt the ancient rules\nof those wise men who bid men yield to the times, and obey God, and know\noneself, and shun every kind of excess. Now, without a knowledge of\nnatural philosophy, no man can see what great power these rules have; and\nit is as great as can be: and also this is the only knowledge which can\nteach a man how greatly nature assists in the cultivation of justice, in\nthe maintenance of friendship and the rest of the affections. Nor can\npiety towards the Gods, nor the gratitude which is due to them, be\nproperly understood and appreciated without a correct understanding of the\nlaws of nature.\n\nBut I feel now that I have advanced further than I had intended, or than\nthe subject before me required. But the admirable arrangement of the Stoic\ndoctrine, and the incredible beauty of the system, drew me on. And, in the\nname of the immortal gods! can you forbear to admire it? For what is there\nin all nature\u2014though nothing is better or more accurately adapted to its\nends than that\u2014or what can be found in any work made by the hand, so well\narranged, and united, and put together? What is there which is posterior,\nwhich does not agree with what has preceded it? What is there which\nfollows, and does not correspond to what has gone before? What is there\nwhich is not connected with something else in such a manner, that if you\nonly move one letter the whole will fall to pieces? Nor, indeed, is there\nanything which can be moved.\n\nBut what a grand and magnificent and consistent character is that of the\nwise man which is drawn by them! For he, after reason has taught him that\nthat which is honourable is alone good, must inevitably be always happy,\nand must have a genuine right to those names which are often ridiculed by\nthe ignorant. For he will be more properly called king than Tarquin, who\nwas able to govern neither himself nor his family; he will deserve to be\ncalled the master of the people more than Sylla, who was only the master\nof three pestiferous vices, luxury, avarice, and cruelty; he will be\ncalled rich more properly than Crassus, who would never have desired to\ncross the Euphrates without any legitimate cause for war, if he had not\nbeen in want of something. Everything will be properly said to belong to\nthat man, who alone knows how to make use of everything. He will also\nrightly be called beautiful, for the features of the mind are more\nbeautiful than those of the body: he will deservedly be called the only\nfree man, who is neither subject to the domination of any one, nor\nsubservient to his own passions. He will fairly be called invincible, on\nwhose mind, even though his body be bound with chains, no fetters can ever\nbe imposed. Nor will he wait till the last period of his life, so as to\nhave it decided whether he has been happy or not, after he has come to the\nlast day of life and closed his eyes in death, in the spirit of the\nwarning which one of the wise men gave to Cr\u0153sus, without showing much\nwisdom in so doing. For if he had ever been happy, then he would have\nborne his happy life with him, even as far as the funeral pile built for\nhim by Cyrus.\n\nBut if it be true that no one except a good man is happy, and that all\ngood men are happy, then what deserves to be cultivated more than\nphilosophy, or what is more divine than virtue?\n\n\n\n\nFourth Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n\n\nI. And when he had made an end of saying these things, I replied, Truly, O\nCato, you have displayed a wonderful memory in explaining to us such a\nnumber of things, and in laying such obscure things so clearly before us.\nSo that we must either give up having any meaning or wish contrary to what\nyou have said, or else we must take time to deliberate: for it is not easy\nto learn thoroughly the principles of a school which has not only had its\nfoundation laid, but which has even been built up with such diligence,\nalthough perhaps with some errors as to its truth, (which, however, I will\nnot as yet dare to affirm,) but at all events with such care and accuracy.\nThen, said he, is that what you say, when I have seen you, in obedience to\nthis new law, reply to the prosecutor on the same day on which he has\nbrought forward his charge, and sum up for three hours; and then do you\nthink that I am going to allow an adjournment in this cause? which,\nhowever, will not be conducted by you better than those which are at times\nentrusted to you. Wherefore, I desire that you will now apply yourself to\nthis one, especially as it has been handled by others, and also by\nyourself several times; so that you cannot be at a loss for arguments or\nlanguage.\n\nI replied, I do not, in truth, venture to argue inconsiderately against\nthe Stoics, not because I agree with them in any great degree, but I am\nhindered by shame; because they say so much that I hardly understand. I\nconfess, said he, that some of our arguments are obscure; not that we make\nthem so on purpose, but because there is some obscurity in the subjects\nthemselves. Why, then, said I, when the Peripatetics discuss the same\nsubjects, does not a single word occur which is not well understood? Do\nthey discuss the same subjects? said he; or have I failed to prove to you\nthat the Stoics differ from the Peripatetics, not in words only, but in\nthe whole of the subject, and in every one of their opinions? But, said I,\nif, O Cato, you can establish that, I will allow you to carry me over,\nbody and soul, to your school. I did think, said he, that I had said\nenough on that point; wherefore answer me on that head first, if you\nplease; and afterwards you can advance what arguments you please. I do not\nthink it too much, said I, if I claim to answer you on that topic as I\nmyself please. As you will, said he; for although the other way would have\nbeen more common, yet it is only fair to allow every one to adopt his own\nmethod.\n\nII. I think, then, said I, O Cato, that those ancient pupils of Plato,\nSpeusippus, Aristotle and Xenocrates, and afterwards their pupils, Polemo\nand Theophrastus, had a system laid down with sufficient richness and\neloquence of language; so that Zeno had no reason, after having been a\npupil of Polemo, for deserting him and his predecessors who had\nestablished this school. And in this school I should like you to observe\nwhat you think ought to be changed, and not to wait while I am replying to\neverything which has been said by you. For I think that I must contend\nwith the whole of their system, against the whole of yours.\n\nAnd as these men said that we are born with the view of being generally\nwell adapted to those virtues which are well known and conspicuous, I mean\njustice and temperance, and others of the same kind, all which resemble\nthe other arts, and differ only for the better in their subject matter and\nway of handling;\u2014and as they saw that we desired those very virtues in a\nsomewhat magnificent and ardent spirit; and that we had also a certain\ninstruction, or, I should rather say, innate desire of knowledge; and that\nwe were born for companionship with men, and for society and communion\nwith the human race, and that these qualities are most conspicuous in the\ngreatest geniuses;\u2014they divided all philosophy into three parts; and we\nsee that this same division was retained by Zeno: and as one of these\nparts is that by which the manners are thought to be formed, I postpone\nthe consideration of that part, which is, as it were, the foundation of\nthis question. For what is the chief good I will discuss presently; but at\nthis moment I only say that that topic which I think we shall be right in\ncalling the civil one, and which the Greeks call \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2, has been\ntreated of in a dignified and copious manner by the ancient Peripatetics\nand Academicians who, agreeing in parts, differed from one another only in\nwords.\n\nIII. How many books have these men written on the republic! how many on\nlaws! How many precepts in art, and, more than that, how many instances of\ngood speaking in orations have they bequeathed to us! For, in the first\nplace, they said with the greatest degree of polish and fitness those very\nthings which were to be argued in a subtle manner, laying down both\ndefinitions and divisions: as your friends have also done: but you have\ndone it in a more shabby manner; while you see how brilliant their\nlanguage is. In the second place, with what splendid language have they\nadorned that part of the subject which required ornate and impressive\neloquence! how gloriously have they illustrated it! discussing justice,\nand fortitude, and friendship, and the method of passing life, and\nphilosophy, and the government of the state, and temperance, not like men\npicking out thorns, like the Stoics, or laying bare the bones, but like\nmen who knew how to handle great subjects elegantly, and lesser ones\nclearly. What, therefore, are their consolations? What are their\nexhortations? What also are their warnings and advice written to the most\neminent men? For their practice in speaking was, like the nature of the\nthings themselves, of a two-fold character. For whatever is made a\nquestion of, contains a controversy either as to the genus itself, without\nreference to persons or times; or else, with these additions, a dispute as\nto the fact, or the right, or the name. And therefore, they exercised\nthemselves in both kinds; and that discipline it was which produced that\ngreat copiousness of eloquence among them in both kinds of argumentation.\nNow Zeno, and those who imitated him, were either unable to do much in\nthis kind of argument, or else were unwilling, or at all events they did\nnot do it. Although Cleanthes wrote a treatise on the art of rhetoric, and\nso too did Chrysippus, but still in such a manner, that if any one were to\nwish to be silent, he ought to read nothing else. Therefore you see how\nthey speak. They invent new words\u2014they abandon old established terms.\n\nBut what great attempts do they make? They say that this universal world\nis our town; accordingly, this excites those who hear such a statement.\nYou see, now, how great a business you are undertaking; to make a man who\nlives at Circeii believe that this universal world is merely a town for\nhimself to live in. What will be the end of this? Shall he set fire to it?\nHe will rather extinguish it, if he has received it on fire. The next\nthing said is that list of titles which you briefly enumerated,\u2014king,\ndictator, rich man, the only wise man; words poured out by you decorously\nand roundly: they well might be, for you have learnt them from the\norators. But how vague and unsubstantial are those speeches about the\npower of virtue! which they make out to be so great that it can, by\nitself, secure the happiness of man. They prick us with narrow little bits\nof questions as with pins; and those who assent to them are not at all\nchanged in their minds, and go away the same as they came: for matters\nwhich are perhaps true, and which certainly are important, are not handled\nas they ought to be, but in a more minute and petty manner.\n\nIV. The next thing is the principle of arguing, and the knowledge of\nnature. For we will examine the chief good presently, as I said before,\nand apply the whole discussion to the explanation of it. There was, then,\nin those two parts nothing which Zeno wished to alter. For the whole\nthing, in both its divisions, is in an excellent state; for what has been\nomitted by the ancients in that kind of argument which is of influence in\ndiscussion? For they have both given many definitions, and have bequeathed\nto us titles for defining; and that important addition to definition, I\nmean the dividing of the subject into parts, is both done by them, and\nthey have also left us rules to enable us to do so too; and I may say the\nsame of contraries; from which they came to genera, and to the forms of\ngenera. Now, they make those things which they call evident, the beginning\nof an argument concluded by reason: then they follow an orderly\narrangement; and the conclusion at last shows what is true in the separate\npropositions. But what a great variety of arguments, which lead to\nconclusions according to reason, do they give us, and how dissimilar are\nthey to captious questions! What shall we say of their denouncing, as it\nwere, in many places, that we ought neither entirely to trust our senses\nwhen unsupported by reason, nor reason when unsupported by our senses; but\nthat, at the same time, we ought to keep the line between the two clearly\nmarked? What shall I say more? Were not all the precepts which the\ndialecticians now deliver and teach, originally discovered and established\nby them? And although they were very much elaborated by Chrysippus, still\nthey were much less practised by Zeno than by the ancients. And there were\nseveral things in which he did not improve on the ancients; and some which\nhe never touched at all. And as there are two arts by which reason and\noratory are brought to complete perfection, one that of discovering, the\nother that of arguing,\u2014both the Stoics and Peripatetics have handed us\ndown this latter, but the Peripatetics alone have given us rules for the\nformer, while the Stoics have altogether avoided it. For the men of your\nschool never even suspected the places from which arguments might be drawn\nas out of magazines; but the Peripatetics taught a regular system and\nmethod.\n\nAnd the consequence is, that it is not necessary for one now to be always\nrepeating a sort of dictated lesson on the same subject, or to be afraid\nto go beyond one\u2019s note-books: for he who knows where everything is\nplaced, and how he can arrive at it, even if anything be completely\nburied, will be able to dig it up, and will always have his wits about him\nin every discussion. And although men who are endowed with great\nabilities, attain to a certain copiousness of eloquence without any\ndefinite principles of oratory, still art is a surer guide than nature.\nFor it is one thing to pour out words after the fashion of poets, and\nanother to distinguish on settled principles and rules all that you say.\n\nV. Similar things may be said about the explanation of natural philosophy,\nwhich both the Peripatetics and Stoics apply themselves to; and that not\non two accounts only, as Epicurus thinks, namely, to get rid of the fears\nof death and of religion; but besides this, the knowledge of heavenly\nthings imparts some degree of modesty to those who see what great\nmoderation and what admirable order there is likewise among the gods: it\ninspires them also with magnanimity when they contemplate the arts and\nworks of the gods; and justice, too, when they come to know how great is\nthe power and wisdom, and what the will is also, of the supreme ruler and\nmaster of the world, whose reason, in accordance with nature, is called by\nphilosophers the true and supreme law. There is in the same study of\nnature, an insatiable kind of pleasure derived from the knowledge of\nthings; the only pleasure in which, when all our necessary actions are\nperformed, and when we are free from business, we can live honourably, and\nas becomes free men. Therefore, in the whole of this ratiocination on\nsubjects of the very highest importance, the Stoics have for the most part\nfollowed the Peripatetics; so far at all events as to admit that there are\ngods, and to assert that everything consists of one of four elements. But\nwhen an exceedingly difficult question was proposed, namely, whether there\ndid not seem to be a sort of fifth nature from which reason and\nintelligence sprang; (in which question another was involved respecting\nthe mind, as to what class that belonged to;) Zeno said that it was fire;\nand then he said a few more things\u2014very few, in a novel manner; but\nconcerning the most important point of all, he spoke in the same way,\nasserting that the universal world, and all its most important parts, were\nregulated by the divine intellect and nature of the gods. But as for the\nmatter and richness of facts, we shall find the Stoics very poorly off,\nbut the Peripatetics very rich.\n\nWhat numbers of facts have been investigated and accumulated by them with\nrespect to the genus, and birth, and limbs, and age of all kinds of\nanimals! and in like manner with respect to those things which are\nproduced out of the earth! How many causes have they developed, and in\nwhat numerous cases, why everything is done, and what numerous\ndemonstrations have they laid open how everything is done! And from this\ncopiousness of theirs most abundant and undeniable arguments are derived\nfor the explanation of the nature of everything. Therefore, as far as I\nunderstand, there is no necessity at all for any change of name. For it\ndoes not follow that, though he may have differed from the Peripatetics in\nsome points, he did not arise out of them. And I, indeed, consider\nEpicurus, as far as his natural philosophy is concerned, as only another\nDemocritus: he alters very few of his doctrines; and I should think him so\neven if he had changed more: but in numerous instances, and certainly on\nall the most important points, he coincides with him exactly. And though\nthe men of your school do this, they do not show sufficient gratitude to\nthe original discoverers.\n\nVI. But enough of this. Let us now, I beg, consider the chief good, which\ncontains all philosophy, and see whether Zeno has brought forward any\nreason for dissenting from the original discoverers and parents of it, as\nI may call them. While speaking, then, on this topic\u2014although, Cato, this\nsummit of goods, which contains all philosophy, has been carefully\nexplained by you, and though you have told us what is considered so by the\nStoics, and in what sense it is called so\u2014yet I also will give my\nexplanation, in order that we may see clearly, if we can, what new\ndoctrine has been introduced into the question by Zeno. For as preceding\nphilosophers, and Polemo most explicitly of all, had said that the chief\ngood was to live according to nature, the Stoics say that three things are\nsignified by these words: one, that a man should live exercising a\nknowledge of those things which happen by nature; and they say that this\nis the chief good of Zeno, who declares, as has been said by you, that it\nconsists in living in a manner suitable to nature: the second meaning is\nmuch the same as if it were said that a man ought to live attending to\nall, or nearly all, the natural and intermediate duties. But this, when\nexplained in this manner, is different from the former. For the former is\nright, which you called \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03cc\u03c1\u03b8\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1, and it happens to the wise man alone;\nbut this is only a duty which is begun and not perfected, and this may\nhappen to some who are far from being wise: the third is that a man should\nlive, enjoying all things, or at least all the most important things which\nare according to nature; but this does not always depend on ourselves, for\nit is perfected both out of that kind of life which is bounded by virtue,\nand out of those things which are according to nature, and which are not\nin our own power.\n\nBut this chief good, which is understood in the third signification of the\ndefinition, and that life which is passed in conformity with that good,\ncan happen to the wise man alone, because virtue is connected with it. And\nthat summit of good, as we see it expressed by the Stoics themselves, was\nlaid down by Xenocrates and by Aristotle; and so that first arrangement of\nthe principles of nature, with which you also began, is explained by them\nin almost these very words.\n\nVII. All nature desires to be a preserver of itself, in order that it may\nbe both safe itself, and that it may be preserved in its kind. They say\nthat for this end arts have been invented to assist nature, among which\nthat is accounted one of the most important which is the art of living so\nas to defend what has been given by nature, and to acquire what is\nwanting; and, at the same time, they have divided the nature of man into\nmind and body. And, as they said that each of these things was desirable\nfor its own sake, so also they said that the virtues of each of them were\ndesirable for their own sake. But when they extolled the mind with\nboundless praises, and preferred it to the body, they at the same time\npreferred the virtues of the mind to the goods of the body.\n\nBut, as they asserted that wisdom was the guardian and regulator of the\nentire man, being the companion and assistant of nature, they said that\nthe especial office of wisdom was to defend the being who consisted of\nmind and body,\u2014to assist him and support him in each particular. And so,\nthe matter being first laid down simply, pursuing the rest of the argument\nwith more subtlety, they thought that the goods of the body admitted of an\neasy explanation, but they inquired more accurately into those of the\nmind. And, first of all, they found out that they contained the seeds of\njustice; and they were the first of all philosophers to teach that the\nprinciple that those which were the offspring should be beloved by their\nparents, was implanted in all animals by nature; and they said, also, that\nthat which precedes the birth of offspring, in point of time,\u2014namely, the\nmarriage of men and women,\u2014was a bond of union suggested by nature, and\nthat this was the root from which the friendships between relations\nsprang. And, beginning with these first principles, they proceeded to\ninvestigate the origin and progress of all the virtues; by which course a\ngreat magnanimity was engendered, enabling them easily to resist and\nwithstand fortune, because the most important events were in the power of\nthe wise man; and a life conducted according to the precepts of the\nancient philosophers was easily superior to all the changes and injuries\nof fortune.\n\nBut when these foundations had been laid by nature, certain great\nincreases of good were produced,\u2014some arising from the contemplation of\nmore secret things, because there is a love of knowledge innate in the\nmind, in which also the fondness for explaining principles and for\ndiscussing them originates; and because man is the only animal which has\nany share of shame or modesty; and because he also covets union and\nsociety with other men, and takes pains in everything which he does or\nsays, that he may do nothing which is not honourable and becoming;\u2014these\nfoundations being, as I have said, implanted in us by nature like so many\nseeds, temperance, and modesty, and justice, and all virtue, was brought\nto complete perfection.\n\nVIII. You here, O Cato, have a sketch of the philosophers of whom I am\nspeaking; and, now that I have given you this, I wish to know what reason\nthere is why Zeno departed from their established system; and which of all\ntheir doctrines it was that he disapproved of? Did he object to their\ncalling all nature a preserver of itself?\u2014or to their saying that every\nanimal was naturally fond of itself, so as to wish to be safe and\nuninjured in its kind?\u2014or, as the end of all arts is to arrive at what\nnature especially requires, did he think that the same principle ought to\nbe laid down with respect to the art of the entire life?\u2014or, since we\nconsist of mind and body, did he think that these and their excellences\nought to be chosen for their own sakes?\u2014or was he displeased with the\npreeminence which is attributed by the Peripatetics to the virtue of the\nmind?\u2014or did he object to what they said about prudence, and the knowledge\nof things, and the union of the human race, and temperance, and modesty,\nand magnanimity, and honourableness in general? The Stoics must confess\nthat all these things were excellently explained by the others, and that\nthey gave no reason to Zeno for deserting their school. They must allege\nsome other excuse.\n\nI suppose they will say that the errors of the ancients were very great,\nand that he, being desirous of investigating the truth, could by no means\nendure them. For what can be more perverse\u2014what can be more intolerable,\nor more stupid, than to place good health, and freedom from all pain, and\nsoundness of the eyes and the rest of the senses, among the goods, instead\nof saying that there is no difference at all between them and their\ncontraries? For that all those things which the Peripatetics called goods,\nwere only things preferable, not good. And also that the ancients had been\nvery foolish when they said that these excellences of the body were\ndesirable for their own sake: they were to be accepted, but not to be\ndesired. And the same might be said of all the other circumstances of\nlife, which consists of nothing but virtue alone,\u2014that that life which is\nrich also in the other things which are according to nature is not more to\nbe desired on that account, but only more to be accepted; and, though\nvirtue itself makes life so happy that a man cannot be happier, still\nsomething is wanting to wise men, even when they are most completely\nhappy; and that they labour to repel pain, disease, and debility.\n\nIX. Oh, what a splendid force is there in such genius, and what an\nexcellent reason is this for setting up a new school! Go on; for it will\nfollow,\u2014and, indeed, you have most learnedly adopted the principle,\u2014that\nall folly, and all injustice, and all other vices are alike, and that all\nerrors are equal; and that those who have made great progress, through\nnatural philosophy and learning, towards virtue, if they have not arrived\nat absolute perfection in it, are completely miserable, and that there is\nno difference between their life and that of the most worthless of men,\u2014as\nPlato, that greatest of men, if he was not thoroughly wise, lived no\nbetter, and in no respect more happily, than the most worthless of men.\nThis is, forsooth, the Stoic correction and improvement of the old\nphilosophy; but it can never find any entrance into the city, or the\nforum, or the senate-house. For who could endure to hear a man, who\nprofessed to be a teacher of how to pass life with dignity and wisdom,\nspeaking in such a manner\u2014altering the names of things; and though he was\nin reality of the same opinion as every one else, still giving new names\nto the things to which he attributed just the same force that others did,\nwithout proposing the least alteration in the ideas to be entertained of\nthem? Would the advocate of a cause, when summing up for a defendant, deny\nthat exile or the confiscation of his client\u2019s property was an evil?\u2014that\nthese things were to be rejected, though not to be fled from?\u2014or would he\nsay that a judge ought not to be merciful?\n\nBut if he were speaking in the public assembly,\u2014if Hannibal had arrived at\nthe gates and had driven his javelin into the wall, would he deny that it\nwas an evil to be taken prisoner, to be sold, to be slain, to lose one\u2019s\ncountry? Or could the senate, when it was voting a triumph to Africanus,\nhave expressed itself,\u2014Because by his virtue and good fortune ... if there\ncould not properly be said to be any virtue or any good fortune except in\na wise man? What sort of a philosophy, then, is that which speaks in the\nordinary manner in the forum, but in a peculiar style of its own in books?\nespecially when, as they intimate themselves in all they say, no\ninnovations are made by them in the facts,\u2014none of the things themselves\nare changed, but they remain exactly the same, though in another manner.\nFor what difference does it make whether you call riches, and power, and\nhealth goods, or only things preferred, as long as the man who calls them\ngoods attributes no more to them than you do who call them things\npreferred? Therefore, Pan\u00e6tius\u2014a noble and dignified man, worthy of the\nintimacy which he enjoyed with Scipio and L\u00e6lius\u2014when he was writing to\nQuintus Tubero on the subject of bearing pain, never once asserted, what\nought to have been his main argument, if it could have been proved, that\npain was not an evil; but he explained what it was, and what its character\nwas, and what amount of disagreeableness there was in it, and what was the\nproper method of enduring it; and (for he, too, was a Stoic) all that\npreposterous language of the school appears to me to be condemned by these\nsentiments of his.\n\nX. But, however, to come, O Cato, more closely to what you have been\nsaying, let us treat this question more narrowly, and compare what you\nhave just said with those assertions which I prefer to yours. Now, those\narguments which you employ in common with the ancients, we may make use of\nas admitted. But let us, if you please, confine our discussion to those\nwhich are disputed. I do please, said he: I am very glad to have the\nquestion argued with more subtlety, and, as you call it, more closely; for\nwhat you have hitherto advanced are mere popular assertions, but from you\nI expect something more elegant. From me? said I. However, I will try;\nand, if I cannot find arguments enough, I will not be above having\nrecourse to those which you call popular.\n\nBut let me first lay down this position, that we are so recommended to\nourselves by nature, and that we have this principal desire implanted in\nus by nature, that our first wish is to preserve ourselves. This is\nagreed. It follows, that we must take notice what we are, that so we may\npreserve ourselves in that character of which we ought to be. We are,\ntherefore, men: we consist of mind and body,\u2014which are things of a\nparticular description,\u2014and we ought, as our first natural desire\nrequires, to love these parts of ourselves, and from them to establish\nthis summit of the chief and highest good, which, if our first principles\nare true, must be established in such a way as to acquire as many as\npossible of those things which are in accordance with nature, and\nespecially all the most important of them. This, then, is the chief good\nwhich they aimed at. I have expressed it more diffusely,\u2014they call it\nbriefly, living according to nature. This is what appears to them to be\nthe chief good.\n\nXI. Come, now let them teach us, or rather do so yourself, (for who is\nbetter able?) in what way you proceed from these principles, and prove\nthat to live honourably (for that is the meaning of living according to\nvirtue, or in a manner suitable to nature) is the chief good; and in what\nmanner, or in what place, you on a sudden get rid of the body, and leave\nall those things which, as they are according to nature, are out of our\nown power; and, lastly, how you get rid of duty itself.\n\nI ask, therefore, how it is that all these recommendations, having\nproceeded from nature, are suddenly abandoned by wisdom? But if it were\nnot the chief good of man that we were inquiring into, but only that of\nsome animal, and if he were nothing except mind (for we may make such a\nsupposition as that, in order more easily to discover the truth), still\nthis chief good of yours would not belong to that mind. For it would wish\nfor good health, for freedom from pain; it would also desire the\npreservation of itself, and the guardianship of these qualities, and it\nwould appoint as its own end to live according to nature, which is, as I\nhave said, to have those things which are according to nature, either all\nof them, or most of them, and all the most important ones. For whatever\nkind of animal you make him out, it is necessary, even though he be\nincorporeal, as we are supposing him, still that there must be in the mind\nsomething like those qualities which exist in the body; so that the chief\ngood cannot possibly be defined in any other manner but that which I have\nmentioned.\n\nBut Chrysippus, when explaining the differences between living creatures,\nsays, that some excel in their bodies, others in their minds, some in\nboth. And then he argues that there ought to be a separate chief good for\neach description of creature. But as he had placed man in such a class\nthat he attributed to him excellence of mind, he determined that his chief\ngood was not that he appeared to excel in mind, but that he appeared to be\nnothing else but mind.\n\nXII. But in one case the chief good might rightly be placed in virtue\nalone, if there were any animal which consisted wholly of mind; and that,\ntoo, in such a manner that that mind had in itself nothing that was\naccording to nature, as health is. But it cannot even be imagined what\nkind of thing that is, so as not to be inconsistent with itself. But if he\nsays that some things are obscure, and are not visible because they are\nvery small, we also admit that; as Epicurus says of pleasure, that those\npleasures which are very small are often obscured and overwhelmed. But\nthat kind has not so many advantages of body, nor any which last so long,\nor are so great. Therefore, in those in which obscuration follows because\nof their littleness, it often happens that we confess that it makes no\ndifference to us whether they exist at all or not; just as when the sun is\nout, as you yourself said, it is of no consequence to add the light of a\ncandle, or to add a penny to the riches of Cr\u0153sus. But in those matters in\nwhich so great an obscuration does not take place, it may still be the\ncase, that the matter which makes a difference is of no great consequence.\nAs if, when a man had lived ten years agreeably, an additional month\u2019s\nlife of equal pleasantness were given to him, it would be good, because\nany addition has some power to produce what is agreeable; but if that is\nnot admitted, it does not follow that a happiness of life is at once put\nan end to.\n\nBut the goods of the body are more like this instance which I have just\nmentioned. For they admit of additions worthy of having pains taken about\nthem; so that on this point the Stoics appear to me sometimes to be\njoking, when they say that, if a bottle or a comb were given as an\naddition to a life which is being passed with virtue, a wise man would\nrather choose that life, because these additions were given to it, but yet\nthat he would not be happier on that account. Now, is not this simile to\nbe upset by ridicule rather than by serious discourse? For who would not\nbe deservedly ridiculed, if he were anxious whether he had another bottle\nor not? But if any one relieves a person from any affection of the limbs,\nor from the pain of any disease, he will receive great gratitude. And if\nthat wise man of yours is put on the rack of torture by a tyrant, he will\nnot display the same countenance as if he had lost his bottle; but, as\nentering upon a serious and difficult contest, seeing that he will have to\nfight with a capital enemy, namely, pain, he will summon up all his\nprinciples of fortitude and patience, by whose assistance he will proceed\nto face that difficult and important battle, as I have called it.\n\nWe will not inquire, then, what is obscured, or what is destroyed, because\nit is something very small; but what is of such a character as to complete\nthe whole sum of happiness. One pleasure out of many may be obscured in\nthat life of pleasure; but still, however small an one it may be, it is a\npart of that life which consists wholly of pleasure. One coin is lost of\nthe riches of Cr\u0153sus, still it is a part of his riches. Wherefore those\nthings, too, which we say are according to nature, may be obscured in a\nhappy life, still they must be parts of the happy life.\n\nXIII. But if, as we ought to agree, there is a certain natural desire\nwhich longs for those things which are according to nature, then, when\ntaken altogether, they must be considerable in amount. And if this point\nis established, then we may be allowed to inquire about those things at\nour leisure, and to investigate the greatness of them, and their\nexcellence, and to examine what influence each has on living happily, and\nalso to consider the very obscurations themselves, which, on account of\ntheir smallness, are scarcely ever, or I may say never, visible.\n\nWhat should I say about that as to which there is no dispute? For there is\nno one who denies that that which is the standard to which everything is\nreferred resembles every nature, and that is the chief thing which is to\nbe desired. For every nature is attached to itself. For what nature is\nthere which ever deserts itself, or any portion of itself, or any one of\nits parts or faculties, or, in short, any one of those things, or motions,\nor states which are in accordance with nature? And what nature has ever\nbeen forgetful of its original purpose and establishment? There has never\nbeen one which does not observe this law from first to last. How, then,\ndoes it happen that the nature of man is the only one which ever abandons\nman, which forgets the body, which places the chief good, not in the whole\nman, but in a part of man? And how, as they themselves admit, and as is\nagreed upon by all, will it be preserved, so that that ultimate good of\nnature, which is the subject of our inquiry, shall resemble every nature?\nFor it would resemble them, if in other natures also there were some\nultimate point of excellence. For then that would seem to be the chief\ngood of the Stoics. Why, then, do you hesitate to alter the principles of\nnature? For why do you say that every animal, the moment that it is born,\nis prone to feel love for itself, and is occupied in its own preservation?\nWhy do you not rather say that every animal is inclined to that which is\nmost excellent in itself, and is occupied in the guardianship of that one\nthing, and that the other natures do nothing else but preserve that\nquality which is the best in each of them? But how can it be the best, if\nthere is nothing at all good besides? But if the other things are to be\ndesired, why, then, is not that which is the chief of all desirable things\ninferred from the desire of all those things, or of the most numerous and\nimportant of them? as Phidias can either begin a statue from the\nbeginning, and finish it, or he can take one which has been begun by\nanother, and complete that.\n\nNow wisdom is like this: for wisdom is not herself the parent of man, but\nshe has received him after he has been commenced by nature. And without\nregard to her, she ought to complete that work of her\u2019s, as an artist\nwould complete a statue. What kind of man, then, is it that nature has\ncommenced? and what is the office and task of wisdom? What is it that\nought to be finished and completed by her? If there is nothing to be made\nfurther in man, except some kind of motion of the mind, that is to say,\nreason, then it follows, that the ultimate object is to mould the life\naccording to virtue. For the perfection of reason is virtue. If there is\nnothing but body, then the chief goods must be good health, freedom from\npain, beauty, and so on. The question at this moment is about the chief\ngood of man.\n\nXIV. Why do we hesitate, then, to inquire as to his whole nature, what has\nbeen done? For as it is agreed by all, that the whole duty and office of\nwisdom is to be occupied about the cultivation of man, some (that you may\nnot think that I am arguing against none but the Stoics) bring forward\nopinions in which they place the chief good among things of a kind which\nare wholly out of our own power, just as if they were speaking of one of\nthe brute beasts; others, on the contrary, as if man had no body at all,\nso entirely exclude everything from their consideration except the mind,\n(and this, too, while the mind itself, in their philosophy, is not some\nunintelligible kind of vacuum, but something which exists in some\nparticular species of body,) that even that is not content with virtue\nalone, but requires freedom from pain. So that both these classes do the\nsame thing, as if they neglected the left side of a man, and took care\nonly of the right; or as if they (as Herillus did) attended only to the\nknowledge of the mind itself, and passed over all action. For it is but a\ncrippled system which all those men set up who pass over many things, and\nselect some one in particular to adhere to. But that is a perfect and full\nsystem which those adopt who, while inquiring about the chief good of man,\npass over in their inquiry no part either of his mind or body, so as to\nleave it unprotected. But your school, O Cato, because virtue holds, as we\nall admit, the highest and most excellent place in man, and because we\nthink those who are wise men, perfect and admirable men, seeks entirely to\ndazzle the eyes of our minds with the splendour of virtue. For in every\nliving creature there is some one principal and most excellent thing, as,\nfor instance, in horses and dogs; but those must be free from pain and in\ngood health. Therefore, you do not seem to me to pay sufficient attention\nto what the general path and progress of nature is. For it does not pursue\nthe same course in man that it does in corn, (which, when it has advanced\nit from the blade to the ear, it leaves and considers the stubble as\nnothing,) and leave him as soon as it has conducted him to a state of\nreason. For it is always taking something additional, without ever\nabandoning what it has previously given. Therefore, it has added reason to\nthe senses; and when it has perfected his reason, it still does not\nabandon the senses.\n\nAs if the culture of the vine, the object of which is to cause the vine,\nwith all its parts, to be in the best possible condition, (however that is\nwhat we understand it to be, for one may, as you often do yourselves,\nsuppose anything for the purpose of illustration,) if, then, that culture\nof the vine be in the vine itself, it would, I presume, desire everything\nelse which concerns the cultivation of the vine, to be as it has been\nbefore. But it would prefer itself to every separate part of the vine, and\nit would feel sure that nothing in the vine was better than itself. In\nlike manner sense, when it has been added to nature, protects it indeed,\nbut it also protects itself. But when reason is also added, then it is\nplaced in a position of such predominant power, that all those first\nprinciples of nature are put under its guardianship. Therefore it does not\nabandon the care of those things over which it is so set, that its duty is\nto regulate the entire life: so that we cannot sufficiently marvel at\ntheir inconsistency. For they assert that the natural appetite, which they\ncall \u1f41\u03c1\u03bc\u1f74, and also duty, and even virtue herself, are all protectors of\nthose things which are according to nature. But when they wish to arrive\nat the chief good, they overleap everything, and leave us two tasks\ninstead of one\u2014namely, to choose some things and desire others, instead of\nincluding both under one head.\n\nXV. But now you say that virtue cannot properly be established, if those\nthings which are external to virtue have any influence on living happily.\nBut the exact contrary is the case. For virtue cannot possibly be\nintroduced, unless everything which it chooses and which it neglects is\nall referred to one general end. For if we entirely neglect ourselves, we\nthen fall into the vices and errors of Ariston, and shall forget the\nprinciples which we have attributed to virtue itself. But if we do not\nneglect those things, and yet do not refer them to the chief good, we\nshall not be very far removed from the trivialities of Herillus. For we\nshall have to adopt two different plans of conduct in life: for he makes\nout that there are two chief goods unconnected with each other; but if\nthey were real goods, they ought to be united; but at present they are\nseparated, so that they never can be united. But nothing can be more\nperverse than this. Therefore, the fact is exactly contrary to your\nassertion: for virtue cannot possibly be established firmly, unless it\nmaintains those things which are the principles of nature as having an\ninfluence on the object. For we have been looking for a virtue which\nshould preserve nature, not for one which should abandon it. But that of\nyours, as you represent it, preserves only one part, and abandons the\nrest.\n\nAnd, indeed, if the custom of man could speak, this would be its language.\nThat its first beginnings were, as it were, beginnings of desire that it\nmight preserve itself in that nature in which it had been born. For it had\nnot yet been sufficiently explained what nature desired above all things.\nLet it therefore be explained. What else then will be understood but that\nno part of nature is to be neglected? And if there is nothing in it\nbesides reason, then the chief good must be in virtue alone. But if there\nis also body, then will that explanation of nature have caused us to\nabandon the belief which we held before the explanation. Is it, then,\nbeing in a manner suitable to nature to abandon nature? As some\nphilosophers do, when having begun with the senses they have seen\nsomething more important and divine, and then abandoned the senses; so,\ntoo, these men, when they had beheld the beauty of virtue developed in its\ndesire for particular things, abandoned everything which they had seen for\nthe sake of virtue herself, forgetting that the whole nature of desirable\nthings was so extensive that it remained from beginning to end; and they\ndo not understand that they are taking away the very foundations of these\nbeautiful and admirable things.\n\nXVI. Therefore, all those men appear to me to have made a blunder who have\npronounced the chief good to be to live honourably. But some have erred\nmore than others,\u2014Pyrrho above all, who, having fixed on virtue as the\nchief good, refuses to allow that there is anything else in the world\ndeserving of being desired; and, next to him, Aristo, who did not, indeed,\nventure to leave nothing else to be desired, but who introduced influence,\nby which a wise man might be excited, and desire whatever occurred to his\nmind, and whatever even appeared so to occur. He was more right than\nPyrrho, inasmuch as he left man some kind of desire; but worse than the\nrest, inasmuch as he departed wholly from nature: but the Stoics, because\nthey place the chief good in virtue alone, resemble these men: but\ninasmuch as they seek for a principle of duty, they are superior to\nPyrrho; and as they do not admit the desire of those objects which offer\nthemselves to the imagination, they are more correct than Aristo; but,\ninasmuch as they do not add the things which they admit to be adopted by\nnature, and to be worthy of being chosen for their own sakes, to the chief\ngood, they here desert nature, and are in some degree not different from\nAristo: for he invented some strange kinds of occurrences; but these men\nrecognise, indeed, the principles of nature, but still they disconnect\nthem from the perfect and chief good; and when they put them forward, so\nthat there may be some selection of things, they appear to follow nature;\nbut when they deny that they have any influence in making life happy, they\nagain abandon nature.\n\nAnd hitherto I have been showing how destitute Zeno was of any good reason\nfor abandoning the authority of previous philosophers: now let us consider\nthe rest of his arguments; unless, indeed, O Cato, you wish to make any\nreply to what I have been saying, or unless we are getting tedious.\nNeither, said he; for I wish this side of the question to be completely\nargued by you; nor does your discourse seem to me to be at all tedious. I\nam glad to hear it, I replied; for what can be more desirable for me than\nto discuss the subject of virtue with Cato, who is the most virtuous of\nmen in every point? But, first of all, remark that that imposing sentiment\nof yours, which brings a whole family after it, namely, that what is\nhonourable is the only good, and that to live honourably is the chief\ngood, will be shared in common with you by all who define the chief good\nas consisting in virtue alone; and, as to what you say, that virtue cannot\nbe formed if anything except what is honourable is included in the\naccount, the same statement will be made by those whom I have just named.\nBut it appeared to me to be fairer, advancing from one common beginning,\nto see where Zeno, while disputing with Polemo, from whom he had learnt\nwhat the principles of nature were, first took his stand, and what the\noriginal cause of the controversy was; and not to stand on their side, who\ndid not even allow that their own chief good was derived from nature, and\nto employ the same arguments which they did, and to maintain the same\nsentiments.\n\nXVII. But I am very far from approving this conduct of yours, that when\nyou have proved, as you imagine, that that alone is good which is\nhonourable, then say again that it is necessary that beginnings should be\nput forward which are suitable and adapted to nature; by a selection from\nwhich virtue might be called into existence. For virtue ought not to have\nbeen stated to consist in selection, so that that very thing which was\nitself the chief good, was to acquire something besides itself; for all\nthings which are to be taken, or chosen, or desired, ought to exist in the\nchief good, so that he who has attained that may want nothing more. Do you\nnot see how evident it is to those men whose chief good consists in\npleasure, what they ought to do and what they ought not? so that no one of\nthem doubts what all their duties ought to regard, what they ought to\npursue, or avoid. Let this, then, be the chief good which is now defended\nby me; it will be evident in a moment what are the necessary duties and\nactions. But you, who set before yourselves another end except what is\nright and honourable, will not be able to find out where your principle of\nduty and action is to originate.\n\nTherefore you are all of you seeking for this, and so are those who say\nthat they pursue whatever comes into their mind and occurs to them; and\nyou return to nature. But nature will fairly reply to you, that it is not\ntrue that the chief happiness of life is to be sought in another quarter,\nbut the principles of action in herself: for that there is one system\nonly, in which both the principles of action and the chief good too is\ncontained; and that, as the opinion of Aristo is exploded, when he says\nthat one thing does not differ from another, and that there is nothing\nexcept virtue and vice in which there was any difference whatever; so,\ntoo, Zeno was in the wrong, who affirmed that there was no influence in\nanything, except virtue or vice, of the very least power to assist in the\nattainment of the chief good: and as that had no influence on making life\nhappy, but only in creating a desire for things, he said that there was\nsome power of attraction in them: just as if this desire had no reference\nto the acquisition of the chief good. But what can be less consistent than\nwhat they say, namely, that when they have obtained the knowledge of the\nchief good they then return to nature, in order to seek in it the\nprinciple of action, that is to say, of duty? For it is not the principle\nof action or duty which impels them to desire those things which are\naccording to nature; but desire and action are both set in motion by those\nthings.\n\nXVIII. Now I come to those brief statements of yours which you call\nconclusions; and first of all to that\u2014than which, certainly, nothing can\nbe more brief\u2014that \"everything good is praiseworthy; but everything\npraiseworthy is honourable; therefore everything good is honourable.\" Oh,\nwhat a leaden dagger!\u2014for who will grant you your first premises? And if\nit should be granted to you, then you have no need of the second: for if\neverything good is praiseworthy, so is everything honourable; who, then,\nwill grant you this, except Pyrrho, Aristo, and men like them?\u2014whom you do\nnot approve of. Aristotle, Xenocrates, and all that school, will not grant\nit; inasmuch as they call health, strength, riches, glory, and many other\nthings good, but not praiseworthy; and they therefore do not think that\nthe chief good is contained in virtue alone, though still they do prefer\nvirtue to everything else. What do you think that those men will do who\nhave utterly separated virtue from the chief good, Epicurus, Hieronymus,\nand those too, if indeed there are any such, who wish to defend the\ndefinition of the chief good given by Carneades? And how will Callipho and\nDiodorus be able to grant you what you ask, men who join to honourableness\nsomething else which is not of the same genus?\u2014Do you, then, think it\nproper, Cato, after you have assumed premises which no one will grant to\nyou, to derive whatever conclusion you please from them? Take this\nsorites, than which you think nothing can be more faulty: \u201cThat which is\ngood is desirable; that which is desirable ought to be sought for; that\nwhich ought to be sought for is praiseworthy,\u201d and so on through all the\nsteps. But I will stop here, for in the same manner no one will grant to\nyou that whatever ought to be sought is therefore praiseworthy; and that\nother argument of theirs is far from a legitimate conclusion, but a most\nstupid assertion, \u201cthat a happy life is one worthy of being boasted of.\u201d\nFor it can never happen that a person may reasonably boast, without\nsomething honourable in the circumstances. Polemo will grant this to Zeno;\nand so will his master, and the whole of that school, and all the rest\nwho, preferring virtue by far to everything else, still add something\nbesides to it in their definition of the chief good. For, if virtue be a\nthing worthy of being boasted of, as it is, and if it is so far superior\nto all other things that it can scarcely be expressed how much better it\nis; then a man may, possibly, be happy if endowed with virtue alone, and\ndestitute of everything else; and yet he will never grant to you that\nnothing whatever is to be classed among goods, except virtue.\n\nBut those men whose chief good has no virtue in it, will perhaps not grant\nto you that a happy life has anything in it of which a man can rightly\nboast, although they also, at times, represent virtues as subjects for\nboasting. You see, therefore, that you are either assuming propositions\nwhich are not admitted, or else such as, even if they are granted, will do\nyou no good.\n\nXIX. In truth, in all these conclusions, I should think this worthy both\nof philosophy and of ourselves,\u2014and that, too, most especially so when we\nwere inquiring into the chief good,\u2014that our lives, and designs, and\nwishes should be corrected, and not our expressions. For who, when he has\nheard those brief and acute arguments of yours which, as you say, give you\nso much pleasure, can ever have his opinion changed by them? For when men\nfix their attention on them, and wish to hear why pain is not an evil,\nthey tell him that to be in pain is a bitter, annoying, odious, unnatural\ncondition, and one difficult to be borne; but, because there is in pain no\nfraud, or dishonesty, or malice, or fault, or baseness, therefore it is\nnot an evil. Now, the man who hears this said, even if he does not care to\nlaugh, will still depart without being a bit more courageous as to bearing\npain than he was when he came. But you affirm that no one can be\ncourageous who thinks pain an evil. Why should he be more courageous if he\nthinks it\u2014what you yourself admit it to be\u2014bitter and scarcely endurable?\nFor timidity is generated by things, and not by words. And you say, that\nif one letter is moved, the whole system of the school will be undermined.\nDo I seem, then, to you to be moving a letter, or rather whole pages? For\nalthough the order of things, which is what you so especially extol, may\nbe preserved among them, and although everything may be well joined and\nconnected together, (for that is what you said,) still we ought not to\nfollow them too far, if arguments, having set out from false principles,\nare consistent with themselves, and do not wander from the end they\npropose to themselves.\n\nAccordingly, in his first establishment of his system, your master, Zeno,\ndeparted from nature; and as he had placed the chief good on that\nsuperiority of disposition which we call virtue, and had affirmed that\nthere was nothing whatever good which was not honourable, and that virtue\ncould have no real existence if in other things there were things of which\none was better or worse than another; having laid down these premises, he\nnaturally maintained the conclusions. You say truly; for I cannot deny it.\nBut the conclusions which follow from his premises are so false that the\npremises from which they are deduced cannot be true. For the\ndialecticians, you know, teach us that if the conclusions which follow\nfrom any premises are false, the premises from which they follow cannot be\ntrue. And so that conclusion is not only true, but so evident that even\nthe dialecticians do not think it necessary that any reasons should be\ngiven for it\u2014\u201cIf that is the case, this is; but this is not; therefore\nthat is not.\u201d And so, by denying your consequence, your premise is\ncontradicted. What follows, then?\u2014\u201cAll who are not wise are equally\nmiserable; all wise men are perfectly happy: all actions done rightly are\nequal to one another; all offences are equal.\u201d But, though all these\npropositions at first appear to be admirably laid down, after a little\nconsideration they are not so much approved of. For every man\u2019s own\nsenses, and the nature of things, and truth itself, cried out, after a\nfashion, that they could never be induced to believe that there was no\ndifference between those things which Zeno asserted to be equal.\n\nXX. Afterwards that little Ph\u0153nician of yours (for you know that the\npeople of Citium, your clients, came from Ph\u0153nicia), a shrewd man, as he\nwas not succeeding in his case, since nature herself contradicted him,\nbegan to withdraw his words; and first of all he granted in favour of\nthose things which we consider good, that they might be considered fit,\nand useful, and adapted to nature; and he began to confess that it was\nmore advantageous for a wise\u2014that is to say for a perfectly happy\u2014man, to\nhave those things which he does not venture indeed to call goods, but yet\nallows to be well adapted to nature. And he denies that Plato, if he were\nnot a wise man, would be in the same circumstances as the tyrant\nDionysius; for that to die was better for the one, because he despaired of\nattaining wisdom, but to live was better for the other, because of his\nhope of doing so. And he asserts that of offences some are tolerable, and\nsome by no means so, because many men passed by some offences, and there\nare others which very few people pass by, on account of the number of\nduties violated. Again, he said that some men are so foolish as to be\nutterly unable ever to arrive at wisdom; but that there are others who, if\nthey had taken pains, might have attained to it. Now, in this he expressed\nhimself differently from any one else, but he thought just the same as all\nthe rest. Nor did he think those things deserving of being valued less\nwhich he himself denied to be goods, than they did who considered them as\ngoods. What, then, did he wish to effect by having altered these names? At\nleast he would have taken something from their weight, and would have\nvalued them at rather less than the Peripatetics, in order to appear to\nthink in some respects differently from them, and not merely to speak so.\n\nWhat more need I say? What do you say about the happy life to which\neverything is referred? You affirm that it is not that life which is\nfilled with everything which nature requires; and you place it entirely in\nvirtue alone. And as every controversy is usually either about a fact or a\nname, both kinds of dispute arise if either the fact is not understood or\nif a mistake is made as to the name; and if neither of these is the case,\nwe must take care to use the most ordinary language possible, and words as\nsuitable as can be,\u2014that is, such as make the subject plain. Is it, then,\ndoubtful that if the former philosophers have not erred at all as to the\nfact itself, they certainly express themselves more conveniently? Let us,\nthen, examine their opinions, and then return to the question of names.\n\nXXI. They say that the desire of the mind is excited when anything appears\nto it to be according to nature; and that all things which are according\nto nature are worthy of some esteem; and that they deserve to be esteemed\nin proportion to the weight that there is in each of them: and that of\nthose things which are according to nature, some have in themselves\nnothing of that appetite of which we have already frequently spoken, being\nneither called honourable nor praiseworthy; and some, again, are\naccompanied by pleasure in the case of every animal, and in the case of\nman also with reason. And those of them which are suitable are honourable,\nbeautiful, and praiseworthy; but the others, mentioned before, are\nnatural, and, when combined with those which are honourable, make up and\ncomplete a perfectly happy life. But they say, too, that of all these\nadvantages\u2014to which those people do not attribute more importance who say\nthat they are goods, than Zeno does, who denies it\u2014by far the most\nexcellent is that which is honourable and praiseworthy; but that if two\nhonourable things are both set before one, one accompanied with good\nhealth and the other with sickness, it is not doubtful to which of them\nnature herself will conduct us: but, nevertheless, that the power of\nhonourableness is so great, and that it is so far better than, and\nsuperior to, everything else, that it can never be moved by any\npunishments or by any bribes from that which it has decided to be right;\nand that everything which appears hard, difficult, or unfortunate, can be\ndissipated by those virtues with which we have been adorned by nature; not\nbecause they are trivial or contemptible\u2014or else where would be the merit\nof the virtues?\u2014but that we might infer from such an event, that it was\nnot in them that the main question of living happily or unhappily\ndepended.\n\nIn short, the things which Zeno has called estimable, and worth choosing,\nand suitable to nature, they call goods; but they call that a happy life\nwhich consists of those things which I have mentioned, or, if not of all,\nat least of the greatest number of them, and of the most important. But\nZeno calls that the only good which has some peculiar beauty of its own to\nmake it desirable; and he calls that life alone happy which is passed with\nvirtue.\n\nXXII. If we are to discuss the reality of the case, then there cannot\npossibly, Cato, be any disagreement between you and me: for there is\nnothing on which you and I have different opinions; let us only compare\nthe real circumstances, after changing the names. Nor, indeed, did he fail\nto see this; but he was delighted with the magnificence and splendour of\nthe language: and if he really felt what he said, and what his words\nintimate, then what would be the difference between him and Pyrrho or\nAristo? But if he did not approve of them, then what was his object in\ndiffering in language with those men with whom he agreed in reality?\n\nWhat would you do if these Platonic philosophers, and those, too, who were\ntheir pupils, were to come to life again, and address you thus:\u2014\u201cAs, O\nMarcus Cato, we heard that you were a man exceedingly devoted to\nphilosophy, a most just citizen, an excellent judge, and a most\nconscientious witness, we marvelled what the reason was why you preferred\nthe Stoics to us; for they, on the subject of good and evil things,\nentertain those opinions which Zeno learnt from Polemo; and use those\nnames which, when they are first heard, excite wonder, but when they are\nexplained, move only ridicule. But if you approved those doctrines so\nmuch, why did you not maintain them in their own proper language? If\nauthority had influence with you, how was it that you preferred some\nstranger to all of us and to Plato himself? especially while you were\ndesirous to be a chief man in the republic, and might have been\naccomplished and equipped by us in a way to enable you to defend it to\nyour own great increase of dignity. For the means to such an end have been\ninvestigated, described, marked down, and enjoined by us; and we have\nwritten detailed accounts of the government of all republics, and their\ndescriptions, and constitutions, and changes,\u2014and even of the laws, and\ncustoms, and manners of all states. Moreover, how much eloquence, which is\nthe greatest ornament to leading men,\u2014in which, indeed, we have heard that\nyou are very eminent,\u2014might you have learnt, in addition to that which is\nnatural to you, from our records!\u201d When they had said this, what answer\ncould you have made to such men? I would have entreated you, said he, who\nhad dictated their speech to them, to speak likewise for me, or else\nrather to give me a little room to answer them myself, only that now I\nprefer listening to you; and yet at another time I should be likely to\nreply to them at the same time that I answer you.\n\nXXIII. But if you were to answer truly, Cato, you would be forced to say\nthis\u2014That you do not approve of those men, men of great genius and great\nauthority as they are. But that you have noticed that the things which, by\nreason of their antiquity they have failed to see, have been thoroughly\ncomprehended by the Stoics, and that these latter have discussed the same\nmatters with more acuteness, and have also entertained more dignified and\ncourageous sentiments, inasmuch as, in the first place, they deny that\ngood health is to be desired, though they admit that it may be chosen; not\nbecause to be well is a good, but because it is not to be utterly\ndisregarded, and yet that it does not appear to them of more value that it\ndoes to those who do not hesitate to call it a good. And that you could\nnot endure that those ancients, those bearded men (as we are in the habit\nof calling our own ancestors), should believe that the life of that man\nwho lived honourably, if he had also good health and a good reputation,\nand was rich, was more desirable, better, and more to be sought for, than\nthat of him who was equally a good man in many respects, like the Alcm\u00e6on\nof Ennius\u2014\n\n\n    Surrounded by disease, and exile sad,\n    And cruel want.\n\n\nThose ancients, then, must have been far from clever, to think that life\nmore desirable, better, and happier. But the Stoics think it only to be\npreferred if one has a choice; not because this life is happier, but\nbecause it is better adapted to nature; and they think that all who are\nnot wise are equally miserable. The Stoics, forsooth, thought this; but it\nhad entirely escaped the perception of those philosophers who preceded\nthem, for they thought that men stained with all sorts of parricide and\nwickedness were not at all more miserable than those who, though they\nlived purely and uprightly, had not yet attained complete wisdom.\n\nAnd while on this topic, you brought forth those similes which they are in\nthe habit of employing, which are, in truth, no similes at all. For who is\nignorant that, if many men should choose to emerge from the deep, those\nwould be nearer breathing who came close to the surface, but still would\nnot be actually able to breathe any more than those who are at the bottom?\nTherefore, on your principles, it is of no avail to make progress and\nadvancement in virtue, in order to be less utterly miserable before you\nhave actually arrived at it, since it is of no use in the case of men in\nthe water. And since puppies who are on the point of opening their eyes,\nare just as blind as those that are but this moment born; it is plain also\nthat Plato, as he had not yet seen wisdom, was as blind in his intellect\nas Phalaris.\n\nXXIV. These cases are not alike, Cato. For in these instances, though you\nmay have made a good deal of progress, still you are in exactly the same\nevil from which you wish to be free, till you have entirely escaped. For a\nman does not breathe till he has entirely emerged, and puppies are just as\nblind till they have opened their eyes, as if they were never going to\nopen them. I will give you some instances that really are like. One man\u2019s\neyes are bad, another is weak in his body; these men are both gradually\nrelieved by the daily application of remedies. The one gets better every\nday, and the other sees better. Now these men resemble all those who study\nvirtue. They are relieved of their vices; they are relieved of their\nerrors. Unless, perchance, you think that Tiberius Gracchus, the father,\nwas not happier than his son, when the one laboured to establish the\nrepublic, and the other to subvert it. And yet he was not a wise man. For\nwho taught him wisdom? or when? or where? or whence did he learn it?\nStill, because he consulted his twin glory and dignity, he had made great\nprogress in virtue.\n\nBut I will compare your grandfather, Drusus, with Caius Gracchus, who was\nnearly his contemporary. He healed the wounds which the other inflicted on\nthe republic. But there is nothing which makes men so miserable as impiety\nand wickedness. Grant that all those who are unwise are miserable, as, in\nfact, they are; still he is not equally miserable who consults the\ninterest of his country with him who wishes for its destruction.\nTherefore, those men are already a great deal relieved from their vices\nwho have made any considerable advance towards virtue. But the men of your\nschool admit that advance towards virtue can be made, but yet assert that\nno relief from vices takes place in consequence.\n\nBut it is worth while to consider on what arguments acute men rely for\nproving this point. Those arts, say they, of which the perfection can be\nincreased, show that the completeness of their contraries can likewise be\nincreased. But no addition can be made to the perfection of virtue.\nTherefore, also, vices will not be susceptible of any increase, for they\nare the contraries of virtues. Shall we say, then, that things which are\ndoubtful are made plain by things which are evident, or that things which\nare evident are obscured by things that are doubtful? But this is evident,\nthat different vices are greater in different people. This is doubtful,\nwhether any addition can be made to that which you call the chief good.\nBut you, while what you ought to do is to try and illustrate what is\ndoubtful by what is evident, endeavour to get rid of what is evident by\nwhat is doubtful. And, therefore, you will find yourself hampered by the\nsame reasoning which I used just now. For if it follows that some vices\nare not greater than others, because no addition can be made to that chief\ngood which you describe, since it is quite evident that the vices of all\nmen are not equal, you must change your definition of the chief good. For\nwe must inevitably maintain this rule, that when a consequence is false,\nthe premises from which the consequence proceeds cannot be true.\n\nXXV. What, then, is the cause of these difficulties? A vain-glorious\nparade in defining the chief good. For when it is positively asserted that\nwhat is honourable is the sole good, all care for one\u2019s health, all\nattention to one\u2019s estate, all regard for the government of the republic,\nall regularity in transacting business, all the duties of life, in short,\nare put an end to. Even that very honourableness, in which alone you\nassert that everything is comprised, must be abandoned. All which\narguments are carefully urged against Ariston by Chrysippus. And from that\nembarrassment it is that all those fallaciously speaking wiles, as Attius\ncalls them, have arisen. For because wisdom had no ground on which to rest\nher foot, when all the duties were taken away, (and duties were taken away\nwhen all power of selection and discrimination was denied; for what\nchoice, or what discrimination could there be when all things were so\ncompletely equal that there was no difference whatever between them?) from\nthese difficulties there arose worse errors than even those of Aristo. For\nhis arguments were at all events simple; those of your school are full of\ncraft.\n\nFor suppose you were to ask Aristo whether these things, freedom from\npain, riches, and good health, appear to him to be goods? He would deny\nit. What next? Suppose you ask him whether the contraries of these things\nare bad? He would deny that equally. Suppose you were to ask Zeno the same\nquestion? He would give you the same answer, word for word. Suppose\nfurther, that we, being full of astonishment, were to ask them both how it\nwill be possible for us to live, if we think that it makes not the least\ndifference to us whether we are well or sick; whether we are free from\npain or tormented by it; whether we are able or unable to endure cold and\nhunger? You will live, says Aristo, magnificently and excellently, doing\nwhatever seems good to you. You will never be vexed, you will never desire\nanything, you will never fear anything. What will Zeno say? He says that\nall these ideas are monstrous, and that it is totally impossible for any\none to live on these principles; but that there is some extravagant, some\nimmense difference between what is honourable and what is base; that\nbetween other things, indeed, there is no difference at all. He will also\nsay\u2014(listen to what follows, and do not laugh, if you can help it)\u2014all\nthose intermediate things, between which there is no difference, are\nnevertheless such that some of them are to be chosen, others rejected, and\nothers utterly disregarded; that is to say, that you may wish for some,\nwish to avoid others, and be totally indifferent about others. But you\nsaid just now, O Zeno, that there was no difference whatever between these\nthings. And now I say the same, he replies; and that there is no\ndifference whatever as respects virtues and vices. Well, I should like to\nknow who did not know that?\n\nXXVI. However, let us hear a little more. Those things, says he, which you\nhave mentioned, to be well, to be rich, to be free from pain, I do not\ncall goods; but I will call them in Greek \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b7\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1 (which you may\ntranslate by the Latin _producta_, though I prefer _pr\u00e6posita_ or\n_pr\u00e6cipua_, for they are more easily comprehended and more applicable\nterms). And again, the contraries, want, sickness, and pain, I do not call\nevils, though I have no objection to styling them (if you wish) things to\nbe rejected. And, therefore, I do not say that I seek for them first, but\nthat I choose them; not that I wish for them, but that I accept them. And\nso, too, I do not say that I flee from the contraries; but that I, as it\nwere, keep aloof from them. What says Aristotle and the rest of the\ndisciples of Plato? Why, that they call everything good which is according\nto nature; and that whatever is contrary to nature they call evil.\n\nDo you not see, then, that your master Zeno agrees with Aristo in words,\nbut differs from him as to facts; but that he agrees with Aristotle and\nthose other philosophers as to facts, but differs from them only in words?\nWhy, then, when we are agreed as to facts, do we not prefer speaking in\nthe ordinary manner? Let him teach me either that I shall be more prepared\nto despise money, if I reckon it only among things preferred, than if I\ncount it among goods; and that I shall have more fortitude to endure pain\nif I call it bitter, and difficult to bear, and contrary to nature, than\nif I pronounce it an evil. Marcus Piso, my intimate, also was a very witty\nman, and used to ridicule the Stoics for their language on this topic: for\nwhat was he used to say? \u201cYou deny that riches are a good, but call them\nsomething to be preferred. What good do you do by that? do you diminish\navarice? But if we mind words, then, in the first place, your expression,\nto be preferred, is longer than good.\u201d \u201cThat has nothing to do with the\nmatter.\u201d \u201cI dare say it has not, but still it is a more difficult\nexpression. For I do not know what the word good is derived from; but the\nword preferred I suppose means that it is preferred to other things. That\nappears to me to be important.\u201d Therefore, he insisted upon it, that more\nconsequence was attributed to riches by Zeno, who placed them among things\npreferred, than by Aristotle, who admitted that they were a good. Still he\ndid not say that they were a great good, but rather such an one as was to\nbe despised and scorned in comparison of what was right and honourable,\nand never one to be greatly sought after. And altogether, he argued in\nthis way, about all those expressions which had been altered by Zeno, both\nas to what he denied to be goods, and as to those things to which he\nreferred the name of evil; saying that the first received from him a more\njoyful title than they did from us; and the latter a more gloomy one.\n\nXXVII. Piso, then\u2014a most excellent man, and, as you well know, a great\nfriend of yours\u2014used to argue in this manner. And now let us make an end\nof this, after we have just said a few additional words. For it would take\na long time to reply to all your assertions.\n\nFor from the same tricks with words, originate all those kingdoms, and\ncommands, and riches, and universal dominion which you say belong to the\nwise man. You say besides, that he alone is handsome, he alone is free, he\nalone is a citizen; and that everything which is the contrary of all these\nthings belongs to the foolish man, who is also insane, as you assert they\ncall these assertions \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03ac\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03b1; we may call them marvellous. And yet what\nmarvel is there in them when you come nearer to them? I will just examine\nthe matter with you, and see what meaning you affix to each word; there\nshall be no dispute between us. You say that all offences are equal. I\nwill not speak to you now, as I spoke on the same subject when I was\ndefending Lucius Murena, whom you prosecuted; then I was addressing an\nunphilosophical audience; something too was to be directed to the\nbystanders in court; at present, we must proceed more precisely. In what\nway can all offences be called equal? Because nothing is more honourable\nthan what is honourable; nothing more base than what is base. Go on a\nlittle further, for there is a great dispute as to this point; let us\nexamine those arguments, which are especially your own, why all offences\nare equal. As, says he, in many lyres, if not one of them is so well in\ntune as to be able to preserve the harmony, all are equally out of tune;\nso because offences differ from what is right, they will differ equally;\ntherefore they are equal: now here we are being mocked with an ambiguous\nexpression. For it equally happens to all the lyres to be out of tune, but\nnot to them all to be equally out of tune. Therefore, that comparison does\nnot help you at all. For it would not follow if we were to say that every\navarice is equally avarice, that therefore every case of avarice was\nequal. Here is another simile which is no simile; for as, says he, a pilot\nblunders equally if he wrecks a ship loaded with straw, as if he wrecks\none loaded with gold; so, too, he sins equally who beats his parent, with\nhim who beats a slave unjustly. This is not seeing that it has no\nconnexion with the art of the pilot what cargo the ship carries: and\ntherefore that it makes no difference with respect to his steering well or\nill, whether his freight is straw or gold. But it can and ought to be\nunderstood what the difference is between a parent and a slave; therefore\nit makes no difference with respect to navigation, but a great deal with\nrespect to duty, what the description of thing may be which is affected by\nthe blunder. And if, in navigation, a ship has been wrecked through\ncarelessness, the offence then becomes more serious if gold is lost, than\nif it is only straw. For in all arts we insist upon the exercise of what\nis called common prudence; which all men who have the management of any\nbusiness entrusted to them are bound to possess. And so even in this\ninstance offences are not equal.\n\nXXVIII. However, they press on, and relax nothing. Since, say they, every\noffence is one of imbecility and inconsistency, and since these vices are\nequally great in all fools, it follows necessarily that offences are\nequal: as if it were admitted that vices are equally great in all fools,\nand that Lucius Tubulus was a man of the same imbecility and inconsistency\nas Publius Sc\u00e6vola, on whose motion he was condemned; and as if there were\nno difference at all between the things themselves which are the subject\nof the offences; so that, in proportion as they are more or less\nimportant, the offences committed in respect of them are so too.\n\nTherefore, for I may now bring this discourse to an end, your Stoics seem\nto me to be most especially open to this charge, that they fancy they can\nsupport two opposite propositions. For what is so inconsistent as for the\nsame person to say that what is honourable is the only good, and also that\nthe desire of things adapted for human life proceeds from nature? But when\nthey wish to maintain the arguments which are suitable for the former\npropositions, they agree with Aristo; when they avoid that, they in\nreality are upholding the same doctrines as the Peripatetics; they cling\nto words with great tenacity; and as they cannot bear to have them taken\nfrom them one after another, they become more fierce, and rough, and\nharsher both in their language and manners. But Pan\u00e6tius, wishing to avoid\ntheir moroseness and asperity, would not approve of either the bitterness\nof their sentiments, or their captious way of arguing: and so in one\nrespect he was more gentle, and in the other more intelligible. And he was\nalways quoting Plato, and Aristotle, and Xenocrates, and Theophrastus, and\nDic\u00e6archus, as his own writings show. And indeed, I feel very sure that it\nwould do you a great deal of good if you too were to study those authors\nwith care and diligence.\n\nBut since it is getting towards evening, and I must return to my villa, we\nwill stop this discussion at this point, but we will often return to it on\nother occasions. Indeed we will, said he, for what can we do better? And\nindeed I shall require of you to give me a hearing while I refute what you\nhave said; but recollect that you approve of all our opinions, charging us\nonly with using words incorrectly; but that we do not approve of one\nsingle one of your ideas. You are throwing a stone at me as I depart, said\nI; however, we shall see. And when we had thus spoken we separated.\n\n\n\n\nFifth Book Of The Treatise On The Chief Good And Evil.\n\n\nI. One day when I had been hearing Antiochus lecture, as I was in the\nhabit of doing, O Brutus, in company with Marcus Piso, in that gymnasium\nwhich is called Ptolemy\u2019s, my brother Quintus being with me, and Titus\nPomponius, and Lucius Cicero, our cousin on the father\u2019s side as to\nrelationship, but our own brother as to affection, we determined to take\nour afternoon\u2019s walk in the Academy, principally because at that time of\nday that place was free from any crowd. Accordingly, at the appointed time\nwe all met at Piso\u2019s house, and from thence we walked half-a-dozen\nfurlongs from the Dipylus to the Academy, beguiling the road with\ndiscourse on various subjects; and when we had arrived at the deservedly\ncelebrated space of the Academy, we there found the solitude which we\ndesired. Then said Piso\u2014Shall I say that this is implanted in us by\nnature, or by some mistake, that when we see those places which we have\nheard that men who deserve to be had in recollection have much frequented,\nwe are more moved than when we hear even of their actual deeds, or than\nwhen we read some one of their writings?\u2014just as I am affected now. For\nthe remembrance of Plato comes into my mind, whom we understand to have\nbeen the first person who was accustomed to dispute in this place; and\nwhose neighbouring gardens not only recal him vividly to my recollection,\nbut seem even to place the man himself before my eyes. Here Speusippus,\nhere Xenocrates, here his pupil Polemo used to walk; and the latter used\nto sit in the very spot which is now before us. There is our senate-house\n(I mean the Curia Hostilia,(48) not this new one, which always seems to me\nsmaller, though in fact it is larger): whenever I have looked upon that I\nhave always thought of Scipio, and Cato, and L\u00e6lius, and more especially\nof my own grandfather. So great a power of reminding one of circumstances\nexists in the places themselves, that it is not without reason that some\npeople have built up a system of memory in them. Then Quintus said\u2014It is\njust as you say, Piso: for as I was coming here just now, that district of\nColonos drew my attention to itself, whose inhabitant, Sophocles, was\nbrought at once before my eyes: for you know how I admire, and how I\ndelight in him: and accordingly a sort of appearance moved me, an\nunsubstantial one indeed, but still it did move me to a more vivid\nrecollection of \u0152dipus coming hither, and asking in most melodious verse\nwhat all these places were. Then Pomponius said\u2014I whom you all are always\nattacking as devoted to Epicurus, am often with Ph\u00e6drus, who is a\nparticular friend of mine, as you know, in the gardens of Epicurus, which\nwe passed by just this moment; but, according to the warning of the old\nproverb, I remember the living; still I may not forget Epicurus, even if\nwere to wish to do so, whose likeness our friends have not only in\npictures, but even on their goblets and rings.\n\nII. On this I chimed in:\u2014Our friend Pomponius, said I, appears to be\njoking, and perhaps he has a right to do so; for he has established\nhimself at Athens in such a way that he has almost become an Athenian, and\nindeed so as to seem likely to earn such a surname. But I, Piso, agree\nwith you that we do get into a habit of thinking a good deal more\nearnestly and deeply on illustrious men in consequence of the warnings of\nplace. For you know that once I went with you to Metapontum, and did not\nturn into the house of my entertainer until I had seen the very place\nwhere Pythagoras passed his life, and his house; and at this present time,\nalthough all over Athens there are many traces of eminent men in the\nplaces themselves, still I am greatly affected by this seat which is\nbefore me. For here Charmadas lately sat,\u2014a man whom I seem to see, for\nhis likeness is well known to me, and I can fancy that his voice is\nregretted by the very seat itself, deprived as it is now of such a\nbrilliant genius. Then Piso said\u2014Since, now, we have all said something,\nwhat does our friend Lucius think? is he glad to visit that spot where\nDemosthenes and \u00c6schines used to contend together? for every one is\nchiefly attracted by his own particular study. And he blushed, and\nanswered\u2014Do not ask me, who went down even to the harbour of Phalerum,\nwhere they say that Demosthenes used to declaim to the waves, in order to\naccustom himself to outvoice the roaring of the sea. I turned aside also\nout of the road, a little to the right, to approach the tomb of Pericles;\nalthough, indeed, such records are countless in this city, for wherever we\nstep we place our foot on some history.\n\nThen Piso continued:\u2014But, Cicero, said he, those inclinations are the\ninclinations of clever men, if they lead to the imitation of great men;\nbut if they only tend to bringing up again the traces of ancient\nrecollections, that is mere curiosity. But we all exhort you,\u2014though you\nof your own accord, as I hope, are running that way,\u2014to imitate those men\nwhom you wish that you had known. Although, I replied, our friend Piso\nhere does, as you see, what you recommended, still your exhortation is\npleasing to me. Then said he, in a most friendly manner, as was his\nwont,\u2014Let all of us, then, contribute every assistance to his youth,\nespecially urging him to devote some of his studies to philosophy, either\nfor the sake of imitating you whom he loves, or else of being able to do\nwhat he is desirous to do with more elegance. But do you, O Lucius, said\nhe, require to be exhorted by us, or are you inclined that way of your own\naccord? You appear, indeed, to me to be very assiduous in your attendance\non Antiochus, whose pupil you are. Then replied he, timidly,\u2014or, I ought\nrather to say, modestly,\u2014I am indeed; but did you not just now hear\nCharmadas\u2019s name mentioned? I am attracted in that direction, but\nAntiochus drags me back again; nor is there any one else whose lectures it\nwould be possible to attend.\n\nIII. Piso replied\u2014Although, while our friend here (meaning me) is present,\nthis matter will perhaps not be quite so easy; yet I will endeavour to\ncall you back from this New Academy to that ancient one, in which (as you\nused to hear Antiochus say) those men are not alone reckoned who are\ncalled Academics,\u2014Speusippus, Xenocrates, Polemo, Crantor, and the rest;\nbut the old Peripatetics also, the chief of whom was Aristotle, whom, next\nto Plato, I think I may fairly call the prince of philosophers. Turn\nyourself, therefore, I entreat you, to those men; for from their writings\nand systems all liberal learning, all history, all elegance of language,\nmay be derived; and also, so great is the variety of arts of which they\nwere masters, that no one can come properly armed for any business of\nimportance and credit without being tolerably versed in their writings. It\nis owing to them that men have turned out orators, generals, and\nstatesmen; and, to descend to less important matters, it is from this\nAcademy, as from a regular magazine of all the arts, that mathematicians,\npoets, musicians, aye, and physicians too, have proceeded.\n\nI replied\u2014You know well, O Piso, that my opinion is the same: but still\nthe mention of it by you was very seasonable; for my relation Cicero is\nanxious to hear what was the doctrine of that Old Academy which you have\nbeen speaking of, and of the Peripatetics, about the chief good; and we\nthink that you can very easily explain it to us, because you entertained\nStaseas the Neapolitan in your house for many years, and because, too, we\nare aware that you have been many months at Athens, investigating these\nvery things, as a pupil of Antiochus. And he said, with a laugh, Come,\ncome,\u2014for you have very cleverly drawn me in to begin the discussion,\u2014let\nus explain it to the young man if we can; for this solitude gives us the\nopportunity: but, even if a god had told me so, I would never have\nbelieved that I should be disputing in the Academy, like a philosopher.\nHowever, I hope I shall not annoy the rest of you while complying with his\nrequest. Annoy me, said I, who asked you? Quintus and Pomponius also said\nthat they entertained the same wish; so he began. And I beg of you,\nBrutus, to consider whether what he said appears to you to sufficiently\nembrace the doctrines of Antiochus, which I know you, who were a constant\nattendant on the lectures of his brother Aristus, approve of highly. Thus\nhe spoke:\u2014\n\nIV. What great elegance there is in the Peripatetic system I have\nexplained a little time ago, as briefly as I could. But the form of the\nsystem, as is the case with most of the other schools, is threefold: one\ndivision being that of nature; the second, that of arguing; the third,\nthat of living. Nature has been investigated by them so thoroughly that\nthere is no part of heaven, or earth, or sea (to speak like a poet), which\nthey have passed over. Moreover, after having treated of the origin of\nthings, and of the universal world, so as to prove many points not only by\nprobable arguments, but even by the inscrutable demonstrations of\nmathematicians, they brought from the subjects which they had investigated\nabundant materials to assist in attaining to the knowledge of secret\nthings. Aristotle investigated the birth, and way of living, and figure of\nevery animal; Theophrastus examined the causes, and principles, and\nnatures of plants, and of almost everything which is produced out of the\nearth; by which knowledge the investigation of the most secret things is\nrendered easier. Also, they have given rules for arguing, not only\nlogically, but oratorically; and a system of speaking in both these\nmanners, on every subject, has been laid down by Aristotle, their chief;\nso that he did not always argue against everything, as Arcesilas did; and\nyet he furnished one on every subject with arguments to be used on both\nsides of it.\n\nBut, as the third division was occupied about the rules of living well, it\nwas also brought back by those same people, not only to the system of\nprivate life, but also to the direction of affairs of state. For from\nAristotle we have acquired a knowledge of the manners, and customs, and\ninstitutions of almost every state, not of Greece only, but also of the\nBarbarians; and from Theophrastus we have learnt even their laws: and each\nof them taught what sort of man a leader in a state ought to be, and also\nwrote at great length to explain what was the best constitution for a\nstate. But Theophrastus also detailed very copiously what were the natural\ninclinations of affairs, and what the influences of opportunities which\nrequired regulating as occasion might demand. And as for living, a quiet\nmethod of life appeared to them to be the best, passed in the\ncontemplation and knowledge of things; which, inasmuch as it had the\ngreatest resemblance to the life of the gods, appeared to them to be most\nworthy of a wise man; and on these subjects they held very lofty and\ndignified language.\n\nV. But respecting the chief good, because there are two kinds of\nbooks,\u2014one addressed to the people, which they used to call \u1f10\u03be\u03c9\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd,\nthe other written in a more polished style, which they left behind in\ncommentaries,\u2014they appear not always to say the same thing; and yet in\ntheir ultimate conclusion there is no variety in the language of the men\nwhom I have named, nor is there any disagreement between them. But, as a\nhappy life is the object of search, and as that is the only thing which\nphilosophy ought to pursue and regard, there never appears to be the least\ndifference or doubt in their writings, as to whether happiness is wholly\nin the power of the wise man, or whether it can be undermined or taken\nfrom him by adversity. And this point is the especial subject of the book\nof Theophrastus, on a Happy Life; in which a great deal is attributed to\nfortune: and if that theory is correct, then wisdom cannot make life\nhappy. Now, this seems to me rather too tender (if I may say so) and\ndelicate a doctrine, more so than the power and importance of virtue can\nsanction. Wherefore let us rather hold with Aristotle, and his son\nNicomachus,\u2014whose admirably written books on Morals are said, indeed, to\nbe Aristotle\u2019s; but I do not see why the son may not have been like his\nfather; but, in most cases, let us apply to Theophrastus, as long as we\nattribute a little more firmness and strength to virtue than he did.\n\nLet us, then, be content with these guides; for their successors are wiser\nmen, indeed, in my opinion, than the philosophers of other schools: but\nstill they degenerate so from these great men, that they seem to me rather\nto have arisen from themselves than from them. In the first place, Strato,\nthe pupil of Theophrastus, called himself a natural philosopher: and\nthough, in truth, he is an eminent man in that line, still most of what he\nsaid was novel; and he said very little about morals. His pupil Lyco was\nrich in eloquence, but very meagre in matter. Then his pupil Aristo was a\nneat and elegant writer, but still he had not that dignity which we look\nfor in a great philosopher: he wrote a great deal, certainly, and in a\npolished style; but, somehow or other, his writings do not carry any\nweight. I pass over several, and among them that learned man and pleasant\nwriter, Hieronymus; and I do not know why I should call him a Peripatetic,\nfor he defined the chief good to be freedom from pain: and he who\ndisagrees with me about the chief good, disagrees with me about the whole\nprinciple of philosophy. Critolaus wished to copy the ancients; and,\nindeed, he comes nearest to them in dignity, and his eloquence is\npreeminent: still he adheres to the ancient doctrine. Diodorus, his pupil,\nadds to honourableness freedom from pain: he, too, clings to a theory of\nhis own; and, as he disagrees from them about the chief good, he is hardly\nentitled to be called a Peripatetic. But my friend Antiochus seems to me\nto pursue the opinions of the ancients with the greatest care; and he\nshows that they coincided with the doctrines of Aristotle and Polemo.\n\nVI. My young friend Lucius, therefore, acts prudently when he wishes\nchiefly to be instructed about the chief good; for when this point is once\nsettled in philosophy, everything is settled. For in other matters, if\nanything is passed over, or if we are ignorant of anything, the\ninconvenience thus produced is no greater than the importance the matter\nis of in which the omission has taken place; but if one is ignorant of\nwhat is the chief good, one must necessarily be ignorant of the true\nprinciples of life; and from this ignorance such great errors ensue that\nthey cannot tell to what port to betake themselves. But when one has\nacquired a knowledge of the chief ends,\u2014when one knows what is the chief\ngood and the chief evil,\u2014then a proper path of life, and a proper\nregulation of all the duties of life, is found out.\n\nThere is, therefore, an object to which everything may be referred; from\nwhich a system of living happily, which is what every one desires, may be\ndiscovered and adopted. But since there is a great division of opinion as\nto what that consists in, we had better employ the division of Carneades,\nwhich our friend Antiochus prefers, and usually adopts. He therefore saw\nnot only how many different opinions of philosophers on the subject of the\nchief good there were, but how many there could be. Accordingly, he\nasserted that there was no art which proceeded from itself; for, in truth,\nthat which is comprehended by an art is always exterior to the art. There\nis no need of prolonging this argument by adducing instances; for it is\nevident that no art is conversant about itself, but that the art itself is\none thing, and the object which is proposed to be attained by the art\nanother. Since, therefore, prudence is the art of living, just as medicine\nis of health, or steering of navigation, it follows unavoidably that that\nalso must have been established by, and must proceed from, something else.\nBut it is agreed among almost all people, that that object with which\nprudence is conversant, and which it wishes to arrive at, ought to be\nfitted and suited to nature, and to be of such a character as by itself to\ninvite and attract that desire of the mind which the Greeks call \u1f41\u03c1\u03bc\u03ae. But\nas to what it is which causes this excitement, and which is so greatly\ndesired by nature from its first existence, it is not agreed; and, indeed,\nthere is a great dissension on the subject among philosophers whenever the\nchief good is the subject of investigation: for the source of this whole\nquestion which is agitated as to the chief good and evil, when men inquire\nwhat is the extreme and highest point of either, must be traced back, and\nin that will be found the primitive inducements of nature; and when it is\nfound, then the whole discussion about the chief good and evil proceeds\nfrom it as from a spring.\n\nVII. Some people consider the first desire to be a desire of pleasure, and\nthe first thing which men seek to ward off to be pain: others think that\nthe first thing wished for is freedom from pain, and the first thing\nshunned, pain; and from these men others proceed, who call the first goods\nnatural ones; among which they reckon the safety and integrity of all\none\u2019s parts, good health, the senses unimpaired, freedom from pain,\nstrength, beauty, and other things of the same sort, the images of which\nare the first things in the mind, like the sparks and seeds of the\nvirtues. And of these three, as there is some one thing by which nature is\noriginally moved to feel desire, or to repel something, and as it is\nimpossible that there should be anything except these three things, it\nfollows unavoidably that every duty, whether of avoiding or of pursuing\nanything, is referred to some one of these things; so that that prudence,\nwhich we have called the art of life, is always conversant about some one\nof these three things from which it derives the beginning of the whole\nlife: and from that which it has pronounced to be the original cause by\nwhich nature is excited, the principle of what is right and honourable\narises; which can agree with some one of these three divisions; so that it\nis honourable to do everything for the sake of pleasure, even if you do\nnot obtain it; or else for the sake of avoiding pain, though you may not\nbe able to compass that; or else of getting some one of those things which\nare according to nature. And thus it comes about that there is as much\ndifference between the chief good and the chief evil as there is in their\nnatural principles. Others again, starting from the same beginning, refer\neverything either to pleasure or to freedom from pain, or else to the\nattainment of those primary goods which are according to nature.\n\nNow then that we have detailed six opinions about the chief good, these\nare the chief advocates of the three last-mentioned opinions,\u2014Aristippus,\nthe advocate of pleasure; Hieronymus, of freedom from pain; and Carneades,\nof the enjoyment of those things which we have called the principal things\nin accordance with nature (though he, indeed, was not the author of this\ntheory, but only its advocate, for the sake of maintaining a debate). Now,\nthe three former were such as might possibly be true, though only one of\nthem was defended, and that was vehemently maintained. For no one says,\nthat to do everything for the sake of pleasure, or that, even though we\nobtain nothing, still the very design of acting so is of itself desirable,\nand honourable, and the only good; no one ever even placed the avoidance\nof pain (not even if it could be avoided) among things intrinsically\ndesirable; but to do everything with a view to obtain the things which are\naccording to nature, even though we do not succeed in obtaining them, the\nStoics do affirm to be honourable, and the only thing to be desired for\nits own sake, and the only good.\n\nVIII. These, then, are six plain opinions about the chief good and the\nchief evil,\u2014two having no advocate, but four being defended. But of united\nand twofold explanations of the chief good there were in all three; nor\ncould there be more if you examine the nature of things thoroughly. For\neither pleasure can be added to honourableness, as Callipho and Dinomachus\nthought; or freedom from pain, as Diodorus asserted; or the first gifts of\nnature, as the ancients said, whom we call at the same time Academics and\nPeripatetics. But, since everything cannot be said at once, at present\nthese things ought to be known, that pleasure ought to be excluded; since,\nas it will presently appear, we have been born for higher purposes; and\nnearly the same may be said of freedom from pain as of pleasure. Since\nthen we have discussed pleasure with Torquatus, and honourableness (in\nwhich alone every good was to consist) with Cato; in the first place, the\narguments which were urged against pleasure are nearly equally applicable\nto freedom from pain. Nor, indeed, need we seek for any others to reply to\nthat opinion of Carneades; for in whatever manner the chief good is\nexplained, so as to be unconnected with honourableness, in that system\nduty, and virtue, and friendship, can have no place. But the union of\neither pleasure or freedom from pain with honourableness, makes that very\nhonourableness which it wishes to embrace dishonourable; for to refer what\nyou do to those things, one of which asserts the man who is free from evil\nto be in the enjoyment of the chief good, while the other is conversant\nwith the most trifling part of our nature, is rather the conduct of a man\nwho would obscure the whole brilliancy of honourableness\u2014I might almost\nsay, who would pollute it.\n\nThe Stoics remain, who after they had borrowed everything from the\nPeripatetics and Academics, pursued the same objects under different\nnames. It is better to reply to them all separately. But let us stick to\nour present subject; we can deal with those men at a more convenient\nseason. But the \u201csecurity\u201d of Democritus, which is as it were a sort of\ntranquillity of the mind which they all \u03b5\u1f50\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03af\u03b1, deserved to be separated\nfrom this discussion, because that tranquillity of the mind is of itself a\nhappy life. What we are inquiring, however, is not what it is, but whence\nit is derived. The opinions of Pyrrho, Aristo, and Herillus, have long ago\nbeen exploded and discarded, as what can never be applicable to this\ncircle of discussion to which we limit ourselves, and which had no need to\nhave been ever mentioned; for as the whole of this inquiry is about the\nchief, and what I may call the highest good and evil, it ought to start\nfrom that point which we call suitable and adapted to nature, and which is\nsought of itself for itself. Now this is wholly put out of the question by\nthose who deny that in those things in which there is nothing either\nhonourable or dishonourable, there is any reason why one thing should be\npreferred to another, and who think that there is actually no difference\nwhatever between those things. And Herillus, if he thought that nothing\nwas good except knowledge, put an end to all reason for taking counsel,\nand to all inquiry about duty. Thus, after we have got rid of the opinions\nof the rest, as there can be no other, this doctrine of the ancients must\ninevitably prevail.\n\nIX. Therefore, after the fashion of the ancients, which the Stoics also\nadopt, let us make this beginning:\u2014Every animal loves itself, and as soon\nas it is born labours to preserve itself, because this is the first desire\ngiven to it by nature, to regulate its whole life, to preserve itself, and\nto be so disposed as it best may in accordance with nature. At the\nbeginning it has such a confused and uncertain kind of organization that\nit can only just take care of itself, whatever it is; but it does not\nunderstand either what it is, or what its powers are, or what its nature\nis. But when it has advanced a little, and begins to perceive how far\nanything touches it, or has reference to it, then it begins gradually to\nimprove, and to comprehend itself, and to understand for what cause it has\nthat appetite of the mind which I have spoken of; and begins also to\ndesire those things which it feels to be suited to its nature, and to keep\noff the contrary. Therefore, in the case of every animal, what it wishes\nis placed in that thing which is adapted to its nature. And so the chief\ngood is to live according to nature, with the best disposition and the\nmost suitable to nature that can be engendered.\n\nBut since every animal has his own peculiar nature, it is plain that the\nobject of each must be to have his nature satisfied. For there is no\nhindrance to there being some things in common to all other animals, and\nsome common both to men and beasts, since the nature of all is common. But\nthat highest and chief good and evil which we are in search of, is\ndistributed and divided among the different kinds of animals, each having\nits own peculiar good and evil, adapted to that end which the nature of\neach class of animal requires. Wherefore, when we say that the chief good\nto all animals is to live according to nature, this must be understood as\nif we said that they had all the same chief good. But as it may truly be\nsaid to be common to all arts to be conversant about some science, and\nthat there is a separate science belonging to each art, so we may say that\nit is common to all animals to live according to nature, but that there\nare different natures; so that the horse has by nature one chief good, the\nox another, man another; and yet in all there is one common end; and that\nis the case too, not only in animals, but also in all those things which\nnature nourishes, causes to grow, and protects; in which we see that those\nthings which are produced out of the earth, somehow or other by their own\nenergy create many things for themselves which have influence on their\nlife and growth, and so each in their own kind they arrive at the chief\ngood. So that we may now embrace all such in one comprehensive statement;\nand I need not hesitate to say, that every nature is its own preserver;\nand has for its object, as its end and chief good, to protect itself in\nthe best possible condition that its kind admits of; so that it follows\ninevitably that all things which flourish by nature have a similar but\nstill not the same end. And from this it should be understood, that the\nchief and highest good to man is to live according to nature which we may\ninterpret thus,\u2014to live according to that nature of a man which is made\nperfect on all sides, and is in need of nothing. These things then we must\nexplain; and if our explanation is rather minute, you will excuse it; for\nwe are bound to consider the youth of our hearer, and the fact that he is\nnow perhaps listening to such a discourse for the first time. Certainly,\nsaid I; although what you have said hitherto might be very properly\naddressed to hearers of any age.\n\nX. Since then, said he, we have explained the limit of those things which\nare to be desired, we must next show why the facts are as I have stated\nthem. Wherefore, let us set out from the position which I first laid down,\nwhich is also in reality the first, so that we may understand that every\nanimal loves itself. And though there is no doubt of this, (for it is a\nprinciple fixed deep in nature itself, and is comprehended by the sense of\nevery one, in such a degree that if any one wished to argue against it, he\nwould not be listened to,) yet, that I may not pass over anything, I think\nit as well to adduce some reasons why this is the case. Although, how can\nany one either understand or fancy that there is any animal which hates\nitself? It would be a contradiction of facts; for when that appetite of\nthe mind has begun designedly to attract anything to itself which is an\nhindrance to it, because it is an enemy to itself,\u2014when it does that for\nits own sake, it will both hate itself and love itself, which is\nimpossible. It is unavoidable that, if any one is an enemy to himself, he\nmust think those things bad which are good, and, on the other hand, those\nthings good which are bad; that he must avoid those things which he ought\nto seek, and seek what he ought to avoid; all which habits are indubitably\nthe overturning of life. For even if some people are found who seek for\nhalters or other modes of destruction, or, like the man in Terence, who\ndetermined \u201cfor such a length of time to do less injury to his son,\u201d (as\nhe says himself,) \u201cuntil he becomes miserable,\u201d it does not follow that\nthey are to be thought enemies to themselves. But some are influenced by\npain, others by desire; many again are carried away by passion, and while\nthey knowingly run into evils, still fancy that they are consulting their\nown interests most excellently; and, therefore, they unhesitatingly say\u2014\n\n\n    That is my way; do you whate\u2019er you must\u2014\n\n\nlike men who have declared war against themselves, who like to be tortured\nall day and tormented all night, and who yet do not accuse themselves of\nhaving omitted to consult their own interests; for this is a complaint\nmade by those men who are dear to and who love themselves.\n\nWherefore, whenever a man is said to be but little obliged to himself, to\nbe a foe and enemy to himself, and in short to flee from life, it should\nbe understood that there is some cause of that kind lying beneath the\nsurface; so that it may be understood from that very instance that every\none is dear to himself. Nor is it sufficient that there has never been any\none who hated himself; but we must understand also that there is no one\nwho thinks that it is a matter of indifference to him in what condition he\nis; for all desire of the mind will be put an end to if, as in those\nthings between which there is no difference we are not more inclined to\neither side, so also, in the case of our own selves, we think it makes no\ndifference to us in what way we are affected.\n\nXI. And this also would be a very absurd thing if any one were to say it,\nnamely, that a man is loved by himself in such a manner that that vehement\nlove is referred to some other thing, and not to that very man who loves\nhimself. Now when this is said in the case of friendship, of duty, or of\nvirtue, however it is said, it is still intelligible what is meant by it;\nbut in regard to our own selves, it cannot even be understood that we\nshould love ourselves for the sake of something else, or in a word, for\nthe sake of pleasure. For it is for our sakes that we love pleasure, and\nnot for the sake of pleasure that we love ourselves; although what can be\nmore evident than that every one is not only dear, but excessively dear to\nhimself? For who is there, or at all events how few are there, who when\ndeath approaches, does not find\n\n\n    His heart\u2019s blood chill\u2019d with sudden fear,\n    His cheek grow pale?\n\n\nand if it is a vice to dread the dissolution of nature so excessively,\n(and the same thing on the same principle may be asserted of our aversion\nto pain,) still the fact that nearly every one is affected in this manner,\nis a sufficient proof that nature abhors destruction. And though some men\nshow this dread or aversion to such a degree that they are deservedly\nblamed for it, still this may show us that such feelings would not be so\nexcessive in some people, if a moderate degree of them were not implanted\nin mankind by nature.\n\nNor, indeed, do I mean that fear of death which is shown by those men who,\nbecause they think that they are being deprived of the goods of life, or\nbecause they fear some terrible events after death, or who, because they\nare afraid of dying in pain, therefore shun death; for in the case of\nchildren, who can have no such ideas or apprehensions, they often show\nfear if, when playing with them, we threaten to throw them down from any\nplace; and even beasts, as Pacuvius says,\n\n\n    Who have no cunning, or prophetic craft\n    To ward off danger ere it come,\n\n\nshudder when the fear of death comes before them. And, indeed, who\nentertains a different opinion of the wise man himself? who, even when he\nhas decided that he must die, still is affected by the departure from his\nfamily, and by the fact that he must leave the light of day. And above all\nis the power of nature visible in the human race, since many endure\nbeggary to preserve life, and men worn out with old age are tortured with\nthe idea of the approach of death, and endure such things as we see\nPhiloctetes in the play suffer, who, while he was kept in torture by\nintolerable pains, nevertheless preserved his life by the game which he\ncould kill with his arrows.\n\n\n    He, though slow, o\u2019ertook the swift,\n    He stood and slew the flying\u2014\n\n\nas Attius says, and made himself coverings for his body by plaiting the\nfeathers together. I am speaking of mankind, and, indeed, generally of all\nanimals, though plants and trees have nearly the same nature, whether, as\nis the opinion of some most learned men, because some predominant and\ndivine cause has implanted this power in them, or whether it is\naccidental. We see those things which the earth produces preserved in\nvigour by their bark and roots, which happens to animals by the\narrangement of their senses, and a certain compact conformation of limb.\nAnd with reference to this subject, although I agree with those men who\nthink that all these things are regulated by nature, and that if nature\nneglected to regulate them, the animals themselves could not exist, still\nI grant that those who differ on this subject may think what they please,\nand may either understand that when I say the nature of man I mean man\n(for it makes no difference); for a man will be able to depart from\nhimself sooner than he can lose the desire of those things which are\nadvantageous to him. Rightly, therefore, have the most learned\nphilosophers sought the principle of the chief good in nature, and thought\nthat that appetite for things adapted to nature is implanted in all men,\nfor they are kept together by that recommendation of nature in obedience\nto which they love themselves.\n\nXII. The next thing which we must examine is, what is the nature of man,\nsince it is sufficiently evident that every one is dear to himself by\nnature; for that is the thing which we are really inquiring about. But it\nis evident that man consists of mind and body, and that the first rank\nbelongs to the mind, and the second to the body. In the next place we see,\nalso, that his body is so formed as to excel that of other animals, and\nthat his mind is so constituted as to be furnished with senses, and to\nhave excellence of intellect which the whole nature of man obeys, in which\nthere is a certain admirable force of reason, and knowledge, and science,\nand all kinds of virtues; for the things which are parts of the body have\nno authority to be compared with that possessed by the parts of the mind;\nand they are more easily known. Therefore, let us begin with them.\n\nIt is evident, now, how suitable to nature are the parts of our body, and\nthe whole general figure, form, and stature of it; nor is there any doubt\nwhat kind of face, eyes, ears and other features are peculiar to man. But\ncertainly it is necessary for them to be in good health and vigorous, and\nto have all their natural movements and uses; so that no part of them\nshall be absent, or disordered, or enfeebled; for nature requires\nsoundness. For there is a certain action of the body which has all its\nmotions and its general condition in a state of harmony with nature, in\nwhich if anything goes wrong through any distortion or depravity, either\nby any irregular motion or disordered condition,\u2014as if, for instance, a\nperson were to walk on his hands, or to walk not forwards but\nbackwards,\u2014then he would evidently appear to be flying from himself, and\nto be putting off his manhood, and to hate his own nature. On which\naccount, also, some ways of sitting down, and some contorted and abrupt\nmovements, such as wanton or effeminate men at times indulge in, are\ncontrary to nature. So that even if that should happen through any fault\nof the mind, still the nature of the man would seem to be changed in his\nbody. Therefore, on the contrary, moderate and equal conditions, and\naffections, and habits of the body, seem to be suitable to nature. But now\nthe mind must not only exist, but must exist in a peculiar manner, so as\nto have all its parts sound, and to have no virtue wanting: but each sense\nhas its own peculiar virtue, so that nothing may hinder each sense from\nperforming its office in the quick and ready perception of those things\nwhich come under the senses.\n\nXIII. But there are many virtues of the mind, and of that part of the mind\nwhich is the chief, and which is called the intellect; but these virtues\nare divided into two principal classes: one, consisting of those which are\nimplanted by nature, and are called involuntary; the other, of those which\ndepend on the will, and are more often spoken of by their proper name of\nvirtues; whose great excellence is attributed to the mind as a subject of\npraise. Now in the former class are docility, memory, and others, nearly\nall of which are called by the one name of _ingenium_, and those who\npossess them are called _ingeniosi_. The other class consists of those\nwhich are great and real virtues; which we call voluntary, such as\nprudence, temperance, fortitude, justice, and others of the same kind. And\nthis was what might be said briefly of both mind and body; and this\nstatement supplies a sort of sketch of what the nature of man\nrequires:\u2014and from this it is evident, since we are beloved by ourselves,\nand since we wish everything both in our minds and bodies to be perfect,\nthat those qualities are dear to us for their own sakes, and that they are\nof the greatest influence towards our living well. For he to whom\nself-preservation is proposed as an object, must necessarily feel an\naffection for all the separate parts of himself; and a greater affection\nin proportion as they are more perfect and more praiseworthy in their\nseparate kinds. For that kind of life is desired which is full of the\nvirtues of the mind and body; and in that the chief good must unavoidably\nbe placed, since it ought to be of such a character as to be the highest\nof all desirable things. And when we have ascertained that, there ought to\nbe no doubt entertained, that as men are dear to themselves for their own\nsake, and of their own accord, so, also, the parts of the body and mind,\nand of those things which are in the motion and condition of each, are\ncultivated with a deserved regard, and are sought for their own sakes. And\nwhen this principle has been laid down, it is easy to conjecture that\nthose parts of us are most desirable which have the most dignity; so that\nthe virtue of each most excellent part which is sought for its own sake,\nis also deserving of being principally sought after. And the consequence\nwill be, that the virtue of the mind is preferred to the virtue of the\nbody, and that the voluntary virtues of the mind are superior to the\ninvoluntary; for it is the voluntary ones which are properly called\nvirtues, and which are much superior to the others, as being the offspring\nof reason; than which there is nothing more divine in man. In truth, the\nchief good of all those qualities which nature creates and maintains, and\nwhich are either unconnected or nearly so with the body, is placed in the\nmind; so that it appears to have been a tolerably acute observation which\nwas made respecting the sow, that that animal had a soul given it instead\nof salt to keep it from getting rotten.\n\nXIV. But there are some beasts in which there is something resembling\nvirtue, such as lions, dogs, and horses; in which we see movements not of\nthe body only, as we do in pigs, but to a certain extent we may discern\nsome movements of mind. But in man the whole dominant power lies in the\nmind; and the dominant power of the mind is reason: and from this proceeds\nvirtue, which is defined as the perfection of reason: which they think is\nto be gradually developed day by day. Those things, too, which the earth\nproduces have a sort of gradual growth towards perfection, not very unlike\nwhat we see in animals. Therefore we say that a vine lives, and dies; we\nspeak of a tree as young, or old; being in its prime, or growing old. And\nit is therefore not inconsistent to speak, as in the case of animals, of\nsome things in plants, too, being conformable to nature, and some not: and\nto say that there is a certain cultivation of them, nourishing, and\ncausing them to grow, which is the science and art of the farmer, which\nprunes them, cuts them in, raises them, trains them, props them, so that\nthey may be able to extend themselves in the direction which nature points\nout; in such a manner that the vines themselves, if they could speak,\nwould confess that they ought to be managed and protected in the way they\nare. And now indeed that which protects it (that I may continue to speak\nchiefly of the vine) is external to the vine: for it has but very little\npower in itself to keep itself in the best possible condition, unless\ncultivation is applied to it. But if sense were added to the vine, so that\nit could feel desire and be moved by itself, what do you think it would\ndo? Would it do those things which were formerly done to it by the\nvine-dresser, and of itself attend to itself? Do you not see that it would\nalso have the additional care of preserving its senses, and its desire for\nall those things, and its limbs, if any were added to it? And so too, to\nall that it had before, it will unite those things which have been added\nto it since: nor will it have the same object that its dresser had, but it\nwill desire to live according to that nature which has been subsequently\nadded to it: and so its chief good will resemble that which it had before,\nbut will not be identical with it; for it will be no longer seeking the\ngood of a plant, but that of an animal. And suppose that not only the\nsenses are given it, but also the mind of a man, does it not follow\ninevitably that those former things will remain and require to be\nprotected, and that among them these additions will be far more dear to it\nthan its original qualities? and that each portion of the mind which is\nbest is also the dearest? and that its chief good must now consist in\nsatisfying its nature, since intellect and reason are by far the most\nexcellent parts of it? And so the chief of all the things which it has to\ndesire, and that which is derived from the original recommendation of\nnature, ascends by several steps, so as at last to reach the summit;\nbecause it is made up of the integrity of the body, and the perfect reason\nof the intellect.\n\nXV. As, therefore, the form of nature is such as I have described it, if,\nas I said at the beginning, each individual as soon as he is born could\nknow himself, and form a correct estimate of what is the power both of his\nentire nature and of its separate parts, he would see immediately what\nthis was which we are in search of, namely, the highest and best of all\nthe things which we desire: nor would it be possible for him to make a\nmistake in anything. But now nature is from the very beginning concealed\nin a wonderful manner, nor can it be perceived nor comprehended. But as\nour age advances, we gradually, or I should rather say slowly, come to a\nkind of knowledge of ourselves. Therefore, that original recommendation\nwhich is given to us by our nature, is obscure and uncertain; and that\nfirst appetite of the mind only goes the length of wishing to secure our\nown safety and soundness. But when we begin to look around us, and to feel\nwhat we are, and in what we differ from all the other animals, then we\nbegin to pursue the objects for which we were born. And we see a similar\nthing take place in beasts, who at first do not move from the place in\nwhich they were born; but afterwards all move, influenced by some desire\nof their own. And so we see snakes crawl, ducks swim, blackbirds fly, oxen\nuse their horns, scorpions their stings; and we see nature a guide to each\nanimal in its path of life.\n\nAnd the case is similar with the human race. For infants at their first\nbirth lie as if they were utterly devoid of mind; but when a little\nstrength has been added to them, they use both their mind and their\nsenses, and endeavour to raise themselves up and to use their hands; and\nthey recognise those by whom they are being brought up; and afterwards\nthey are amused with those of their own age, and gladly associate with\nthem, and give themselves up to play, and are attracted by hearing\nstories, and are fond of pleasing others with their own superfluities; and\ntake curious notice of what is done at home, and begin to make remarks,\nand to learn; and do not like to be ignorant of the names of those whom\nthey see; and in their sports and contests with their fellows, they are\ndelighted if they win, and if they are beaten they are dejected and lose\ntheir spirits. And we must not think that any of these things happen\nwithout reason; for the power of man is produced in such a way by nature,\nthat it seems made for a perception of all excellence: and on that account\nchildren, even without being taught, are influenced by likeness of those\nvirtues of which they have the seeds in themselves; for they are the\noriginal elements of nature: and when they have acquired growth, then the\nwhole work of nature is accomplished. For as we have been born and created\nso as to contain in ourselves the principles of doing something, and of\nloving somebody, and of liberality, and of gratitude; and so as to have\nminds adapted for knowledge, prudence, and fortitude, and averse to their\nopposites; it is not without cause that we see in children those sparks,\nas it were, of virtue which I have mentioned, by which the reason of a\nphilosopher ought to be kindled to follow that guide as if it were a god,\nand so to arrive at the knowledge of the object of nature.\n\nFor, as I have often said already, the power of nature is discerned\nthrough a cloud while we are of a weak age and feeble intellect; but when\nour mind has made progress and acquired strength, then it recognises the\npower of nature, but still in such a way that it can make more progress\nstill, and that it must derive the beginning of that progress from itself.\n\nXVI. We must therefore enter into the nature of things, and see thoroughly\nwhat it demands; for otherwise we cannot arrive at the knowledge of\nourselves. And because this precept was too important an one to be\ndiscerned by a man, it has on that account been attributed to God. The\nPythian Apollo, then, enjoins us to know ourselves: but this knowledge is\nto know the power of our mind and body, and to follow that course of life\nwhich enjoys the circumstances in which it is placed. And since that\ndesire of the mind to have all the things which I have mentioned in the\nmost perfect manner in which nature could provide them, existed from the\nbeginning, we must admit, when we have obtained what we desired, that\nnature consists in that as its extreme point, and that that is the chief\ngood: which certainly must in every case be sought for spontaneously for\nits own sake, since it has already been proved, that even all its separate\nparts are to be desired for their own sake. But if, in enumerating the\nadvantages of the body, any one should think that we have passed over\npleasure, that question may be postponed till another opportunity; for it\nmakes no difference with regard to the present subject of our discussion,\nwhether pleasure consists in those things which we have called the chief\nthings in accordance with nature, or whether it does not. For if, as I\nindeed think, pleasure is not the crowning good of nature, it has been\nproperly passed over: but if that crowning good does exist in pleasure, as\nsome assert, then the fact does not at all hinder this idea of ours of the\nchief good from being the right one. For, if to those things which are the\nprincipal goods of nature, pleasure is added, then there will have been\nadded just one advantage of the body; but no change will have been made in\nthe original definition of the chief good which was laid down at first.\n\nXVII. And hitherto, indeed, reason has advanced with us in such a way as\nto be wholly derived from the original recommendation of nature. But now\nwe must pursue another kind of argument, namely, that we are moved in\nthese matters of our own exceeding goodwill, not only because we love\nourselves, but because there is both in the body and in the mind a\npeculiar power belonging to each part of nature. And, (to begin with the\nbody,) do you not see that if there is anything in their limbs deformed,\nor weak, or deficient, men conceal it? and take pains, and labour\nearnestly, if they can possibly contrive it, to prevent that defect of the\nbody from being visible, or else to render it as little visible as\npossible? and that they submit to great pain for the sake of curing any\nsuch defect? in order that, even though the actual use of the limb, after\nthe application of the remedy, be likely to be not greater, but even less,\nstill the appearance of the limb may be restored to the ordinary course of\nnature. In truth, as all men fancy that they are altogether desirable by\nnature, and that too, not on any other account, but for their own sakes,\nit follows inevitably that each part of them should be desired for its own\nsake, because the whole body is sought for its own sake. What more need I\nsay? Is there nothing in the motion and condition of the body which nature\nherself decides ought to be noticed? for instance, how a person walks or\nsits, what the expression of his countenance is, what his features are; is\nthere nothing in all these things which we think worthy or unworthy of a\nfree man, as the case may be? Do we not think many men deserving of\nhatred, who appear by some motion or condition to have despised the laws\nand moderation of nature? And since these things are derived from the\nbody, what is the reason why beauty also may not fairly be said to be a\nthing to be desired for its own sake?\n\nFor if we consider distortion or disfigurement of the body a thing to be\navoided for its own sake, why should we not also, and perhaps still more,\ncultivate dignity of form for its own sake? And if we avoid what is\nunseemly, both in the condition and motion of the body, why may we not on\nthe other hand pursue beauty? And we also desire health, strength, and\nfreedom from pain, not merely because of their utility, but also for their\nown sakes. For since nature wishes to be made complete in all her parts,\nshe desires this condition of the body, which is most according to nature,\nfor its own sake: but nature is put into complete confusion if the body is\neither sick, or in pain, or destitute of strength.\n\nXVIII. Let us consider the parts of the mind, the appearance of which is\nmore noble; for in proportion as they are more sublime, they give a more\nclear indication of their nature. So vehement a love, then, of knowledge\nand science is innate in us, that no one can doubt that the nature of man\nis drawn to them without being attracted by any external gain. Do we not\nsee how boys cannot be deterred even by stripes from the consideration and\ninvestigation of such and such things? how, though they may be beaten,\nthey still pursue their inquiries, and rejoice in having acquired some\nknowledge? how they delight in telling others what they have learnt? how\nthey are attracted by processions, and games, and spectacles of that kind,\nand will endure even hunger and thirst for such an object? Can I say no\nmore? Do we not see those who are fond of liberal studies and arts regard\nneither their health nor their estate? and endure everything because they\nare charmed with the intrinsic beauty of knowledge and science? and that\nthey put the pleasures which they derive from learning in the scale\nagainst the greatest care and labour? And Homer himself appears to me to\nhave had some such feeling as this, which he has developed in what he has\nsaid about the songs of the Sirens: for they do not seem to have been\naccustomed to attract those who were sailing by with the sweetness of\ntheir voices, or with any novelty or variety in their song, but the\nprofession which they made of possessing great knowledge; so that men\nclung to their rocks from a desire of learning. For thus they invite\nUlysses, (for I have translated several passages of Homer, and this among\nthem)\u2014\n\n\n    Oh stay, O pride of Greece! Ulysses, stay!\n    Oh, cease thy course, and listen to our lay!\n    Blest is the man ordain\u2019d our voice to hear:\n    Our song instructs the soul and charms the ear.\n    Approach, thy soul shall into raptures rise;\n    Approach, and learn new wisdom from the wise.\n    We know whate\u2019er the kings of mighty name\n    Achieved at Ilium in the field of fame;\n    Whate\u2019er beneath the sun\u2019s bright journey lies\u2014\n    Oh stay, and learn new wisdom from the wise.(49)\n\n\nHomer saw that the story would not be probable if he represented so great\na man as caught by mere songs; so they promise him knowledge, which it was\nnot strange that a man desirous of wisdom should consider dearer than his\ncountry. And, indeed, to wish to know everything of every kind, is natural\nto the curious; but, to be attracted by the contemplation of greater\nobjects, to entertain a general desire for knowledge, ought to be\nconsidered a proof of a great man.\n\nXIX. What ardour for study do you not suppose there must have been in\nArchimedes, who was so occupied in drawing some mathematical figures in\nthe sand, that he was not aware that his city was taken? And what a mighty\ngenius was that of Aristoxenus which, we see, was devoted to music? What\nfondness, too, for study, must have inspired Aristophanes, to dedicate his\nwhole life to literature! What shall we say of Pythagoras? Why should I\nspeak of Plato and of Democritus, by whom, we see, that the most distant\ncountries were travelled over, on account of their desire for learning?\nAnd those who are blind to this have never loved anything very worthy of\nbeing known. And here I may say, that those who say that those studies\nwhich I have mentioned are cultivated for the sake of the pleasures of the\nmind, do not understand that they are desirable for their own sakes,\nbecause the mind is delighted by them, without the interruption of any\nideas of utility, and rejoices in the mere fact of knowledge, even though\nit may possibly produce inconvenience. But why need we seek for more\ninstances to prove what is so evident? For let us examine our own selves,\nand inquire how the motions of the stars, and the contemplation of the\nheavenly bodies, and the knowledge of all those things which are hidden\nfrom us by the obscurity of nature, affect us; and why history, which we\nare accustomed to trace back as far as possible, delights us; in the\ninvestigation of which we go over again all that has been omitted, and\nfollow up all that we have begun. Nor, indeed, am I ignorant that there is\na use, and not merely pleasure, in history. What, however, will be said,\nwith reference to our reading with pleasure imaginary fables, from which\nno utility can possibly be derived? Or to our wishing that the names of\nthose who have performed any great exploits, and their family, and their\ncountry, and many circumstances besides, which are not at all necessary,\nshould be known to us? How shall we explain the fact, that men of the\nlowest rank, who have no hope of ever performing great deeds themselves,\nartisans in short, are fond of history; and that we may see that those\npersons also are especially fond of hearing and reading of great\nachievements, who are removed from all hope of ever performing any, being\nworn out with old age?\n\nIt must, therefore, be understood, that the allurements are in the things\nthemselves which are learnt and known, and that it is they themselves\nwhich excite us to learning and to the acquisition of information. And,\nindeed, the old philosophers, in their fictitious descriptions of the\nislands of the blessed, intimate the kind of life which the wise pass,\nwhom they imagine to be free from all care, requiring no cultivation or\nappointments of life as necessary, and doing, and about to do nothing else\nbut devote their whole time to inquiring and learning and arriving at a\nknowledge of nature. But we see that that is not only the delight of a\nhappy life, but also a relief from misery. Therefore, many men while in\nthe power of enemies or tyrants, many while in prison or in exile, have\nrelieved their sorrow by the study of literature. A great man of this\ncity, Demetrius Phalereus, when he had been unjustly banished from his\ncountry, fled to Alexandria, to king Ptolemy; and, as he was very eminent\nfor his knowledge of this philosophy to which we are exhorting you, and\nhad been a pupil of Theophrastus, he wrote many admirable treatises during\nthe time of that unfortunate leisure of his, not, indeed, for any utility\nto himself, for that was out of his reach, but the cultivation of his mind\nwas to him a sort of sustenance for his human nature.\n\nI, indeed, have often heard Cn\u00e6us Aufidius, a man of pr\u00e6torian rank, of\ngreat learning, but blind, say that he was affected more by a regret for\nthe loss of light, than of any actual benefit which he derived from his\neyes. Lastly, if sleep did not bring us rest to our bodies, and a sort of\nmedicine after labour, we should think it contrary to nature, for it\ndeprives us of our senses, and takes away our power of action. Therefore,\nif either nature were in no need of rest, or if it could obtain it by any\nother means, we should be glad, since even now we are in the habit of\ndoing without sleep, in a manner almost contrary to nature, when we want\nto do or to learn something.\n\nXX. But there are tokens supplied by nature, still clearer, or, I may say,\nentirely evident and indubitable,\u2014more especially, indeed, in man, but\nalso in every animal,\u2014that the mind is always desirous to be doing\nsomething, and can in no condition endure perpetual rest. It is easy to\nsee this in the earliest age of children; for although I fear that I may\nappear prolix on this subject, still all the ancient philosophers, and\nespecially those of our own country, have recourse to the cradle for\nillustrations, because they think that in childhood they can most easily\ndetect the will of nature. We see, then, that even infants cannot rest;\nbut, when they have advanced a little, then they are delighted with even\nlaborious sports, so that they cannot be deterred from them even by\nbeating: and that desire for action grows with their growth. Therefore, we\nshould not like to have the slumber of Endymion given to us, not even if\nwe expected to enjoy the most delicious dreams; and if it were, we should\nthink it like death. Moreover, we see that even the most indolent men, men\nof a singular worthlessness, are still always in motion both in mind and\nbody; and when they are not hindered by some unavoidable circumstance,\nthat they demand a dice-box or some game of some kind, or conversation;\nand, as they have none of the liberal delights of learning, seek circles\nand assemblies. Even beasts, which we shut up for our own amusement,\nthough they are better fed than if they were free, still do not willingly\nendure being imprisoned, but pine for the free and unrestrained movements\ngiven to them by nature. Therefore, in proportion as every one is born and\nprepared for the best objects, he would be unwilling to live at all if,\nbeing excluded from action, he were able only to enjoy the most abundant\npleasures.\n\nFor men wish either to do something as individuals, or those who have\nloftier souls undertake the affairs of the state, and devote themselves to\nthe attainment of honours and commands, or else wholly addict themselves\nto the study of learning; in which path of life they are so far from\ngetting pleasures, that they even endure care, anxiety and sleeplessness,\nenjoying only that most excellent portion of man which may be accounted\ndivine in us, I mean the acuteness of the genius and intellect, and they\nneither seek for pleasure nor shun labour. Nor do they intermit either\ntheir admiration of the discoveries of the ancients, or their search after\nnew ones; and, as they are insatiable in their pursuit of such, they\nforget everything else, and admit no low or grovelling thoughts; and such\ngreat power is there in those studies, that we see even those who have\nproposed to themselves other chief goods, which they measure by advantage\nor pleasure, still devote their lives to the investigation of things, and\nto the explanation of the mysteries of nature.\n\nXXI. This, then, is evident, that we were born for action. But there are\nseveral kinds of action, so that the lesser are thrown into the shade by\nthose more important. But those of most consequence are, first of all, as\nit appears to me, and to those philosophers whose system we are at present\ndiscussing, the consideration and knowledge of the heavens, and of those\nthings which are hidden and concealed by nature, but into which reason can\nstill penetrate. And, next to them, the management of state affairs, or a\nprudent, temperate, courageous principle of government and knowledge, and\nthe other virtues, and such actions as are in harmony with those virtues,\nwhich we, embracing them all in one word, call honourable; to the\nknowledge and practice of which we are led by nature herself, who goes\nbefore us as our guide, we having been already encouraged to pursue it.\nFor the beginnings of all things are small, but, as they proceed, they\nincrease in magnitude, and that naturally: for, at their first birth,\nthere is in them a certain tenderness and softness, so that they cannot\nsee or do what is best. For the light of virtue and of a happy life, which\nare the two principal things to be desired, appears rather later; and much\nlater still in such a way that it can be plainly perceived of what\ncharacter they are.\n\nFor, admirably does Plato say, \u201cThat man is happy to whom, even in his old\nage, it is allowed to arrive at wisdom and correctness of judgment.\u201d\nWherefore, since we have said enough of the first advantages of nature, we\nwill now examine those which are more important, and which are later in\npoint of time.\n\nNature, then, has made and fashioned the body of man in such a manner,\nthat it makes some parts of him perfect at his first birth, and forms\nothers as he advances in age; and, at the same time, does not employ many\nexternal or adventitious aids. But she has filled up the perfection of the\nmind in the same way as that of the body; for she has adorned it with\nsenses suitable for the effecting of its purposes, so that it is not in\nthe least, or not much, in want of any assistance for strengthening\nitself. But that which is most excellent and important in man it has\nabandoned: although it has given him an intellect able to receive every\nkind of virtue, and has implanted in him, even without instruction, a\nslight knowledge of the most important things, and has begun, as it were,\nto teach him, and has led him on to those elements as I may call them, of\nvirtue which existed in him. But it has only begun virtue itself, nothing\nmore. Therefore it belongs to us,\u2014when I say to us, I mean to our art,\u2014to\ntrace back the consequences to those principles which we have received,\nuntil we have accomplished our object, which is indeed of a good deal more\nconsequence, and a good deal more to be desired for its own sake, than\neither the senses, or those parts of the body which we have mentioned;\nwhich the excellent perfection of the mind is so far superior to, that it\ncan scarcely be imagined how great the difference is. Therefore, all\nhonour, all admiration, all study is referred to virtue, and to those\nactions which are consistent with virtue; and all those things which are\neither in our minds in that state, or are done in that manner, are called\nby one common name\u2014honourable. And we shall presently see what knowledge\nwe have of all these things, and what is meant by the different names, and\nwhat the power and nature of each is.\n\nXXII. But at present we need only explain that these things which I call\nhonourable, (besides the fact of our living ourselves on their account,)\nare also by their own nature deserving of being sought for their own sake.\nChildren show this, in whom nature is perceived as in a mirror. What\neagerness is there in them when contending together! how vigorous are\ntheir contests! how elated are those who win! how ashamed those who are\nbeaten! how unwilling are they to be blamed! how eager to be praised! what\nlabours will they not endure to surpass their fellows! what a recollection\nhave they of those who are kind to them! how anxious are they to prove\ntheir gratitude! and these qualities are most visible in the best\ndispositions; in which all these honourable qualities which we appreciate\nare filled up as it were by nature. But in children they are only\nsketched.\n\nAgain, in more mature age, who is so unlike a man as not to be moved to a\ndislike of baseness and approval of what is honourable? Who is there who\ndoes not loathe a libidinous and licentious youth? who, on the contrary,\ndoes not love modesty and constancy in that age, even though his own\ninterest is not at all concerned? Who does not detest Pullus Numitorius,\nof Fregell\u00e6, the traitor, although he was of use to our own republic? who\ndoes not praise Codrus, the saviour of his city, and the daughters of\nErectheus? Who does not detest the name of Tubulus? and love the dead\nAristides? Do we forget how much we are affected at hearing or reading\nwhen we are brought to the knowledge of anything which has been done in a\npious, or friendly, or magnanimous spirit? Why should I speak of men like\nourselves, who have been born and brought up and trained to praise and\nglory? What shouts of the common people and of the unlettered crowd are\nexcited in the theatres when this sentence is uttered\u2014\n\n\n    I am Orestes:\n\n\nand when, on the other hand, the other actor says\u2014\n\n\n    No; it is I, \u2019tis I who am Orestes.\n\n\nBut when one of them is allowed to depart by the perplexed and bewildered\nking, and they demand to die together, is this scene ever acted without\nbeing accompanied by the most violent expressions of admiration? There is\nno one, then, who does not approve of and praise this disposition of mind;\nby which not only no advantage is sought, but good faith is preserved even\nat the expense of one\u2019s advantage. And not only are imaginary fables, but\ntrue histories also, and especially those of our country, full of such\ninstances: for we selected our most virtuous citizen to receive the Id\u00e6an\nsacred vessels; we have sent guardians to kings; our generals have devoted\ntheir lives for the safety of the republic; our consuls have warned a king\nwho was our greatest enemy, when he was actually approaching our walls, to\nbeware of poison. In our republic, a woman has been found to expiate, by a\nvoluntary death, a violation which was inflicted on her by force; and a\nman to kill his daughter to save her from being ravished. All which\ninstances, and a countless host of others, prove to the comprehension of\nevery one that those who performed those deeds were induced to do so by\nthe brilliancy of virtue, forgetful of their own advantage, and that we,\nwhen we praise those actions, are influenced by nothing but their\nhonourable character.\n\nXXIII. And having briefly explained these matters, (for I have not sought\nto adduce the number of examples which I might have done, because there\nwas no doubt on the subject,) it is shown sufficiently by these facts that\nall the virtues, and that honourableness which arises from these virtues,\nand clings to them, are worthy to be sought for their own sake. But in the\nwhole of this honourableness of which we are speaking, there is nothing so\neminent, nor so extensive in its operation, as the union of man with man,\nand a certain partnership in and communication of advantages, and the\naffection itself of the human race; which originating in that first\nfeeling according to which the offspring is loved by the parent, and the\nwhole house united by the bonds of wedlock and descent, creeps gradually\nout of doors, first of all to one\u2019s relations, then to one\u2019s connexions,\nthen to one\u2019s friends and neighbours, then to one\u2019s fellow-countrymen, and\nto the public friends and allies of one\u2019s country; then it embraces the\nwhole human race: and this disposition of mind, giving every one his due,\nand protecting with liberality and equity this union of human society\nwhich I have spoken of, is called justice, akin to which are piety,\nkindness, liberality, benevolence, courtesy, and all other qualities of\nthe same kind. But these, though peculiarly belonging to justice, are also\ncommon to the other virtues.\n\nFor as the nature of man has been created such that it has a sort of\ninnate principle of society and citizenship, which the Greeks call\n\u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd, whatever each virtue does will not be inconsistent with that\nprinciple of common union, and that human affection and society which I\nhave spoken of; and justice, as she founds herself in practice on the\nother virtues, will also require them, for justice cannot be maintained\nexcept by a courageous and wise man. Honourableness itself, then, is a\nthing of the same character as all this conspiracy and agreement of the\nvirtues which I have been speaking of; since it is either virtue itself,\nor an action virtuously performed. And a life acting in harmony and\nconsistency with this system, and with virtue, may fairly be thought\nupright and honourable, and consistent, and natural. And this union and\ncombination of virtues is nevertheless divided by philosophers on some\nprinciple of their own. For though they are so joined and connected as to\nbe all partners with one another, and to be unable to be separated from\none another, yet each has its peculiar sphere of duty; as, for instance,\nfortitude is discerned in labour and danger; temperance, in the disregard\nof pleasures; prudence, in the choice of good and evil; justice, in giving\nevery one his due. Since, then, there is in every virtue a certain care\nwhich turns its eyes abroad, as it were, and which is anxious about and\nembraces others, the conclusion is, that friends, and brothers, and\nrelations, and connexions, and fellow-countrymen, and in short everybody,\nsince we wish the society of all mankind to be one, are to be sought after\nfor their own sakes. But still, of all these things and people there is\nnothing of such a kind that it can be accounted the chief good. And from\nthis it follows, that there are found to be two kinds of goods which are\nto be sought for their own sake. One kind which exists in those things in\nwhich that chief good is brought to perfection: and they are qualities of\neither the mind or body. But these things which are external, that is to\nsay, which are in neither mind nor body, such as friends, parents,\nchildren, relations, or one\u2019s country, are indeed dear to me for their own\nsake, but still are not of the same class as the other kind. Nor, indeed,\ncould any one ever arrive at the chief good, if all those things which are\nexternal, although desirable, were contained in the chief good.\n\nXXIV. How then, you will say, can it be true that everything is referred\nto the chief good, if friendship, and relationship, and all other external\nthings are not contained in the chief good? Why, on this\nprinciple,\u2014because we protect those things which are external with those\nduties which arise from their respective kinds of virtue. For the\ncultivation of the regard of a friend or a parent, which is the discharge\nof a duty, is advantageous in the actual fact of its being such, inasmuch\nas to discharge a duty is a good action; and good actions spring from\nvirtues; and wise men attend to them, using nature as a kind of guide.\n\nBut men who are not perfect, though endued with admirable talents and\ndispositions, are often excited by glory, which has the form and likeness\nof honourableness. But if they were to be thoroughly acquainted with the\nnature of that honourableness which is wholly complete and perfect, that\none thing which is the most admirable of all things, and the most\npraiseworthy, with what joy would they be filled, when they are so greatly\ndelighted at its outline and bare idea! For who that is given up to\npleasure, and inflamed with the conflagration of desire in the enjoyment\nof those things which he has most eagerly wished for, can we imagine to be\nfull of such joy as the elder Africanus after he had conquered Hannibal,\nor the younger one after he had destroyed Carthage? What man was there who\nwas so much elated with the way in which all the people flocked to the\nTiber on that day of festivity as Lucius Paullus, when he was leading in\ntriumph king Perses as his prisoner, who was conveyed down on the same\nriver?\n\nCome now, my friend Lucius, build up in your mind the lofty excellence of\nvirtue, and you will not doubt that the men who are possessed of it, and\nwho live with a magnanimous and upright spirit, are always happy; men who\nare aware that all the movements of fortune, all the changes of affairs\nand circumstances, must be insignificant and powerless if ever they come\nto a contest with virtue. For those things which are considered by us as\ngoods of the body, do indeed make up a happy life, but still not without\nleaving it possible for a life to be happy without them. For so slight and\ninconsiderable are those additions of goods, that as stars in the orbit of\nthe sun are not seen, so neither are those qualities, but they are lost in\nthe brilliancy of virtue. And as it is said with truth that the influence\nof the advantages of the body have but little weight in making life happy,\nso on the other hand it is too strong an assertion to say that they have\nno weight at all: for those who argue thus appear to me to forget the\nprinciples of nature which they themselves have contended for.\n\nWe must, therefore, allow these things some influence: provided only that\nwe understand how much we ought to allow them. It is, however, the part of\na philosopher, who seeks not so much for what is specious as for what is\ntrue, neither utterly to disregard those things which those very boastful\nmen used to admit to be in accordance with nature; and at the same time to\nsee that the power of virtue, and the authority, if I may say so, of\nhonourableness, is so great that all those other things appear to be, I\nwill not say nothing, but so trivial as to be little better than nothing.\nThis is the language natural to a man who, on the one hand, does not\ndespise everything except virtue, and who, at the same time, honours\nvirtue with the praises which it deserves. This, in short, is a full and\nperfect explanation of the chief good; and as the others have attempted to\ndetach different portions from the main body of it, each individual among\nthem has wished to appear to have established his own theory as the\nvictorious one.\n\nXXV. The knowledge of things has been often extolled in a wonderful manner\nby Aristotle and Theophrastus for its own sake. And Herillus, being\nallured by this single fact, maintained that knowledge was the chief good,\nand that there was no other thing whatever that deserved to be sought for\nits own sake. Many things have been said by the ancients on the subject of\ndespising and contemning all human affairs. This was the one principle of\nAristo; he declared that there was nothing which ought to be avoided or\ndesired except vice and virtue. And our school has placed freedom from\npain among those things which are in accordance with nature. Hieronymus\nhas said that this is the chief good: but Callipho, and Diodorus after\nhim, one of whom was devoted to pleasure, and the other to freedom from\npain, could neither of them allow honourableness to be left out, which has\nbeen especially praised by our countrymen. Moreover, even the advocates of\npleasure seek for subterfuges, and are talking of virtue whole days\ntogether; and say that pleasure is at first only wished for; that\nafterwards it, through custom, becomes a second nature, by which men are\nexcited to do many things without at all seeking pleasure.\n\nThe Stoics remain to be mentioned. They, indeed, have borrowed not one\nidea or another from us, but have appropriated our whole system of\nphilosophy. And as other thieves alter the marks on the things which they\nhave stolen, so they, in order to be able to use our opinions as their\nown, have changed the names which are like the private marks on things.\nAnd so this school alone remains worthy of those men who study the liberal\narts, worthy of the learned, worthy of eminent men, worthy of princes,\nworthy of kings.\n\nAnd when he had said this, and then stopped to take breath for a while;\nWhat is the matter? said he; do I not seem to have said enough in your\npresence for my own defence? I replied,\u2014Indeed, O Piso, as has often been\nthe case before, you have seemed to-day to have so thorough an\nacquaintance with all these things, that, if we could always have the\nadvantage of your company, I should not think that we had much reason to\nhave recourse to the Greeks. Which, indeed, I have been the more pleased\nwith, because I recollect that Staseas, the Neapolitan, your preceptor, a\nvery illustrious Peripatetic, was at times accustomed to discuss these\npoints differently, agreeing with those men who attributed a great deal of\nweight to prosperity and adversity, and to the good or evil qualities of\nthe body. It is as you say, he replied: but these points are argued with\nmuch more accuracy and impressiveness by my friend Antiochus than they\nused to be by Staseas. Although I do not ask what I have proved to your\nsatisfaction, but what I have proved to the satisfaction of this friend of\nmine, the young Cicero, a pupil whom I wish to seduce from you.\n\nXXVI. Then Lucius said,\u2014Indeed, I quite agree with what you have said, and\nI think my brother does too. Then said Piso to me: Is it so? Do you pardon\nthe youth? or would you rather that he should learn these things which,\nwhen he has learnt thoroughly, he will know nothing at all? I give him\nleave, said I. But do not you recollect that I am allowed to express my\napproval or disapproval of what has been said by you? For who can avoid\napproving of what appears to him to be probable? Can any, we said, approve\nof anything of which he has not a thorough perception, comprehension, and\nknowledge? There is, said I, no great dispute between us, Piso; for there\nis no other reason why it appears to me that nothing can be perceived\nexcept that the faculty of perceiving is defined in such a manner by the\nStoics that they affirm that nothing can be perceived except what is so\ntrue that it cannot possibly be false. Therefore there is a dispute\nbetween us and the Stoics, but none between us and the Peripatetics.\nHowever, we may pass over this, for it would open the door to a long and\nsufficiently bitter dispute.\n\nIt seemed to me that it was too hasty an assertion of yours that all wise\nmen were always happy. I know not how such a sentence escaped you; but\nunless it is proved, I fear that the assertion which Theophrastus made\nwith respect to fortune, and pain, and bodily torture be true, with which\nhe did not consider that a happy life could possibly be joined, must be\ntrue. For it is exceedingly inconsistent that the same person should be\nhappy, and afflicted with many misfortunes; and how these things can be\nreconciled, I do not at all understand. Which assertion then, said he, is\nit that you object to? Do you deny that the power of virtue is so great\nthat she can by herself be sufficient for happiness? or, if you admit\nthat, do you think it impossible that those persons who are possessed of\nvirtue may be happy, even if they are afflicted with some evils? I,\nindeed, I replied, wish to attribute as much power as possible to virtue;\nhowever, we may discuss at another time how great her power is; at present\nthe only question is, whether she has so much power as this, if anything\nexternal to virtue is reckoned among the goods. But, said he, if you grant\nto the Stoics that virtue alone, if it be present, makes life happy, you\ngrant it also to the Peripatetics; for those things which they do not\nventure to call evils, but which they admit to be unpleasant and\ninconvenient, and to be rejected, and odious to nature we call evils, but\nslight, and, indeed, exceedingly trifling ones. Wherefore, if that man can\nbe happy who is among disagreeable things which ought to be rejected, he\nalso may be so who is among slight evils. And I say, O Piso, if there is\nany one who in causes is used to have a clear insight into what the real\nquestion is, you are the man: wherefore I beg of you to take notice; for,\nhitherto, owing perhaps to my fault, you do not perceive what it is that I\nam seeking. I am attending, said he; and I am waiting to see what answer\nyou will make to the questions that I ask.\n\nXXVII. I will answer, said I, that I am not inquiring at present what\nvirtue can effect, but what is said consistently on the subject, and why\nthe assertions are at variance with one another. How so? said he. Because,\nsaid I, when this pompous assertion is uttered by Zeno, as if he were an\noracle,\u2014\u201cVirtue requires nothing beyond herself to enable a man to live\nhappily\u201d\u2014why? said he\u2014\u201cBecause there is no other good except what is\nhonourable.\u201d I do not ask now whether that is true; I only say that what\nhe says is admirably consistent. Epicurus will say the same thing\u2014\u201cthat\nthe wise man is always happy;\u201d which, indeed, he is in the habit of\nspouting out sometimes. And he says that this wise man, when he is being\ntorn to pieces with the most exquisite pains, will say, \u201cHow pleasant it\nis! how I disregard it!\u201d I will not argue with the man as to why there is\nso much power in nature; I will only urge that he does not understand what\nhe ought to say, after he has said that pain is the greatest evil.\n\nNow I will address the same language to you. You say that all the goods\nand evils are the same that those men pronounce them to be who have never\neven seen a philosopher in a picture, as the saying is\u2014namely, health,\nstrength, stature, beauty, the soundness of all a man\u2019s nails, you call\ngood\u2014deformity, disease, weakness you call evils. These are all externals;\ndo not go on any more; but at all events you will reckon these things\namong the goods, as the goods of the body which help to compose them,\nnamely, friends, children, relations, riches, honour, power. Take notice\nthat I say nothing against this. If those are evils into which a wise man\ncan fall, then it follows that to be a wise man is not sufficient to\nsecure a happy life. Indeed, said he, it is very little towards securing a\nperfectly happy one, but enough for securing a tolerably happy one.\n\nI have noticed, said he, that you made this distinction a little while\nago, and I know that our friend Antiochus used to speak in this manner.\nBut what can be less approved of than the idea of a person being happy,\nand yet not happy enough? For when anything is enough, then whatever is\nadded to that is excess: and no one is too happy: and no one is happier\nthan a happy man. Therefore, said he, was not Quintus Metellus, who saw\nthree of his sons consuls, one of whom was also censor and celebrated a\ntriumph, and a fourth pr\u00e6tor; and who left them all in safety behind him,\nand who saw his three daughters married, having been himself consul,\ncensor and augur, and having celebrated a triumph; was he not, I say, in\nyour opinion, (supposing him to have been a wise man,) happier than\nRegulus, who being in the power of the enemy, was put to death by\nsleeplessness and hunger, though he may have been equally wise?\n\nXXVIII. Why do you ask me that? said I; ask the Stoics. What answer, then,\nsaid he, do you suppose they will make? They will say that Metellus was in\nno respect more happy than Regulus. Let us, then, said he, hear what they\nhave got to say. But, said I, we are wandering from our subject; for I am\nnot asking what is true, but what each person ought to say. I wish,\nindeed, that they would say that one man is happier than another: you\nshould see the ruin I would make of them. For, as the chief good consists\nin virtue alone, and in honourableness; and as neither virtue, as they\nsay, nor honourableness is capable of growth, and as that alone is good\nwhich makes him who enjoys it necessarily happy, as that in which alone\nhappiness is placed cannot be increased, how is it possible that one\nperson can be happier than another? Do you not see how all these things\nagree together? And, in truth, (for I must avow what I feel,) the mutual\ndependence of all these things on one another is marvellous: the last part\ncorresponds to the first, the middle to each extremity, and each extremity\nto the other. They see all that follows from, or is inconsistent with\nthem. In geometry, if you grant the premises the conclusion follows. Grant\nthat there is nothing good except what is honourable, and you must grant\nthat happiness is placed in virtue alone. Try it the other way. If you\ngrant this conclusion, you must grant the premises; but this is not the\ncase with the arguments of your school. There are three kinds of goods.\nThe assertions go trippingly on: he comes to the conclusion: he sticks\nfast: he is in a difficulty; for he wishes to say, that nothing can be\nwanting to a wise man to complete his happiness\u2014a very honourable\nsentiment, one worthy of Socrates, or even of Plato. Well, I do venture to\nassert that, says he. It is impossible, unless you remodel your premises:\nif poverty is an evil, no beggar can be happy be he ever so wise. But Zeno\nventured to call such a man not only happy, but also rich.\n\nTo be in pain is an evil; the man who is fastened to a cross cannot be\nhappy. Children are a good; childlessness is an evil. One\u2019s country is a\ngood; exile is an evil. Health is a good; disease is an evil. Vigour of\nbody is a good; feebleness is an evil. Clear sight is a good; blindness is\nan evil. But, though a man may be able to alleviate any single one of\nthese evils by consolation, how will he be able to endure them all? For,\nsuppose one person were blind, feeble, afflicted with grievous sickness,\nbanished, childless, in indigence, and put to the torture; what will you\ncall him, Zeno? Happy, says he. Will you call him most perfectly happy? To\nbe sure I will, says he, when I have taught him that happiness does not\nadmit of degrees any more than virtue, the mere possession of which makes\nhim happy. This seems to you incredible that he can call him perfectly\nhappy. What is your own doctrine? is that credible? For if you appeal to\nthe people, you will never convince them that a man in such a condition is\nhappy. If you appeal to prudent men, perhaps they will doubt as to one\npoint, namely, whether there is so much force in virtue that men endued\nwith that can be happy, even in Phalaris\u2019s bull; but they will not doubt\nat all that the Stoic language is consistent with itself and that yours is\nnot.\n\nDo you then, says he, approve of the book of Theophrastus on a happy life?\nWe are wandering from our subject; and that I may not be too tedious\u2014if,\nsaid I, Piso, those things are evils, I wholly approve of it. Do not they\nthen, said he, seem to you to be evils? Do you ask that? said I; whatever\nanswer I give you, you will find yourself in embarrassment. How so? said\nhe. Because, if they are evils, a man who is affected with them cannot be\nhappy. If they are not evils, there is an end to the whole system of the\nPeripatetics. And he laughing replied, I see what you are at; you are\nafraid I shall carry off your pupil. You may carry him off, said I, if he\nlikes to follow you; for he will still be with me if he is with you.\n\nXXIX. Listen then, said he, O Lucius; for, as Theophrastus says, I must\ndirect my discourse to you,\u2014the whole authority of philosophy consists in\nmaking life happy; for we are all inflamed with a desire of living\nhappily. This, both your brother and I agree upon. Wherefore we must see\nwhether the system of the philosophers can give us this. It promises to do\nso certainly: for, unless it made that promise, why did Plato travel over\nEgypt, to learn numbers and knowledge of the heavenly mysteries from\nbarbarian priests? Why afterwards did he go to Tarentum to Archytas; and\nto the other Pythagoreans of Locri, Echecrates, Tim\u00e6us, and Acrion; in\norder, after he had drained Socrates to the dregs, to add the doctrine of\nthe Pythagoreans to his, and to learn in addition those things which\nSocrates rejected? Why did Pythagoras himself travel over Egypt, and visit\nthe Persian Magi; why did he go on foot over so many countries of the\nbarbarians, and make so many voyages? Why did Democritus do the same? who,\n(whether it is true or false, we will not stop to inquire,) is said to\nhave put out his own eyes; certainly, in order that his mind might be\nabstracted from contemplation as little as possible; he neglected his\npatrimony, and left his lands uncultivated, and what other object could he\nhave had except a happy life? And if he placed that in the knowledge of\nthings, still from that investigation of natural philosophy he sought to\nacquire equanimity; for he called the summum bonum \u03b5\u1f50\u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03af\u03b1, and very often\n\u1f00\u03b8\u03b1\u03bc\u03b2\u03af\u03b1, that is to say, a mind free from alarm. But, although this was\nwell said, it was not very elegantly expressed; for he said very little\nabout virtue, and even what he did say, he did not express very clearly.\nFor it was not till after his death that these subjects were discussed in\nthis city, first by Socrates, and from Socrates they got entrance into the\nAcademy. Nor was there any doubt that all hope of living well and also\nhappily was placed in virtue: and when Zeno had learnt this from our\nschool, he began to express himself on the same subject in another manner,\nas lawyers do on trials. And now you approve of this conduct in him. Will\nyou then say that he by changing the names of things escaped the charge of\ninconsistency, and yet not allow us to do so too?\n\nHe asserts that the life of Metellus was not happier than that of Regulus,\nbut admits that it was preferable to it; he says it was not more to be\nsought after, but still to be taken in preference; and that if one had a\nchoice, one would choose the life of Metellus, and reject that of Regulus.\nWhat then he calls preferable, and worthy to be chosen in preference, I\ncall happier; and yet I do not attribute more importance to that sort of\nlife than the Stoics do. For what difference is there between us, except\nthat I call well-known things by well-known names, and that they seek for\nnew terms to express the same ideas? And so, as there is always some one\nin the senate who wants an interpreter, we, too, must listen to them with\nan interpreter. I call that good which is in accordance with nature; and\nwhatever is contrary to nature I call evil. Nor do I alone use the\ndefinition; you do also, O Chrysippus, in the forum and at home; but in\nthe school you discard it. What then? Do you think that men in general\nought to speak in one way, and philosophers in another, as to the\nimportance of which everything is? that learned men should hold one\nlanguage, and unlearned ones another? But as learned men are agreed of how\nmuch importance everything is, (if they were men, they would speak in the\nusual fashion,) why, as long as they leave the facts alone, they are\nwelcome to mould the names according to their fancy.\n\nXXX. But I come now to the charge of inconsistency, that you may not\nrepeat that I am making digressions; which you think exist only in\nlanguage, but which I used to consider depended on the subject of which\none was speaking. If it is sufficiently perceived (and here we have most\nexcellent assistance from the Stoics), that the power of virtue is so\ngreat, that if everything else were put on the opposite side, it would not\nbe even visible, when all things which they admit at least to be\nadvantages, and to deserve to be taken, and chosen, and preferred, and\nwhich they define as worthy of being highly estimated; when, I say, I call\nthese things goods which have so many names given them by the Stoics, some\nof which are new, and invented expressly for them, such as _producta_ and\n_reducta_, and some of which are merely synonymous; (for what difference\ncan it make whether you wish for a thing or choose it? that which is\nchosen, and on which deliberate choice is exercised, appears to me to be\nthe better) still, when I have called all these things goods, the question\nis merely how great goods I call them; when I say they deserved to be\nwished for, the question is,\u2014how eagerly?\n\nBut, if I do not attribute more importance to them when I say that they\ndeserve to be wished for, than you do who say they only deserve to be\nchosen, and if I do not value them more highly when I call them _bona_,\nthan you, when you speak of them as _producta_; then all these things must\ninevitably be involved in obscurity, and put out of sight, and lost amid\nthe rays of virtue like stars in the sunbeams. But that life in which\nthere is any evil cannot be happy. Then a corn-field full of thick and\nheavy ears of corn is not a corn-field if you see any tares anywhere; nor\nis traffic gainful if, amid the greatest gains, you incur the most\ntrifling loss. Do we ever act on different principles in any circumstances\nof life; and will you not judge of the whole from its greatest part? or is\nthere any doubt that virtue is so much the most important thing in all\nhuman affairs, that it throws all the rest into the shade?\n\nI will venture, then, to call the rest of the things which are in\naccordance with nature, goods, and not to cheat them of their ancient\ntitle, rather than go and hunt for some new name for them; and the dignity\nof virtue I will put, as it were, in the other scale of the balance.\nBelieve me, that scale will outweigh both earth and sea; for the whole\nalways has its name from that which embraces its largest part, and is the\nmost widely diffused. We say that one man lives merrily. Is there, then,\nan end of this merry life of his if he is for a moment a little poor?\n\nBut, in the case of that Marcus Crassus, who, Lucilius says, laughed once\nin his life, the fact of his having done so did not deliver him from being\ncalled \u1f00\u03b3\u03ad\u03bb\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. They call Polycrates of Samos happy. Nothing had ever\nhappened to him which he did not like, except that he had thrown into the\nsea a ring which he valued greatly; therefore he was unhappy as to that\none annoyance; but subsequently he was happy again when that same ring was\nfound in the belly of a fish. But he, if he was unwise (which he certainly\nwas, since he was a tyrant), was never happy; if he was wise he was not\nmiserable, even at the time when he was crucified by Or\u0153tes, the\nlieutenant of Darius. But he had great evils inflicted on him. Who denies\nthat?\u2014but those evils were overcome by the greatness of his virtue.\n\nXXXI. Do you not grant even this to the Peripatetics, that they may say\nthat the life of all good, that is, of all wise men, and of men adorned\nwith every virtue, has in all its parts more good than evil? Who says\nthis? The Stoics may say so. By no means. But do not those very men who\nmeasure everything by pleasure and pain, say loudly that the wise man has\nalways more things which he likes than dislikes? When, then, these men\nattribute so much to virtue, who confess that they would not even lift a\nfinger for the sake of virtue, if it did not bring pleasure with it, what\nought we to do, who say that ever so inconsiderable an excellence of mind\nis so superior to all the goods of the body, that they are put wholly out\nof sight by it? For who is there who can venture to say, that it can\nhappen to a wise man (even if such a thing were possible) to discard\nvirtue for ever, with a view of being released from all pain? Who of our\nschool, who are not ashamed to call those things evils which the Stoics\ncall only bitter, would say that it was better to do anything\ndishonourably with pleasure than honourably with pain? To us, indeed,\nDionysius of Heraclea appears to have deserted the Stoics in a shameful\nmanner, on account of the pain of his eyes; as if he had learnt from Zeno\nnot to be in pain when he was in pain. He had heard, but he had not\nlearnt, that it was not an evil, because it was not dishonourable, and\nbecause it might be borne by a man. If he had been a Peripatetic he would,\nI suppose, have adhered to his opinion, since they say that pain is an\nevil. And with respect to bearing its bitterness, they give the same\nprecepts as the Stoics; and, indeed, your friend Arcesilas, although he\nwas a rather pertinacious arguer, was still on our side; for he was a\npupil of Polemo; and when he was suffering under the pain of the gout, and\nCarneades, a most intimate friend of Epicurus, had come to see him, and\nwas going away very melancholy, said, \u201cStay awhile, I entreat you, friend\nCarneades; for the pain does not reach here,\u201d showing his feet and his\nbreast. Still he would have preferred being out of pain.\n\nXXXII. This, then, is our doctrine, which appears to you to be\ninconsistent, since, by reason of a certain heavenly, divine, and\ninexpressible excellence of virtue, so great, that wherever virtue and\ngreat, desirable, and praiseworthy exploits done by virtue are, there\nmisery and grief cannot be, but nevertheless labour and annoyance can be,\nI do not hesitate to affirm that all wise men are always happy, but still,\nthat it is possible that one man may be more happy than another.\n\nBut this is exactly the assertion, Piso, said I, which you are bound to\nprove over and over again; and if you establish it, then you may take with\nyou not only my young Cicero here, but me too. Then, said Quintus, it\nappears to me that this has been sufficiently proved. I am glad, indeed,\nthat philosophy, the treasures of which I have been used to value above\nthe possession of everything else (so rich did it appear to me, that I\ncould ask of it whatever I desired to know in our studies),\u2014I rejoice,\ntherefore, that it has been found more acute than all other arts, for it\nwas in acuteness that some people asserted that it was deficient. Not a\nmite more so than ours, surely, said Pomponius, jestingly. But, seriously,\nI have been very much pleased with what you have said; for what I did not\nthink could be expressed in Latin has been expressed by you, and that no\nless clearly than by the Greeks, and in not less well adapted language.\nBut it is time to depart, if you please; and let us go to my house.\n\nAnd when he had said this, as it appeared that we had discussed the\nsubject sufficiently, we all went into the town to the house of Pomponius.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS.\n\n\n\n\nIntroduction.\n\n\nIn the year A.U.C. 708, and the 62d year of Cicero\u2019s age, his daughter,\nTullia, died in childbed; and her loss afflicted Cicero to such a degree\nthat he abandoned all public business, and, leaving the city, retired to\nAsterra, which was a country house that he had near Antium; where, after a\nwhile, he devoted himself to philosophical studies, and, besides other\nworks, he published his Treatise de Finibus, and also this Treatise called\nthe Tusculan Disputations, of which Middleton gives this concise\ndescription:\u2014\n\n\u201cThe 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\u201cThe second, to support pain and affliction with a manly fortitude;\n\n\u201cThe third, to appease all our complaints and uneasinesses under the\naccidents of life;\n\n\u201cThe fourth, to moderate all our other passions;\n\n\u201cAnd the fifth explains the sufficiency of virtue to make men happy.\u201d\n\nIt was his custom in the opportunities of his leisure to take some friends\nwith him into the country, where, instead of amusing themselves with idle\nsports or feasts, their diversions were wholly speculative, tending to\nimprove the mind and enlarge the understanding. In this manner he now\nspent five days at his Tusculan villa in discussing with his friends the\nseveral questions just mentioned. For, after employing the mornings in\ndeclaiming and rhetorical exercises, they used to retire in the afternoon\ninto a gallery, called the Academy, which he had built for the purpose of\nphilosophical conferences, where, after the manner of the Greeks, he held\na school as they called it, and invited the company to call for any\nsubject that they desired to hear explained, which being proposed\naccordingly by some of the audience became immediately the argument of\nthat day\u2019s debate. These five conferences or dialogues he collected\nafterwards into writing in the very words and manner in which they really\npassed; and published them under the title of his Tusculan Disputations,\nfrom the name of the villa in which they were held.\n\n\n\n\nBook I. On The Contempt Of Death.\n\n\nI. At a time when I had entirely, or to a great degree, released myself\nfrom my labours as an advocate, and from my duties as a senator, I had\nrecourse again, Brutus, principally by your advice, to those studies which\nnever had been out of my mind, although neglected at times, and which\nafter a long interval I resumed: and now since the principles and rules of\nall arts which relate to living well depend on the study of wisdom, which\nis called philosophy, I have thought it an employment worthy of me to\nillustrate them in the Latin tongue: not because philosophy could not be\nunderstood in the Greek language, or by the teaching of Greek masters; but\nit has always been my opinion, that our countrymen have, in some\ninstances, made wiser discoveries than the Greeks, with reference to those\nsubjects which they have considered worthy of devoting their attention to,\nand in others have improved upon their discoveries, so that in one way or\nother we surpass them on every point: for, with regard to the manners and\nhabits of private life, and family and domestic affairs, we certainly\nmanage them with more elegance, and better than they did; and as to our\nrepublic, that our ancestors have, beyond all dispute, formed on better\ncustoms and laws. What shall I say of our military affairs; in which our\nancestors have been most eminent in valour, and still more so in\ndiscipline? As to those things which are attained not by study, but\nnature, neither Greece, nor any nation, is comparable to us: for what\npeople has displayed such gravity, such steadiness, such greatness of\nsoul, probity, faith\u2014such distinguished virtue of every kind, as to be\nequal to 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 amongst the Greeks the poets were the most ancient\nspecies of learned men,\u2014since Homer and Hesiod lived before the foundation\nof Rome, and Archilochus(50) was a contemporary of Romulus,\u2014we received\npoetry much later. For it was about five hundred and ten years after the\nbuilding of Rome before Livius(51) published a play in the consulship of\nC. Claudius, the son of C\u00e6cus, and M. Tuditanus, a year before the birth\nof Ennius, who was older than Plautus and N\u00e6vius.\n\nII. It was, therefore, late before poets were either known or received\namongst 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\u2019s shows this kind of poetry to have been\nin no great esteem, as he censures Marcus Nobilior, for carrying poets\nwith him into his province: for that consul, as we know, carried Ennius\nwith him into \u00c6tolia. Therefore the less esteem poets were in, the less\nwere those studies pursued: though even then those who did display the\ngreatest abilities that way, were not very inferior to the Greeks. Do we\nimagine that if it had been considered commendable in Fabius,(52) a man of\nthe highest rank, to paint, we should not have had many Polycleti and\nParrbasii. Honour nourishes art, and glory is the spur with all to\nstudies; while those studies are always neglected in every nation, which\nare looked upon disparagingly. The Greeks held skill in vocal and\ninstrumental music as a very important accomplishment, and therefore it is\nrecorded of Epaminondas, who, in my opinion, was the greatest man amongst\nthe Greeks, that he played excellently on the flute; and Themistocles some\nyears before was deemed ignorant because at an entertainment he declined\nthe lyre when it was offered to him. For this reason musicians flourished\nin Greece; music was a general study; and whoever was unacquainted with\nit, was not considered as fully instructed in learning. Geometry was in\nhigh esteem with them, therefore none were more honourable than\nmathematicians; but we have confined this art to bare measuring and\ncalculating.\n\nIII. But on the contrary, we early entertained an esteem for the orator;\nthough he was not at first a man of learning, but only quick at speaking;\nin subsequent times he became learned; for it is reported that Galba,\nAfricanus, and L\u00e6lius, were men of learning; and that even Cato, who\npreceded them in point of time, was a studious man: then succeeded the\nLepidi, Carbo, and Gracchi, and so many great orators after them, down to\nour own times, that we were very little, if at all, inferior to the\nGreeks. Philosophy has been at a low ebb even to this present time, and\nhas had no assistance from our own language, and so now I have undertaken\nto raise and illustrate it, in order that, as I have been of service to my\ncountrymen, when employed on public affairs, I may, if possible, be so\nlikewise in my retirement; and in this I must take the more pains, because\nthere are already many books in the Latin language which are said to be\nwritten inaccurately, having been composed by excellent men, only not of\nsufficient learning: for indeed it is possible that a man may think well,\nand yet not be able to express his thoughts elegantly; but for any one to\npublish thoughts which he can neither arrange skilfully nor illustrate so\nas to entertain his reader, is an unpardonable abuse of letters and\nretirement: they, therefore, read their books to one another, and no one\never takes them up but those who wish to have the same licence for\ncareless writing allowed to themselves. Wherefore, if oratory has acquired\nany reputation from my industry, I shall take the more pains to open the\nfountains of philosophy, from which all my eloquence has taken its rise.\n\nIV. But, as Aristotle,(53) a man of the greatest genius, and of the most\nvarious knowledge, being excited by the glory of the rhetorician\nIsocrates,(54) commenced teaching young men to speak, and joined\nphilosophy with eloquence: so it is my design not to lay aside my former\nstudy of oratory, and yet to employ myself at the same time in this\ngreater and more fruitful art; for I have always thought, that to be able\nto speak copiously and elegantly on the most important questions, was the\nmost perfect philosophy. And I have so diligently applied myself to this\npursuit that I have already ventured to have a school like the Greeks. And\nlately when you left us, having many of my friends about me, I attempted\nat my Tusculan villa what I could do in that way; for as I formerly used\nto practise declaiming, which nobody continued longer than myself, so this\nis now to be the declamation of my old age. I desired any one to propose a\nquestion which he wished to have discussed: and then I argued that point\neither sitting or walking, and so I have compiled the schol\u00e6, as the\nGreeks call them, of five days, in as many books. We proceeded in this\nmanner: when he who had proposed the subject for discussion had said what\nhe thought proper, I spoke against him; for this is, you know, the old and\nSocratic method of arguing against another\u2019s opinion; for Socrates thought\nthat thus the truth would more easily be arrived at. But to give you a\nbetter notion of our disputations, I will not barely send you an account\nof them, but represent them to you as they were carried on; therefore let\nthe introduction be thus:\u2014\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 born,\nor ever shall be, are not only miserable, but always will be so; for\nshould you maintain those only to be miserable, you would not except any\none living, for all must die; but there should be an end of misery in\ndeath. But seeing that the dead are miserable, we are born to eternal\nmisery, for they must of consequence be miserable who died a hundred\nthousand 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 Cerberus\nin the shades below, and the roaring waves of Cocytus, and the passage\nover Acheron, and Tantalus expiring with thirst, while the water touches\nhis chin; and Sisyphus,\n\n\n    Who sweats with arduous toil in vain\n    The steepy summit of the mount to gain?\n\n\nPerhaps, too, you dread the inexorable judges, Minos and Rhadamanthus;\nbefore whom neither L. Crassus, nor M. Antonius can defend you; and where,\nsince the cause lies before Grecian judges, you will not even be able to\nemploy Demosthenes: but you must plead for yourself before a very great\nassembly. These things perhaps you dread, and therefore look on death as\nan 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 refute\nthese monstrous inventions of the poets and painters?(55)\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 concerned\nabout 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 they\nhave 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 same\nbreath. Where now is your sagacity? when you say any one is miserable, you\nsay 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 honour; 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 an\nexistence; but you just now denied that the dead had any existence; if,\nthen, they have not, they can be nothing; and if so, they are not even\nmiserable.\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 who\nare not yet born, are miserable because they are not; and we ourselves, if\nwe are to be miserable after death, were miserable before we were born:\nbut I do not remember that I was miserable before I was born; and I should\nbe glad to know, if your memory is better, what you recollect of yourself\nbefore you were born.\n\nVII. _A._ You are pleasant; as if I had said that those men are miserable\nwho 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 what\nis a greater contradiction, than that they should be not only miserable,\nbut should have any existence at all, which does not exist? When you go\nout at the Capene gate and see the tombs of the Calatini, the Scipios,\nServilii, 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 have\nno existence.\n\n_M._ You do not say, then, \u201cM. Crassus is miserable,\u201d but only \u201cMiserable\nM. Crassus.\u201d\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 of\nlogic? for this is the first thing they lay down, Whatever is asserted,\n(for that is the best way that occurs to me, at the moment, of rendering\nthe Greek term, \u1f00\u03be\u03af\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1, if I can think of a more accurate expression\nhereafter I will use it,) is asserted as being either true or false. When,\ntherefore, you say, \u201cMiserable M. Crassus,\u201d you either say this, \u201cM.\nCrassus is miserable,\u201d so that some judgment may be made whether it is\ntrue or false, or you say nothing at all.\n\n_A._ Well, then, I now own that the dead are not miserable, since you have\ndrawn from me a concession, that they who do not exist at all, cannot be\nmiserable. What then? we that are alive, are we not wretched, seeing we\nmust die? for what is there agreeable in life, when we must night and day\nreflect that, at some time or other, we must die?\n\nVIII. _M._ Do you not, then, perceive how great is the evil from which you\nhave 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 when\nI have reached it, there is nothing more to be feared; but you seem to me\nto follow the opinion of Epicharmus,(56) a man of some discernment, and\nsharp 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 to\nbring in Latin sentences in a Greek discourse, than Greek in a Latin one.\n\n_A._ And that is right enough: but what is that opinion of Epicharmus?\n\n_M._\n\n\n    I would not die, but yet\n    Am not concerned that I shall be dead.\n\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 die\ncan be no evil; for that is only the being obliged to arrive at a place\nwhere 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 are\nthose more important things about which you say that you are occupied?\n\n_M._ To teach you, if I can, that death is not only no evil, but a good.\n\n_A._ I do not insist on that, but should be glad to hear you argue it, for\neven though you should not prove your point, yet you will prove that death\nis no evil: but I will not interrupt you, I would rather hear a continued\ndiscourse.\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 but\nwhere 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,\nendeavouring 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 by\nthe 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 so\nwell understood, really is; for some imagine death to be the departure of\nthe soul from the body; others think that there is no such departure, but\nthat soul and body perish together, and that, the soul is extinguished\nwith the body. Of those who think that the soul does depart from the body,\nsome believe in its immediate dissolution; others fancy that it continues\nto exist for a time; and others believe that it lasts for ever. There is\ngreat dispute even what the soul is, where it is, and whence it is\nderived: with some, the heart itself (cor) seems to be the soul, hence the\nexpressions, _excordes_, _vecordes_, _concordes_; and that prudent Nasica,\nwho was twice consul, was called Corculus, _i.e._ wise-heart; and \u00c6lius\nSextus is described as _Egregie cordatus homo, catus \u00c6liu\u2019 Sextus_\u2014that\ngreat _wise-hearted_ man, sage \u00c6lius. Empedocles imagines the blood, which\nis suffused 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 the\nbrain is so. Some would have the soul, or spirit, to be the _anima_, as\nour schools generally agree; and indeed the name signifies as much, for we\nuse the expressions _animam agere_, to live; _animam efflare_, to expire;\n_animosi_, men of spirit; _bene animati_, men of right feeling; _exanimi\nsententia_, according to our real opinion\u2014and the very word _animus_ is\nderived from _anima_. Again, the soul seems to 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 entertained\nby individuals; and indeed there were many amongst the ancients who held\nsingular opinions on this subject, of whom the latest was Aristoxenus, a\nman who was both a musician and a philosopher; he maintained a certain\nstraining of the body, like what is called harmony in music, to be the\nsoul; and believed that, from the figure and nature of the whole body,\nvarious motions are excited, as sounds are from an instrument. He adhered\nsteadily to his system, and yet he said something, the nature of which,\nwhatever it was, had been detailed and explained a great while before by\nPlato. Xenocrates denied that the soul had any figure, or anything like a\nbody; but said it was a number, the power of which, as Pythagoras had\nfancied, some ages before, was the greatest in nature: his master, Plato,\nimagined a three-fold soul; a dominant portion of which, that is to say,\nreason, he had lodged in the head, as in a tower; and the other two parts,\nnamely, anger and desire, he made subservient to this one, and allotted\nthem distinct abodes, placing anger in the breast, and desire under the\npr\u00e6cordia. But Dic\u00e6archus, in that discourse of some learned disputants,\nheld at Corinth, 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 use\nthe expression, \u201canimals,\u201d or \u201canimated beings;\u201d that neither men nor\nbeasts have minds or souls; but that all that power, by which we act or\nperceive, is equally infused into every living creature, and is\ninseparable from the body, for if it were not, it would be nothing; nor is\nthere anything whatever really existing except body, which is a single and\nsimple thing, so fashioned, as to live and have its sensations in\nconsequence of the regulations of nature. Aristotle, a man superior to all\nothers, both in genius and industry (I always except Plato), after having\nembraced these four known sorts of principles, from which all things\ndeduce their origin, imagines that there is a certain fifth nature, from\nwhence comes the soul; for to think, to foresee, to learn, to teach, to\ninvent anything, and many other attributes of the same kind, such as, to\nremember, to love, to hate, to desire, to fear, to be pleased or\ndispleased; these, and others like them, exist, he thinks, in none of\nthose first four kinds: on such account he adds a fifth kind, which has no\nname, and so by a new name he calls the soul \u1f10\u03bd\u03b4\u03b5\u03bb\u03ad\u03c7\u03b9\u03b1, 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 very\ngreat man indeed, but one who deduces the soul from the fortuitous\nconcourse of small, light, and round substances; for, if you believe men\nof his school, there is nothing which a crowd of atoms cannot effect.\nWhich of these opinions is true, some god must determine. It is an\nimportant question for us, which has the most appearance of truth. Shall\nwe, then, prefer determining between them, or shall we return to our\nsubject?\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 of\ndeath, let us proceed to do so; but if this is not to be done without\nexplaining the question about souls, let us have that now, and the other\nat 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 evil;\nor that it must rather be something desirable, for if either the heart, or\nthe blood, or the brain, is the soul, then certainly the soul, being\ncorporeal, must perish with the rest of the body; if it is air, it will\nperhaps be dissolved; if it is fire, it will be extinguished; if it is\nAristoxenus\u2019s harmony, it will be put out of tune. What shall I say of\nDic\u00e6archus, who denies that there is any soul? In all these opinions,\nthere is nothing to affect any one after death; for all feeling is lost\nwith life, and where there is no sensation, nothing can interfere to\naffect us. The opinions of others do indeed bring us hope; if it is any\npleasure to you to think that souls, after they leave the body, may go to\nheaven as to a permanent home.\n\n_A._ I have great pleasure in that thought, and it is what I most desire;\nand even if it should not be so, I should still be very willing to believe\nit.\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 soul,\nyou 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 to\npass, I agree with it whilst I am reading it, but when I have laid down\nthe book, and begin to reflect with myself on the immortality of the soul,\nall 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 happy;\nbut if they perish, I cannot suppose them to be unhappy, because, in fact,\nthey have no existence at all. You drove me to that concession but just\nnow.\n\n_M._ How, then, can you, or why do you, assert that you think that death\nis an evil, when it either makes us happy, in the case of the soul\ncontinuing to exist, or, at all events, not unhappy, in the case of our\nbecoming destitute of all sensation.\n\nXII. _A._ Explain, therefore, if it is not troublesome to you, first, if\nyou can, that souls do exist after death; secondly, should you fail in\nthat, (and it is a very difficult thing to establish,) that death is free\nfrom all evil; for I am not without my fears that this itself is an evil;\nI do not mean the immediate deprivation of sense, but the fact that we\nshall 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 near\nit is to its origin and divine descent, the more clearly, perhaps, on that\naccount did it discern the truth in these matters. This very doctrine,\nthen, was adopted by all those ancients, whom Ennius calls in the Sabine\ntongue, Casci, namely, that in death there was a sensation, and that, when\nmen departed this life, they were not so entirely destroyed as to perish\nabsolutely. And this may appear from many other circumstances, and\nespecially from the pontifical rites and funeral obsequies, which men of\nthe greatest genius would not have been so solicitous about, and would not\nhave guarded from any injury by such severe laws, but from a firm\npersuasion that death was not so entire a destruction as wholly to abolish\nand destroy everything, but rather a kind of transmigration, as it were,\nand change of life, which was, in the case of illustrious men and women,\nusually a guide to heaven, while in that of others, it was still confined\nto the earth, but in such a manner as still to exist. From this, and the\nsentiments of the Romans,\n\n\n    In heaven Romulus with Gods now lives;\n\n\nas Ennius saith, agreeing with the common belief; hence, too Hercules is\nconsidered so great and propitious a god amongst the Greeks, and from them\nhe was introduced among us, and his worship has extended even to the very\nocean itself. This is how it was that Bacchus was deified, the offspring\nof Semele; and from the same illustrious fame we receive Castor and Pollux\nas gods, who are reported not only to have helped the Romans to victory in\ntheir battles, but to have been the messengers of their success. What\nshall we say of Ino, the daughter of Cadmus? is she not called Leucothea\nby the Greeks, and Matuta by us? Nay more; is not the whole of heaven (not\nto dwell on particulars) almost filled with the 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 are\ncalled their principal gods, were taken from among men up into heaven.\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 they\nwho were not acquainted with natural philosophy, (for it did not begin to\nbe in vogue till many years later,) had no higher belief than what natural\nreason could give them; they were not acquainted with the principles and\ncauses of things; they were often induced by certain visions, and those\ngenerally in the night, to think that those men, who had departed from\nthis life, were still alive. And this may further be brought as an\nirrefragable argument for us to believe that there are gods,\u2014that there\nnever was any nation so barbarous, nor any people in the world so savage,\nas to be without some notion of gods: many have wrong notions of the gods,\nfor that is the nature and ordinary consequence of bad customs, yet all\nallow that there is a certain divine nature and energy. Nor does this\nproceed from the conversation of men, or the agreement of philosophers; it\nis not an opinion established by institutions or by laws; but, no doubt,\nin every case the consent of all nations is to be looked on as a law of\nnature. Who is there, then, that does not lament the loss of his friends,\nprincipally from imagining them deprived of the conveniences of life? Take\naway 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 may\nbe sorry, and grieve a little; but that bitter lamentation, and those\nmournful tears, have their origin in our apprehensions that he whom we\nloved is deprived of all the advantages of life, and is sensible of his\nloss. And we are led to this opinion by nature, without any arguments or\nany instruction.\n\nXIV. But the greatest proof of all is, that nature herself gives a silent\njudgment in favour of the immortality of the soul, inasmuch as all are\nanxious, and that to a great degree, about the things which concern\nfuturity;\u2014\n\n\n    One plants what future ages shall enjoy,\n\n\nas Statius saith in his Synephebi. What is his object in doing so, except\nthat he is interested in posterity? Shall the industrious husbandman,\nthen, plant trees the fruit of which he shall never see? and shall not the\ngreat man found laws, institutions, and a republic? What does the\nprocreation of children imply\u2014and our care to continue our names\u2014and our\nadoptions\u2014and our scrupulous exactness in drawing up wills\u2014and the\ninscriptions on monuments, and panegyrics, but that our thoughts run on\nfuturity? There is no doubt but a judgment may be formed of nature in\ngeneral, from looking at each nature in its most perfect specimens; and\nwhat is a more perfect specimen of a man, than those are who look on\nthemselves as born for the assistance, the protection, and the\npreservation of others? Hercules has gone to heaven; he never would have\ngone thither, had he not, whilst amongst men, made that road for himself.\nThese things are of old date, and have, besides, the sanction of universal\nreligion.\n\nXV. What will you say? what do you imagine that so many and such great men\nof our republic, who have sacrificed their lives for its good, expected?\nDo you believe that they thought that their names should not continue\nbeyond their lives? None ever encountered death for their country, but\nunder a firm persuasion of immortality! Themistocles might have lived at\nhis ease; so might Epaminondas; and, not to look abroad and amongst the\nancients for instances, so might I myself. But, somehow or other, there\nclings to our minds a certain presage of future ages; and this both exists\nmost firmly and appears most clearly, in men of the loftiest genius and\ngreatest souls. Take away this, and who would be so mad as to spend his\nlife amidst toils and dangers? I speak of those in power. What are the\npoet\u2019s views but to be ennobled after death? What else is the object of\nthese lines\u2014\n\n\n    Behold old Ennius here, who erst\n    Thy fathers\u2019 great exploits rehearsed?\n\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\u2014\n\n\n    Let none with tears my funeral grace, for I\n    Claim from my works an immortality.\n\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 our\nphilosophers think on the subject? do not they put their names to those\nvery books which they write on the contempt of glory? If, then, universal\nconsent is the voice of nature, and if it is the general opinion\neverywhere, that those who have quitted this life are still interested in\nsomething; we also must subscribe to that opinion. And if we think that\nmen of the greatest abilities and virtue see most clearly into the power\nof nature, because they themselves are her most perfect work; it is very\nprobable that, as every great man is especially anxious to benefit\nposterity, there is something of which he himself will be sensible after\ndeath.\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 of\nall nations, we are induced to believe that our souls survive; but where\ntheir habitation is, and of what character they eventually are, must be\nlearned from reason. The want of any certain reason on which to argue has\ngiven rise to the idea of the shades below, and to those fears, which you\nseem, not without reason, to despise: for as our bodies fall to the\nground, and are covered with earth (_humus_), from whence we derive the\nexpression to be interred (_humari_), that has occasioned men to imagine\nthat the dead continue, during the remainder of their existence, under\nground; which opinion has drawn after it many errors, which the poets have\nincreased; for the theatre, being frequented by a large crowd, among which\nare women and children, is wont to be greatly affected on hearing such\npompous verses as these\u2014\n\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\u2019d stones tremendous hung,\n    Where dreadful darkness spread itself around:\n\n\nand the error prevailed so much, though indeed at present it seems to me\nto be removed, that although men knew that the bodies of the dead had been\nburned, yet they conceived such things to be done in the infernal regions\nas could not be executed or imagined without a body; for they could not\nconceive how disembodied souls could exist; and, therefore, they looked\nout for some shape or figure. This was the origin of all that account of\nthe dead in Homer. This was the idea that caused my friend Appius to frame\nhis Necromancy; and this is how there got about that idea of the lake of\nAvernus, in my neighbourhood,\u2014\n\n\n    From whence the souls of undistinguish\u2019d shape,\n    Clad in thick shade, rush from the open gate\n    Of Acheron, vain phantoms of the dead.\n\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 by\ntheir mind alone, they referred all to their eyes. To withdraw the mind\nfrom 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(57) 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 my\nnamesake Tullus. His disciple Pythagoras greatly confirmed this opinion,\nwho came into Italy in the reign of Tarquin the Proud: and all that\ncountry which is called Great Greece was occupied by his school, and he\nhimself was held in high honour, and had the greatest authority: and the\nPythagorean sect was for many ages after in such great credit, that all\nlearning was believed to be confined to that name.\n\nXVII. But I return to the ancients. They scarcely ever gave any reason for\ntheir opinion but what could be explained by numbers or definitions. It is\nreported of Plato, that he came into Italy to make himself acquainted with\nthe Pythagoreans; and that when there, amongst others, he made an\nacquaintance with Archytas(58) and Tim\u00e6us,(59) and learned from them all\nthe tenets of the Pythagoreans; and that he not only was of the same\nopinion with Pythagoras concerning the immortality of the soul, but that\nhe also brought reasons in support of it; which, if you have nothing to\nsay against it, I will pass over, and say no more at present about all\nthis hope of immortality.\n\n_A._ What, will you leave me when you have raised my expectations so high?\nI had rather, so help me Hercules! be mistaken with Plato, whom I know how\nmuch you esteem, and whom I admire myself from what you say of him, than\nbe in the right with those others.\n\n_M._ I commend you; for, indeed, I could myself willingly be mistaken in\nhis company. Do we, then, doubt, as we do in other cases, (though I think\nhere is very little room for doubt in this case, for the mathematicians\nprove the facts to us,) that the earth is placed in the midst of the\nworld, being as it were a sort of point, which they call a \u03ba\u03ad\u03bd\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd,\nsurrounded by the whole heavens; and that such is the nature of the four\nprinciples, which are the generating causes of all things, that they have\nequally divided amongst them the constituents of all bodies; moreover that\nearthy and humid bodies are carried at equal angles, by their own weight\nand ponderosity, into the earth and sea; that the other two parts consist\none of fire and the other of air? As the two former are carried by their\ngravity and weight into the middle region of the world; so these, on the\nother hand, ascend by right lines into the celestial regions; either\nbecause, owing to their intrinsic nature, they are always endeavouring to\nreach the highest place, or else because lighter bodies are naturally\nrepelled by heavier; and as this is notoriously the case, it must\nevidently follow, that souls, when once they have departed from the body,\nwhether they are animal, (by which term I mean capable of breathing,) or\nof the nature of fire, must mount upwards: but if the soul is some number,\nas some people assert, speaking with more subtlety than clearness, or if\nit is that 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\u2014still 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 be,\nthat we may not commit the folly of thinking that so active a principle\nlies immerged in the heart or brain; or, as Empedocles would have it, in\nthe blood.\n\nXVIII. We will pass over Dic\u00e6archus,(60) with his contemporary and\nfellow-disciple Aristoxenus,(61) both indeed men of learning. One of them\nseems 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 endeavours to show an analogy betwixt them\nand souls. Now, we may understand harmony to arise from the intervals of\nsounds, whose various compositions occasion many harmonies; but I do not\nsee how a disposition of members, and the figure of a body without a soul,\ncan occasion harmony; he had better, learned as he is, leave these\nspeculations to his master Aristotle, and follow his own trade, as a\nmusician; good advice is given him in that Greek proverb,\u2014\n\n\n    Apply your talents where you best are skill\u2019d.\n\n\nI will have nothing at all to do with that fortuitous concourse of\nindividual light and round bodies, notwithstanding Democritus insists on\ntheir being warm, and having breath, that is to say, life. But this soul,\nwhich is compounded of either of the four principles from which we assert\nthat all things are derived, is of inflamed air, as seems particularly to\nhave been the opinion of Pan\u00e6tius, and must necessarily mount upwards; for\nair and fire have no tendency downwards, but always ascend; so should they\nbe dissipated, that must be at some distance from the earth; but should\nthey remain, and preserve their original state, it is clearer still that\nthey must be carried heavenward; and this gross and concrete air, which is\nnearest the earth, must be divided and broken by them; for the soul is\nwarmer, or rather hotter than that air, which I just now called gross and\nconcrete; and this may be made evident from this consideration,\u2014that our\nbodies, being compounded of the earthy class of principles, grow warm by\nthe heat of the soul.\n\nXIX. We may add, that the soul can the more easily escape from this air,\nwhich I have often named, and break through it; because nothing is swifter\nthan the soul; no swiftness is comparable to the swiftness of the soul;\nwhich, should it remain uncorrupt and without alteration, must necessarily\nbe carried on with such velocity as to penetrate and divide all this\natmosphere, where clouds, and rain, and winds are formed; which, in\nconsequence of the exhalations from the earth, is moist and dark; but,\nwhen the soul has once got above this region, and falls in with, and\nrecognises a nature like its own, it then rests upon fires composed of a\ncombination of thin air and a moderate solar heat, and does not aim at any\nhigher flight. For then, after it has attained a lightness and heat\nresembling its own, it moves no more, but remains steady, being balanced,\nas it were, between two equal weights. That, then, is its natural seat\nwhere it has penetrated to something like itself; and where, wanting\nnothing further, it may be supported and maintained by the same aliment\nwhich nourishes and maintains the stars.\n\nNow, as we are usually incited to all sorts of desires by the stimulus of\nthe body, and the more so, as we endeavour 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 desires\nand this rivalry: and, that which we do at present, when, dismissing all\nother cares, we curiously examine and look into anything, we shall then do\nwith greater freedom; and we shall employ ourselves entirely in the\ncontemplation and examination of things; because there is naturally in our\nminds a certain insatiable desire to know the truth; and the very region\nitself where we shall arrive, as it gives us a more intuitive and easy\nknowledge of celestial things, will raise our desires after knowledge. For\nit was this beauty of the heavens, as seen even here upon earth, which\ngave birth to that national and hereditary philosophy, (as Theophrastus\ncalls it,) which was thus excited to a desire of knowledge. But those\npersons will in a most especial degree enjoy this philosophy, who, while\nthey were only inhabitants of this world and enveloped in darkness, were\nstill desirous 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 have\nseen the mouth of the Pontus, and those straits which were passed by the\nship called Argo, because,\n\n\n    From Argos she did chosen men convey,\n    Bound to fetch back the golden fleece, their prey;\n\n\nor those who have seen the straits of the ocean,\n\n\n    Where the swift waves divide the neighbouring shores\n    Of Europe, and of Afric.\n\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, and\nboundaries, nor those parts of it only which are habitable, but those also\nthat lie uncultivated, through the extremities of heat and cold to which\nthey are exposed; for not even now is it with our eyes that we view what\nwe see, for the body itself has no senses; but (as the naturalists, aye,\nand even the physicians assure us, who have opened our bodies, and\nexamined them), there are certain perforated channels from the seat of the\nsoul to the eyes, ears, and nose; so that frequently, when either\nprevented by meditation, or the force of some bodily disorder, we neither\nhear nor see, though our eyes and ears are open, and in good condition; so\nthat we may easily apprehend that it is the soul itself which sees and\nhears, and not those parts which are, as it were, but windows to the soul;\nby means of which, however, she can perceive nothing, unless she is on the\nspot, and exerts herself. How shall we account for the fact, that by the\nsame power of thinking we comprehend the most different things; as colour,\ntaste, heat, smell, and sound? which the soul could never know by her five\nmessengers, unless everything was referred to her, and she were the sole\njudge of all. And we shall certainly discover these things in a more clear\nand perfect 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 way\nor other, stopped up with earthy and concrete bodies; but when we shall be\nnothing but soul, then nothing will interfere to prevent our seeing\neverything 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 those\nheavenly regions; when I reflect on which, I am apt to wonder at the\nboldness of some philosophers, who are so struck with admiration at the\nknowledge of nature, as to thank, in an exulting manner, the first\ninventor and teacher of natural philosophy, and to reverence him as a God:\nfor they declare that they have been delivered by his means from the\ngreatest tyrants, a perpetual terror, and a fear that molested them by\nnight and day. What is this dread\u2014this fear? what old woman is there so\nweak as to fear these things, which you, forsooth, had you not been\nacquainted with natural philosophy, would stand in awe of?\n\n\n    The hallow\u2019d roofs of Acheron, the dread\n    Of Orcus, the pale regions of the dead.\n\n\nAnd does it become a philosopher to boast that he is not afraid of these\nthings, and that he has discovered them to be false? And from this we may\nperceive how acute these men were by nature, who, if they had been left\nwithout any instruction would have believed in these things. But now they\nhave certainly made a very fine acquisition in learning that when the day\nof their death arrives they will perish entirely; and, if that really is\nthe case, for I say nothing either way, what is there agreeable or\nglorious in it? Not that I see any reason why the opinion of Pythagoras\nand Plato may not be true: but even although Plato were to have assigned\nno reason for his opinion (observe how much I esteem the man), the weight\nof his authority would have borne me down; but he has brought so many\nreasons, that he appears to me to have endeavoured to convince others, and\ncertainly to have convinced himself.\n\nXXII. But there are many who labour on the other side of the question, and\ncondemn souls to death, as if they were criminals capitally convicted; nor\nhave they any other reason to allege why the immortality of the soul\nappears to them to be incredible, except that they are not able to\nconceive what sort of thing the soul can be when disentangled from the\nbody; just as if they could really form a correct idea as to what sort of\nthing it is, even when it is in the body; what its form, and size, and\nabode are; so that were they able to have a full view of all that is now\nhidden from them in a living body, they have no idea whether the soul\nwould be discernible by them, or whether it is of so fine a texture that\nit would escape their sight. Let those consider this, who say that they\nare unable to form any idea of the soul without the body, and then they\nwill see whether they can form any adequate idea of what it is when it is\nin the body. For my own part, when I reflect on the nature of the soul, it\nappears to me a far more perplexing and obscure question to determine what\nis its character while it is in the body, a place which, as it were, does\nnot belong to it, than to imagine what it is when it leaves it, and has\narrived at the free \u00e6ther, 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 may\nbe able to form some notion of God, and of the divine soul when released\nfrom the body. Dic\u00e6archus, indeed, and Aristoxenus, because it was hard to\nunderstand the existence, and substance, and nature of the soul, asserted\nthat there was no such thing as a soul at all. It is, indeed, the most\ndifficult thing imaginable, to discern the soul by the soul. And this,\ndoubtless, is the meaning of the precept of Apollo, which advises every\none to know himself. For I do not apprehend the meaning of the god to have\nbeen, that we should understand our members, our stature, and form; for we\nare not merely bodies; nor, when I say these things to you, am I\naddressing myself to your body: when, therefore, he says, \u201cKnow yourself,\u201d\nhe says this, \u201cInform yourself of the nature of your soul;\u201d for the body\nis but a kind of vessel, or receptacle of the soul, and whatever your soul\ndoes is your own act. To know the soul, then, unless it had been divine,\nwould not have been a precept of such excellent wisdom, as to be\nattributed to a god; but even though the soul should not know of what\nnature itself is, will you say that it does not even perceive that it\nexists at all, or that it has motion? on which is founded that reason of\nPlato\u2019s, which is explained by Socrates in the Ph\u00e6drus, and inserted by\nme, in my sixth book of the Republic.\n\nXXIII. \u201cThat which is always moved is eternal; but that which gives motion\nto something else, and is moved itself by some external cause, when that\nmotion ceases, must necessarily cease to exist. That, therefore, alone,\nwhich is self-moved, because it is never forsaken by itself, can never\ncease to be moved. Besides, it is the beginning and principle of motion to\neverything else; but whatever is a principle has no beginning, for all\nthings arise from that principle, and it cannot itself owe its rise to\nanything else; for then it would not be a principle did it proceed from\nanything else. But if it has no beginning, it never will have any end; for\na principle which is once extinguished, cannot itself be restored by\nanything else, nor can it produce anything else from itself; inasmuch as\nall things must necessarily arise from some first cause. And thus it comes\nabout, that the first principle of motion must arise from that thing which\nis itself 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 any\nforce, by the impulse of which it might be first set in motion. Seeing,\nthen, that it is clear, that whatever moves itself is eternal, can there\nbe any doubt that the soul is so? For everything is inanimate which is\nmoved by an external force; but everything which is animate is moved by an\ninterior force, which also belongs to itself. For this is the peculiar\nnature and power of the soul; and if the soul be the only thing in the\nwhole world which has the power of self-motion, then certainly it never\nhad a beginning, and therefore it is eternal.\u201d\n\nNow, should all the lower order of philosophers, (for so I think they may\nbe called, who dissent from Plato and Socrates and that school,) unite\ntheir force, they never would be able to explain anything so elegantly as\nthis, nor even to understand how ingeniously this conclusion is drawn. The\nsoul, then, perceives itself to have motion, and at the same time that it\ngets that perception, it is sensible that it derives that motion from its\nown power, and not from the agency of another; and it is impossible that\nit should ever forsake itself; and these premises compel you to allow its\neternity, unless you have something to say against them.\n\n_A._ I should myself be very well pleased not to have even a thought arise\nin 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 that\nthere is something divine in the souls of men are not equally strong? but\nif I could account for the origin of these divine properties, then I might\nalso be able to explain how they might cease to exist; for I think I can\naccount for the manner in which the blood, and bile, and phlegm, and\nbones, and nerves, and veins, and all the limbs, and the shape of the\nwhole body, were put together and made; aye, and even as to the soul\nitself, were there nothing more in it than a principle of life, then the\nlife of a man might be put upon the same footing as that of a vine or any\nother tree, and accounted for as caused by nature; for these things, as we\nsay, live. Besides, if desires and aversions were all that belonged to the\nsoul, it would have them only in common with the beasts; but it has, in\nthe first place, memory, and that, too, so infinite, as to recollect an\nabsolute countless number of circumstances, which Plato will have to be a\nrecollection of a former life; for in that book which is inscribed Menon,\nSocrates asks a child some questions in geometry, with reference to\nmeasuring a square; his answers are such as a child would make, and yet\nthe questions are so easy, that while answering them, one by one, he comes\nto the same point as if he had learned geometry. From whence Socrates\nwould infer, that learning is nothing more than recollection; and this\ntopic he explains more accurately, in the discourse which he held the very\nday he died; for he there asserts that any one who seeming to be entirely\nilliterate, is yet able to answer a question well that is proposed to him,\ndoes in so doing manifestly show that he is not learning it then, but\nrecollecting it by his memory. Nor is it to be accounted for in any other\nway, how children come to have notions of so many and such important\nthings, as are implanted, and as it were sealed up in their minds, (which\nthe Greeks call \u1f14\u03bd\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03b1\u03b9,) unless the soul before it entered the body had\nbeen well stored with knowledge. And as it had no existence at all, (for\nthis is the invariable doctrine of Plato, who will not admit anything to\nhave a real existence which has a beginning and an end; and who thinks\nthat that alone does really exist which is of such a character as what he\ncalls \u03b5\u1f34\u03b4\u03b5\u03b1, and we species,) therefore, being shut up in the body, it\ncould not while in the body discover what it knows: but it knew it before,\nand brought the knowledge with it, so that we are no longer surprised at\nits extensive and multifarious knowledge: nor does the soul clearly\ndiscover its ideas at its first resort to this abode to which it is so\nunaccustomed, and which is in so disturbed a state; but after having\nrefreshed and recollected itself, it then by its memory recovers them;\nand, therefore, to learn implies nothing more than to recollect. But I am\nin a particular manner surprised at memory; for what is that faculty by\nwhich we remember? what is its force? what its nature? I am not inquiring\nhow great a memory Simonides(62) may be said to have had, or\nTheodectes,(63) or that Cineas,(64) who was sent to Rome as ambassador\nfrom Pyrrhus, or in more modern times Charmadas;(65) or very lately,\nMetrodorus,(66) the Scepsian, or our own contemporary Hortensius:(67) I am\nspeaking of ordinary memory, and especially of those men who are employed\nin any important study or art, the great capacity of whose minds it is\nhard to estimate, such numbers of 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 from\nthe heart, nor from the blood, nor from the brain, nor from atoms; whether\nit be air or fire, I know not, nor am I, as those men are, ashamed in\ncases where I am ignorant, to own that I am so. If in any other obscure\nmatter I were able to assert anything positively, then I would swear that\nthe soul, be it air or fire, is divine. Just think, I beseech you,\u2014can you\nimagine this wonderful power of memory to be sown in, or to be a part of\nthe composition of the earth, or of this dark and gloomy atmosphere?\nThough you cannot apprehend what it is, yet you see what kind of thing it\nis, or if you do not quite see that, yet you certainly see how great it\nis. What then? shall we imagine that there is a kind of measure in the\nsoul, into which, as into a vessel, all that we remember is poured? that\nindeed is absurd; for how shall we form any idea of the bottom, or of the\nshape or fashion of such a soul as that? and again how are we to conceive\nhow much it is able to contain? Shall we imagine the soul to receive\nimpressions like wax, and memory to be marks of the impressions made on\nthe soul? What are the characters of the words, what of the facts\nthemselves? and what again is that prodigious greatness which can give\nrise to impressions of so many things? What, lastly, is that power which\ninvestigates secret things, and is called invention and contrivance? Does\nthat man seem to be compounded of this earthly, mortal, and perishing\nnature, who first invented names for everything, which, if you will\nbelieve Pythagoras, is the highest pitch of wisdom? or he, who collected\nthe dispersed inhabitants of the world, and united them, in the bonds of\nsocial life? or he, who confined the sounds of the voice, which used to\nseem infinite, to the marks of a few letters? or he who first observed the\ncourses of the planets, their progressive motions, their laws? These were\nall great men; but they were greater still, who invented food, and\nraiment, and houses; who introduced civilization amongst us, and armed us\nagainst the wild beasts; by whom we were made sociable and polished, and\nso proceeded from the necessaries of life to its embellishments. For we\nhave provided great entertainments for the ears, by inventing and\nmodulating the variety and nature of sounds; we have learnt to survey the\nstars, not only those that are fixed, but also those which are improperly\ncalled wandering; and the man who has acquainted himself with all their\nrevolutions and motions, is fairly considered to have a soul resembling\nthe soul of that Being who has created those stars in the heavens: for\nwhen Archimedes described in a sphere the motions of the moon, sun, and\nfive planets, he did the very same thing as Plato\u2019s God, in his Tim\u00e6us,\nwho made the world; causing one revolution to adjust motions differing as\nmuch as possible in their slowness and velocity. Now, allowing that what\nwe see in the world could not be effected without a God, Archimedes could\nnot have imitated the same motions 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 that I\ndo not consider that a poet can produce a serious and sublime poem,\nwithout some divine impulse working on his mind; nor do I think that\neloquence, abounding with sonorous words and fruitful sentences, can flow\nthus, without something beyond mere human power. But as to philosophy,\nthat is the parent of all the arts, what can we call that but, as Plato\nsays, a gift, or as I express it, an invention of the Gods? This it was\nwhich first taught us the worship of the Gods; and then led us on to\njustice, which arises from the human race being formed into society: and\nafter that it imbued us with modesty, and elevation of soul. This it was\nwhich dispersed darkness from our souls, as it is dispelled from our eyes,\nenabling us to see all things that are above or below, the beginning, end,\nand middle of every thing. I am convinced entirely, that that which could\neffect so many and such great things must be a divine power. For what is\nmemory of words and circumstances? what, too, is invention? Surely they\nare things than which nothing greater can be conceived in a God! for I do\nnot imagine the Gods to be delighted with nectar and ambrosia, or with\nJuventas presenting them with a cup; nor do I put any faith in Homer, who\nsays that Ganymede was carried away by the Gods, on account of his beauty,\nin order 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 perfections\nof the Gods! those perfections, I mean, of uninterrupted health, wisdom,\ninvention, memory. Therefore the soul (which is, as I say, divine,) is, as\nEuripides more boldly expresses it, a God. And thus, if the divinity be\nair or fire, the soul of man is the same: for as that celestial nature has\nnothing earthly or humid about it, in like manner the soul of man is also\nfree from both these qualities: but if it is of that fifth kind of nature,\nfirst introduced by Aristotle, then both Gods and souls are of the same.\n\nXXVII. As this is my opinion, I have explained it in these very words, in\nmy book on Consolation.(68) The origin of the soul of man is not to be\nfound upon earth, for there is nothing in the soul of a mixed or concrete\nnature, or that has any appearance of being formed or made out of the\nearth; nothing even humid, or airy, or fiery: for what is there in natures\nof that kind which has the power of memory, understanding, or thought?\nwhich can recollect the past; foresee the future; and comprehend the\npresent? for these capabilities are confined to divine beings; nor can we\ndiscover any source from which men could derive them, but from God. There\nis therefore a peculiar nature and power in the soul, distinct from those\nnatures which are more known and familiar to us. Whatever, then, that is\nwhich thinks, and which has understanding, and volition, and a principle\nof life, is heavenly and divine, and on that account must necessarily be\neternal: nor can God himself, who is known to us, be conceived to be\nanything else except a soul free and unembarrassed, distinct from all\nmortal concretion, acquainted with everything, and giving motion to\neverything, and itself endued with perpetual motion.\n\nXXVIII. Of this kind and nature is the intellect of man. Where, then, is\nthis intellect seated, and of what character is it? where is your own, and\nwhat is its character? are you able to tell? If I have not faculties for\nknowing all that I could desire to know, will you not even allow me to\nmake use of those which I have? The soul has not sufficient capacity to\ncomprehend itself; yet, the soul, like the eye, though it has no distinct\nview of itself, sees other things: it does not see (which is of least\nconsequence) its own shape; perhaps not, though it possibly may; but we\nwill pass that by: but it certainly sees that it has vigour, sagacity,\nmemory, motion, and velocity; these are all great, divine, eternal\nproperties. What its appearance is, or where it dwells, it is not\nnecessary even to inquire. As when we behold, first of all, the beauty and\nbrilliant appearance of the heavens; secondly, the vast velocity of its\nrevolutions, beyond power of our imagination to conceive; then the\nvicissitudes of nights and days; the four-fold division of the seasons, so\nwell adapted to the ripening of the fruits of the earth, and the\ntemperature of our bodies; and after that we look up to the sun, the\nmoderator and governor of all these things; and view the moon, by the\nincrease and decrease of its light, marking, as it were, and appointing\nour holy days; and see the five planets, borne on in the same circle,\ndivided into twelve parts, preserving the same course with the greatest\nregularity, but with utterly dissimilar motions amongst themselves; and\nthe nightly appearance of the heaven, adorned on all sides with stars;\nthen, the globe of the earth, raised above the sea, and placed in the\ncentre of the universe, inhabited and cultivated in its two opposite\nextremities; one of which, the place of our habitation, is situated\ntowards the north pole, under the seven stars:\u2014\n\n\n    Where the cold northern blasts, with horrid sound,\n    Harden to ice the snowy cover\u2019d ground,\u2014\n\n\nthe other, towards the south pole, is unknown to us; but is called by the\nGreeks \u1f00\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1: the other parts are uncultivated, because they are\neither frozen with cold, or burnt up with heat; but where we dwell, it\nnever fails in its season,\n\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\u2019d corn to sing, whilst all around\n    Full riv\u2019lets glide; and flowers deck the ground:\u2014\n\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, made\nas it were on purpose to contemplate the heavens and the Gods, and to pay\nadoration to them; lastly, the whole earth, and wide extending seas, given\nto man\u2019s use. When we view these, and numberless other things, can we\ndoubt that they have some being who presides over them, or has made them\n(if, indeed, they have been made, as is the opinion of Plato, or if, as\nAristotle thinks, they are eternal), or who at all events is the regulator\nof so immense a fabric and so great a blessing to men? Thus, though you\nsee not the soul of man, as you see not the Deity, yet, as by the\ncontemplation of his works you are led to acknowledge a God, so you must\nown the divine power of the soul, from its remembering things, from its\ninvention, from the quickness of its motion, and from all the beauty of\nvirtue. Where, then, is it seated, you will say?\n\nXXIX. In my opinion it is seated in the head, and I can bring you reasons\nfor my adopting that opinion. At present, let the soul reside where it\nwill, you certainly have one in you. Should you ask what its nature is? It\nhas one peculiarly its own; but admitting it to consist of fire, or air,\nit does not affect the present question; only observe this, that as you\nare convinced there is a God, though you are ignorant where he resides,\nand what shape he is of; in like manner you ought to feel assured that you\nhave a soul, though you cannot satisfy yourself of the place of its\nresidence, nor its form. In our knowledge of the soul, unless we are\ngrossly ignorant of natural philosophy, we cannot but be satisfied that it\nhas nothing but what is simple, unmixed, uncompounded, and single; and if\nthis is admitted, then it cannot be separated, nor divided, nor dispersed,\nnor parted, and therefore it cannot perish; for to perish implies a\nparting asunder, a division, a disunion of those parts which, whilst it\nsubsisted, were held together by some band; and it was because he was\ninfluenced by these and similar reasons that Socrates neither looked out\nfor anybody to plead for him when he was accused, nor begged any favour\nfrom his judges, but maintained a manly freedom, which was the effect not\nof pride, but of the true greatness of his soul: and on the last day of\nhis life, he held a long discourse on this subject; and a few days before,\nwhen he might have been easily freed from his confinement, he refused to\nbe so, and when he had almost actually hold of that deadly cup, he spoke\nwith the air of a man not forced to die, but ascending into heaven.\n\nXXX. For so indeed he thought himself, and thus he spoke:\u2014\u201cThat there were\ntwo ways, and that the souls of men, at their departure from the body,\ntook different roads, for those which were polluted with vices, that are\ncommon to men, and which had given themselves up entirely to unclean\ndesires, and had become so blinded by them as to have habituated\nthemselves to all manner of debauchery and profligacy, or to have laid\ndetestable schemes for the ruin of their country, took a road wide of that\nwhich led to the assembly of the Gods: but they who had preserved\nthemselves upright and chaste, and free from the slightest contagion of\nthe body, and had always kept themselves as far as possible at a distance\nfrom it, and whilst on earth, had proposed to themselves as a model the\nlife of the Gods, found the return to those beings from whom they had come\nan easy one.\u201d Therefore he argues, that all good and wise men should take\nexample from the swans, who are considered sacred to Apollo, not without\nreason, but particularly because they seem to have received the gift of\ndivination from him, by which, foreseeing how happy it is to die, they\nleave this world with singing and joy. Nor can any one doubt of this,\nunless it happens to us who think with care and anxiety about the soul,\n(as is often the case with those who look earnestly at the setting sun,)\nto lose the sight of it entirely: and so the mind\u2019s eye viewing itself,\nsometimes grows dull, and for that reason we become remiss in our\ncontemplation. Thus our reasoning is borne about, harassed with doubts and\nanxieties, not knowing how to proceed, but measuring back again those\ndangerous tracts which it has passed, like a boat tossed about on the\nboundless ocean. But these reflections are of long standing, and borrowed\nfrom the Greeks. 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, and\nlately to Cato, and often to many others,\u2014in such a case, certainly every\nman of sense would gladly exchange this darkness, for that light: not that\nhe would forcibly break from the chains that held him, for that would be\nagainst the law; but like a man released from prison by a magistrate, or\nsome lawful authority, so he too would walk away, being released and\ndischarged by God. For the whole life of a philosopher is, as the same\nphilosopher 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 of\nthe body, or from duties of a public nature, or from all other serious\nbusiness whatever? What else is it, I say, that we do, but invite the soul\nto reflect on itself? oblige it to converse with itself, and, as far as\npossible, break off its acquaintance with the body? Now to separate the\nsoul from the body, is to learn to die, and nothing else whatever.\nWherefore take my advice; and let us meditate on this, and separate\nourselves as far as possible from the body, that is to say, let us\naccustom ourselves to die. This will be enjoying a life like that of\nheaven even while we remain on earth; and when we are carried thither and\nreleased from these bonds, our souls will make their progress with more\nrapidity: for the spirit which has always been fettered by the bonds of\nthe body, even when it is disengaged, advances more slowly, just as those\ndo who have worn actual fetters for many years: but when we have arrived\nat this emancipation from the bonds of the body, then indeed we shall\nbegin to live, for this present life is really death, which I could say a\ngood deal in lamentation for if I chose.\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 these\nthings: but that desire is increased a great deal by what I have just\nheard.\n\n_M._ The time will come, and that soon, and with equal certainty whether\nyou hang back or press forward; for time flies. But death is so far from\nbeing an evil, as it lately appeared to you, that I am inclined to\nsuspect, not that there is no other thing which is an evil to man, but\nrather that there is nothing else which is a real good to him; if, at\nleast, it is true, that we become thereby either Gods ourselves, or\ncompanions of the Gods. However, this is not of so much consequence, as\nthere are some of us here who will not allow this. But I will not leave\noff discussing this point till I have convinced you that death can, upon\nno 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, some\nhow or other, almost every man of letters; and, above all, my favourite\nDic\u00e6archus is very strenuous in opposing the immortality of the soul: for\nhe has written three books, which are entitled Lesbiacs, because the\ndiscourse was held at Mitylene, in which he seeks to prove that souls are\nmortal. The Stoics, on the other hand, allow us as long a time for\nenjoyment as the life of a raven; they allow the soul to exist a great\nwhile, but are against its eternity.\n\nXXXII. Are you willing to hear then why, even allowing this, death cannot\nbe an evil?\n\n_A._ As you please; but no one shall drive me from my belief in mortality.\n\n_M._ I commend you indeed, for that; though we should not be too confident\nin our belief of anything; for we are frequently disturbed by some subtle\nconclusion; we give way and change our opinions even in things that are\nmore evident than this; for in this there certainly is some obscurity.\nTherefore, should anything of this kind happen, it is well to be on our\nguard.\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 Stoics?\nthose, I mean, who allow that the souls exist after they have left the\nbody, but yet deny that they exist for ever.\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, that\na soul can exist independently of the body, and yet refuse to grant that,\nwhich is not only very easy to believe, but which is even the natural\nconsequence of the concession which they have made, that if they can exist\nfor a length of time, they most likely do so for ever.\n\n_M._ You take it right; that is the very thing: shall we give, therefore,\nany credit to Pan\u00e6tius, when he dissents from his master, Plato? whom he\neverywhere calls divine, the wisest, the holiest of men, the Homer of\nphilosophers; and whom he opposes in nothing except this single opinion of\nthe soul\u2019s immortality: for he maintains what nobody denies, that\neverything which has been generated will perish; and that even souls are\ngenerated, which he thinks appears from their resemblance to those of the\nmen who begot them; for that likeness is as apparent in the turn of their\nminds as in their bodies. But he brings another reason; that there is\nnothing which is sensible of pain which is not also liable to disease; but\nwhatever is liable to disease must be liable to death; the soul is\nsensible of pain, therefore it is liable 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 soul,\nhe is speaking of the intellect, which is free from all turbid motion; but\nnot of those parts of the mind in which those disorders, anger and lust,\nhave their seat, and which he whom he is opposing, when he argues thus,\nimagines to be distinct and separate from the mind. Now this resemblance\nis more remarkable in beasts, whose souls are void of reason. But the\nlikeness in men consists more in the configuration of the bodies; and it\nis of no little consequence in what bodies the soul is lodged; for there\nare many things which depend on the body that give an edge to the soul,\nmany which blunt it. Aristotle indeed, says, that all men of great genius\nare melancholy; so that I should not have been displeased to have been\nsomewhat duller than I am. He instances many, and, as if it were matter of\nfact, brings his reasons for it: but if the power of those things that\nproceed from the body be so great as to influence the mind, (for they are\nthe things, whatever they are, that occasion this likeness,) still that\ndoes not necessarily prove why a similitude of souls should be generated.\nI say nothing about cases of unlikeness. I wish Pan\u00e6tius could be here; he\nlived with Africanus; I would inquire of him which of his family the\nnephew of Africanus\u2019s brother was like? Possibly he may in person have\nresembled his father; but in his manners, he was so like every profligate\nabandoned man, that it was impossible to be more so. Who did the grandson\nof P. Crassus, that wise, and eloquent, and most distinguished man\nresemble? Or the relations and sons of many other excellent men, whose\nnames there is no occasion to mention? But what are we doing? Have we\nforgotten that our purpose was, when we had sufficiently spoken on the\nsubject of the immortality of the soul, to prove that, even if the soul\ndid perish, there would be, even then, no evil in death?\n\n_A._ I remembered it very well; but I had no dislike to your digressing a\nlittle from your original design, whilst you were talking of the soul\u2019s\nimmortality.\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 admit\nwhat they assert; that the soul does not continue to exist after death.\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 as\nthe body: is there any pain, or indeed any feeling at all in the body\nafter 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 that\nbe! Yet I think that it is false; and that it is very often unaccompanied\nby any sensation at all, and sometimes even attended with pleasure: but\ncertainly the whole must be very trifling, whatever it is, for it is\ninstantaneous. What makes us uneasy, or rather gives us pain, is the\nleaving all the good things of life. But just consider, if I might not\nmore properly say, leaving the evils of life; only there is no reason for\nmy now occupying myself in bewailing the life of man, and yet I might,\nwith very good reason; but what occasion is there, when what I am\nlabouring to prove is that no one is miserable after death, to make life\nmore miserable by lamenting over it? I have done that in the book which I\nwrote, in order to comfort myself as well as I could. If, then, our\ninquiry is after truth, death withdraws us from evil, not from good. This\nsubject is indeed so copiously handled by Hegesias, the Cyrenaic\nphilosopher, that he is said to have been forbid by Ptolemy from\ndelivering his lectures in the schools, because some who heard him made\naway with themselves. There is too, an epigram of Callimachus,(69) on\nCleombrotus of Ambracia; who, without any misfortune having befallen him,\nas he says, threw himself from a wall into the sea, after he had read a\nboot of Plato\u2019s. The book I mentioned of that Hegesias, is called\n\u1f08\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd, or \u201cA Man who starves himself,\u201d in which a man is represented\nas killing himself by starvation, till he is prevented by his friends, in\nreply to whom he reckons up all the miseries of human life: I might do the\nsame, though not so fully as he, who thinks it not worth any man\u2019s while\nto live. I pass over others. Was it even worth my while to live, for, had\nI died before I was deprived of the comforts of my own family, and of the\nhonours which I received for my public services, would not death have\ntaken me from the evils of life, rather 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 distinguished\nsons; but Priam had fifty, seventeen of which were born to him by his\nlawful wife: Fortune had the same power over both, though she exercised it\nbut on one: for Metellus was laid on his funeral pile by a great company\nof sons and daughters, grandsons, and grandaughters; but Priam fell by the\nhand of an enemy, after having fled to the altar, and having seen himself\ndeprived of all his numerous progeny. Had he died before the death of his\nsons and the ruin of his kingdom,\n\n\n    With all his mighty wealth elate,\n    Under rich canopies of state;\n\n\nwould he then have been taken from good or from evil? It would indeed, at\nthat time, have appeared that he was being taken away from good; yet\nsurely, it would have turned out advantageous for him; nor should we have\nhad these mournful verses,\u2014\n\n\n    Lo! these all perish\u2019d in one flaming pile;\n    The foe old Priam did of life beguile,\n    And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defile.\n\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, it\nwould 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(70) was something better: once, when he had been very ill at\nNaples, the Neapolitans on his recovery put crowns on their heads, as did\nthose of Puteoli; the people flocked from the country to congratulate\nhim;\u2014it is a Grecian custom, and a foolish one; still it is a sign of good\nfortune. But the question is, had he died, would he have been taken from\ngood, or from evil? Certainly from evil. He would not have been engaged in\na war with his father-in-law;(71) he would not have taken up arms before\nhe was prepared; he would not have left his own house, nor fled from\nItaly; he would not, after the loss of his army, have fallen unarmed into\nthe hands of slaves, and been put to death by them; his children would not\nhave been destroyed; nor would his whole fortune have come into the\npossession of the conquerors. Did not he, then, who, if he had died at\nthat time would have died in all his glory, owe all the great and terrible\nmisfortunes into which he subsequently fell to the prolongation of his\nlife at that time?\n\nXXXVI. These calamities are avoided by death, for even though they should\nnever happen, there is a possibility that they may; but it never occurs to\na man, that such a disaster may befal him himself. Every one hopes to be\nas happy as Metellus: as if the number of the happy exceeded that of the\nmiserable; or as if there were any certainty in human affairs; or again,\nas if there were more rational foundation for hope than fear. But should\nwe grant them even this, that men are by death deprived of good things,\nwould it follow that the dead are therefore in need of the good things of\nlife, and are miserable on that account? Certainly they must necessarily\nsay so. Can he who does not exist, be in need of anything? To be in need\nof, has a melancholy sound, because it in effect amounts to this,\u2014he had,\nbut he has not; he regrets, he looks back upon, he wants. Such are, I\nsuppose, the distresses of one who is in need of. Is he deprived of eyes?\nto be blind is misery. Is he destitute of children? not to have them is\nmisery. These considerations apply to the living, but the dead are neither\nin need of the blessings of life, nor of life itself. But when I am\nspeaking of the dead I am speaking of those who have no existence. But\nwould any one say of us, who do exist, that we want horns or wings?\nCertainly not. Should it be asked, why not? the answer would be, that not\nto have what neither custom nor nature has fitted you for, would not imply\na want of them, even though you were sensible that you had them not. This\nargument should be pressed over and over again, after that point has once\nbeen established, which if souls are mortal there can be no dispute\nabout\u2014I mean, that the destruction of them by death is so entire, as to\nremove even the least suspicion of any sense remaining. When, therefore,\nthis point is once well grounded and established, we must correctly define\nwhat the term, to want, means; that there may be no mistake in the word.\nTo want, then, signifies this; to be without that which you would be glad\nto have: for inclination for a thing is implied in the word want;\nexcepting when we use the word in an entirely different sense, as we do\nwhen we say that a fever is wanting to any one. For it admits of a\ndifferent interpretation, when you are without a certain thing, and are\nsensible that you are without it, but yet can easily dispense with having\nit. \u201cTo want,\u201d then, is an expression which you cannot apply to the dead,\nnor is the mere fact of wanting something necessarily lamentable. The\nproper expression ought to be, \u201cthat they want a good,\u201d and that is an\nevil.\n\nBut a living man does not want a good, unless he is distressed without it;\nand yet, we can easily understand how any man alive can be without a\nkingdom. But this cannot be predicated of you with any accuracy: it might\nhave been asserted of Tarquin, when he was driven from his kingdom: but\nwhen such an expression is used respecting the dead it is absolutely\nunintelligible. For to want, implies to be sensible; but the dead are\ninsensible; therefore the dead can be in no want.\n\nXXXVII. But what occasion is there to philosophize here, in a matter with\nwhich we see that philosophy is but little concerned? How often have not\nonly our generals, but whole armies, rushed on certain death! but if it\nhad been a thing to be feared, L. Brutus would never have fallen in fight,\nto prevent the return of that tyrant whom he had expelled; nor would\nDecius the father have been slain in fighting with the Latins; nor would\nhis son, when engaged with the Etruscans, nor his grandson with Pyrrhus,\nhave exposed themselves to the enemy\u2019s darts. Spain would never have seen,\nin one campaign, the Scipios fall fighting for their country; nor would\nthe plains of Cann\u00e6 have witnessed the death of Paulus and Geminus; or\nVenusia, that of Marcellus: nor would the Latins have beheld the death of\nAlbinus; nor the Lucanians, that of Gracchus. But are any of these\nmiserable now? nay, they were not so even at the first moment after they\nhad breathed their last: nor can any one be miserable after he has lost\nall sensation. Oh, but the mere circumstance of being without sensation is\nmiserable. It might be so if being without sensation were the same thing\nas wanting it; but as it is evident there can be nothing of any kind in\nthat which has no existence, what can there be afflicting to that which\ncan neither feel want, nor be sensible of anything? We might be said to\nhave repeated this over too often, only that here lies all that the soul\nshudders at, from the fear of death. For whoever can clearly apprehend\nthat which is as manifest as the light, that when both soul and body are\nconsumed, and there is a total destruction, then that which was an animal,\nbecomes nothing; will clearly see, that there is no difference between a\nHippocentaur, which never had existence, and king Agamemnon; and that M.\nCamillus is no more concerned about this present civil war, than I was at\nthe sacking of Rome, when he was living.\n\nXXXVIII. Why, then, should Camillus be affected with the thoughts of these\nthings happening three hundred and fifty years after his time? And why\nshould I be uneasy if I were to expect that some nation might possess\nitself of this city, ten thousand years hence? Because so great is our\nregard for our country, as not to be measured by our own feeling, but by\nits 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 not\ndeter a wise man from making such provision for his country and his\nfamily, as he hopes may last for ever; 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 his\nsoul is mortal; not, indeed, from a desire of glory, which he will be\ninsensible of, but from a principle of virtue, which glory will inevitably\nattend, though that is not his object. The process, indeed, of nature is\nthis; that just in the same manner as our birth was the beginning of\nthings with us, so death will be the end; and as we were no ways concerned\nwith anything before we were born, so neither shall we be after we are\ndead; and in this state of things where can the evil be? since death has\nno connexion with either the living or the dead; the one have no existence\nat all, the other are not yet affected by it. They who make the least of\ndeath consider it as having a great resemblance to sleep; as if any one\nwould choose to live ninety years on condition that, at the expiration of\nsixty, he should sleep out the remainder. The very swine would not accept\nof life on those terms, much less I: Endymion, indeed, if you listen to\nfables, slept once on a time, on Latmus, a mountain of Caria, and for such\na length of time that I imagine he is not as yet awake. Do you think that\nhe is concerned at the Moon\u2019s being in difficulties, though it was by her\nthat he was thrown 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 resemblance?\n\nXXXIX. Away, then, with those follies which are little better than the old\nwomen\u2019s dreams, such as that it is miserable to die before our time. What\ntime do you mean? That of nature? But she has only lent you life, as she\nmight lend you money, without fixing any certain time for its repayment.\nHave you any grounds of complaint, then, that she recals it at her\npleasure? for you received it on these terms. They that complain thus,\nallow, that if a young child dies the survivors ought to bear his loss\nwith equanimity; that if an infant in the cradle dies, they ought not even\nto utter a complaint; and yet nature has been more severe with them in\ndemanding back what she gave. They answer by saying, that such have not\ntasted the sweets of life; while the other had begun to conceive hopes of\ngreat happiness, and indeed had begun to realize them. Men judge better in\nother things, and allow a part to be preferable to none; why do they not\nadmit the same estimate in life? Though Callimachus does not speak amiss\nin saying, that more tears had flowed from Priam than his son; yet they\nare thought happier who die after they have reached old age. It would be\nhard to say why; for I do not apprehend that any one, if a longer life\nwere granted to him, would find it happier. There is nothing more\nagreeable to a man than prudence, which old age most certainly bestows on\na man, though it may strip him of everything else; but what age is long?\nor what is there at all long to a man? Does not\n\n\n    Old age, though unregarded, still attend\n    On childhood\u2019s pastimes, as the cares of men?\n\n\nBut because there is nothing beyond old age, we call that long; all these\nthings are said to be long or short, according to the proportion of time\nthey were given us for. Aristotle saith, there is a kind of insect near\nthe river Hypanis, which runs from a certain part of Europe into the\nPontus, whose life consists but of one day; those that die at the eighth\nhour, die in full age; those who die when the sun sets are very old,\nespecially when the days are at the longest. Compare our longest life with\neternity and we shall be found almost as short-lived as those little\nanimals.\n\nXL. Let us, then, despise all these follies\u2014for what softer name can I\ngive to such levities?\u2014and let us lay the foundation of our happiness in\nthe strength and greatness of our minds, in a contempt and disregard of\nall earthly things, and in the practice of every virtue. For at present we\nare enervated by the softness of our imaginations, so that, should we\nleave this world before the promises of our fortune-tellers are made good\nto us, we should think ourselves deprived of some great advantages, and\nseem disappointed and forlorn. But if, through life, we are in continual\nsuspense, still expecting, still desiring, and are in continual pain and\ntorture, good Gods! how pleasant must that journey be which ends in\nsecurity and ease! How pleased am I with Theramenes! of how exalted a soul\ndoes he appear! For, although we never read of him without tears, yet that\nillustrious man is not to be lamented in his death, who, when he had been\nimprisoned by the command of the thirty tyrants, drank off, at one\ndraught, as if he had been thirsty, the poisoned cup, and threw the\nremainder out of it with such force, that it sounded as it fell; and then,\non hearing the sound of the drops, he said, with a smile, \u201cI drink this to\nthe most excellent Critias,\u201d who had been his most bitter enemy; for it is\ncustomary among the Greeks, at their banquets, to name the person to whom\nthey intend to deliver the cup. This celebrated man was pleasant to the\nlast, even when he had received the poison into his bowels, and truly\nforetold the death of that man whom he named when he drank the poison, and\nthat death soon followed. Who that thinks death an evil, could approve of\nthe evenness 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 great\niniquity on the part of his judges as the tyrants displayed when they\nexecuted Theramenes. What a speech is that which Plato makes him deliver\nbefore his judges, after they had condemned him to death!\n\nXLI. \u201cI am not without hopes, O judges, that it is a favourable\ncircumstance for me that I am condemned to die; for one of these two\nthings must necessarily happen, either that death will deprive me entirely\nof all sense, or else, that by dying I shall go from hence into some other\nplace; wherefore, if all sense is utterly extinguished, and if death is\nlike that sleep which sometimes is so undisturbed as to be even without\nthe visions of dreams\u2014in that case, O ye good Gods! what gain is it to\ndie! or what length of days can be imagined which would be preferable to\nsuch a night? And if the constant course of future time is to resemble\nthat night, who is happier than I am? But if, on the other hand, what is\nsaid be true, namely, that death is but a removal to those regions where\nthe souls of the departed dwell, then that state must be more happy still,\nto have escaped from those who call themselves judges, and to appear\nbefore such as are truly so, Minos, Rhadamanthus, \u00c6acus, Triptolemus, and\nto meet with those who have lived with justice and probity!(72) Can this\nchange of abode appear otherwise than great to you? What bounds can you\nset to the value of conversing with Orpheus, and Mus\u00e6us, and Homer, and\nHesiod? I would even, were it possible, willingly die often, in order to\nprove the certainty of what I speak of. What delight must it be to meet\nwith Palamedes, and Ajax, and others, who have been betrayed by the\niniquity of their judges! Then, also, should I experience the wisdom of\neven that king of kings, who led his vast troops to Troy, and the prudence\nof Ulysses and Sisyphus: nor should I then be condemned for prosecuting my\ninquiries on such subjects in the same way in which I have done here on\nearth. And even you, my judges, you, I mean, who have voted for my\nacquittal, do not you fear death, for nothing bad can befal a good man,\nwhether he be alive or dead; nor are his concerns ever overlooked by the\nGods, nor 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 fact\nthat they believed that they were doing me harm.\u201d In this manner he\nproceeded: there is no part of his speech which I admire more than his\nlast words: \u201cBut it is time,\u201d says he, \u201cfor me now to go hence, that I may\ndie; and for you, that you may continue to live. Which condition of the\ntwo is the best, the immortal Gods know; but I do not believe that any\nmortal man does.\u201d\n\nXLII. Surely I would rather have had this man\u2019s 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 knows, namely, whether life or death\nis most preferable, he knows himself, for he had previously stated his\nopinion on it; but he maintained to the last that favourite maxim of his,\nof affirming nothing. And let us, too, adhere to this rule of not thinking\nanything an evil, which is a general provision of nature: and let us\nassure ourselves, that if death is an evil, it is an eternal evil, for\ndeath seems to be the end of a miserable life; but if death is a misery,\nthere can be no end of that. But why do I mention Socrates, or Theramenes,\nmen distinguished by the glory of virtue and wisdom? when a certain\nLaced\u00e6monian, whose name is not so much as known, held death in such\ncontempt, that, when led to it by the ephori, he bore a cheerful and\npleasant countenance; and, when he was asked by one of his enemies whether\nhe despised the laws of Lycurgus? \u201cOn the contrary,\u201d answered he, \u201cI am\ngreatly obliged to him, for he has amerced me in a fine which I can pay\nwithout borrowing, or taking up money at interest.\u201d This was a man worthy\nof Sparta! and I am almost persuaded of his innocence because of the\ngreatness of his soul. Our own city has produced many such. But why should\nI name generals, and other men of high rank, when Cato could write, that\nlegions have marched with alacrity to that place from whence they never\nexpected to return? With no less greatness of soul fell the Laced\u00e6monians\nat Thermopyl\u00e6, on whom Simonides wrote the following epitaph:\u2014\n\n\n    Go, stranger, tell the Spartans, here we lie,\n    Who to support their laws durst boldly die.(73)\n\n\nWhat was it that Leonidas, their general, said to them? \u201cMarch on with\ncourage, my Laced\u00e6monians; to-night, perhaps, we shall sup in the regions\nbelow.\u201d This was a brave nation whilst the laws of Lycurgus were in force.\nOne of them, when a Persian had said to him in conversation, \u201cWe shall\nhide the sun from your sight by the number of our arrows and darts;\u201d\nreplied, \u201cWe shall fight then in the shade.\u201d Do I talk of their men? how\ngreat was that Laced\u00e6monian woman, who had sent her son to battle, and\nwhen she heard that he was slain, said, \u201cI bore him for that purpose, that\nyou might have a man who durst die for his country.\u201d However, it is a\nmatter of notoriety that the Spartans were bold and hardy, for the\ndiscipline of a republic has great influence.\n\nXLIII. What, then, have we not reason to admire Theodorus the Cyrenean, a\nphilosopher of no small distinction? who, when Lysimachus threatened to\ncrucify him, bade him keep those menaces for his courtiers: \u201cto Theodorus\nit makes no difference whether he rot in the air or under ground.\u201d By\nwhich saying of the philosopher I am reminded to say something of the\ncustom of funerals and sepulture, and of funeral ceremonies, which is,\nindeed, not a difficult subject, especially if we recollect what has been\nbefore said about insensibility. The opinion of Socrates respecting this\nmatter is clearly stated in the book which treats of his death; or which\nwe have already said so much; for when he had discussed the immortality of\nthe soul, and when the time of his dying was approaching rapidly, being\nasked by Criton how he would be buried, \u201cI have taken a great deal of\npains,\" saith he, \"my friends, to no purpose, for I have not convinced our\nCriton, that I shall fly from hence, and leave no part of me behind:\nnotwithstanding, Criton, if you can overtake me, wheresoever you get hold\nof me, bury me as you please: but believe me, none of you will be able to\ncatch me when I have flown away from hence.\u201d That was excellently said,\ninasmuch as he allows his friend to do as he pleased, and yet shows his\nindifference about anything of this kind. Diogenes was rougher, though of\nthe same opinion, but in his character of a Cynic, he expressed himself in\na somewhat harsher manner; he ordered himself to be thrown anywhere\nwithout being buried. And when his friends replied, \u201cWhat, to the birds\nand beasts?\u201d \u201cBy no means,\u201d saith he; \u201cplace my staff near me, that I may\ndrive them away.\u201d \u201cHow can you do that,\u201d they answer, \u201cfor you will not\nperceive them?\u201d \u201cHow am I then injured by being torn by those animals, if\nI have no sensation?\u201d Anaxagoras, when he was at the point of death, at\nLampsacus, and was asked by his friends, whether, if anything should\nhappen to him, he would not choose to be carried to Clazomen\u00e6, his\ncountry, made this excellent answer,\u2014\u201cThere is,\u201d says he, \u201cno occasion for\nthat, for all places are at an equal distance from the infernal regions.\u201d\nThere is one thing to be observed with respect to the whole subject of\nburial, that it relates to the body, whether the soul live or die. Now\nwith regard to the body, it is clear that whether the soul live or die,\nthat 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\u2014\n\n\n    I saw (a dreadful sight!) great Hector slain,\n    Dragg\u2019d at Achilles\u2019 car along the plain.\n\n\nWhat Hector? or how long will he be Hector? Accius is better in this, and\nAchilles, too, is sometimes reasonable\u2014\n\n\n    I Hector\u2019s body to his sire convey\u2019d,\n    Hector I sent to the infernal shade.\n\n\nIt was not Hector that you dragged along, but a body that had been\nHector\u2019s. Here another starts from underground, and will not suffer his\nmother to sleep\u2014\n\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\u2014arise,\n    Ling\u2019ring I wait the unpaid obsequies.\n\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 those\nunhappy that are unburied\u2014\n\n\n    Ere the devouring dogs and hungry vultures ...\n\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\u2014\n\n\n    Nor leave my naked bones, my poor remains,\n    To shameful violence, and bloody stains.\n\n\nI do not understand what he could fear who could pour forth such excellent\nverses to the sound of the flute. We must, therefore, adhere to this, that\nnothing is to be regarded after we are dead, though many people revenge\nthemselves on their dead enemies. Thyestes pours forth several curses in\nsome good lines of Ennius, praying, first of all, that Atreus may perish\nby a shipwreck, which is certainly a very terrible thing, for such a death\nis not free from very grievous sensations. Then follow these unmeaning\nexpressions:\u2014\n\n\n                May\n    On the sharp rock his mangled carcase 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\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; but\nas he is not, it can be none; then how very unmeaning is this!\n\n\n    Let him, still hovering o\u2019er the Stygian wave,\n    Ne\u2019er reach the body\u2019s peaceful port, the grave.\n\n\nYou see under what mistaken notions all this is said. He imagines the body\nhas its haven, and that the dead are at rest in their graves. Pelops was\ngreatly to blame in not having informed and taught his son what regard was\ndue 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 of\nerrors? The Egyptians embalm their dead, and keep them in their houses;\nthe Persians dress them over with wax, and then bury them, that they may\npreserve their bodies as long as possible. It is customary with the Magi,\nto bury none of their order, unless they have been first torn by wild\nbeasts. In Hyrcania, the people maintain dogs for the public use, the\nnobles have their own; and we know that they have a good breed of dogs;\nbut every one, according to his ability, provides himself with some, in\norder to be torn by them; and they hold that to be the best kind of\ninterment. Chrysippus, who is curious in all kinds of historical facts,\nhas collected many other things of this kind, but some of them are so\noffensive as not to admit of being related. All that has been said of\nburying, is not worth our regard with respect to ourselves, though it is\nnot to be neglected as to our friends, provided we are thoroughly aware\nthat the dead are insensible; but the living, indeed, should consider what\nis due to custom and opinion, only they should at the same time consider\nthat the dead are no ways interested in it. But death truly is then met\nwith the greatest tranquillity, when the dying man can comfort himself\nwith his own praise. No one dies too soon who has finished the course of\nperfect virtue. I myself have known many occasions when I have seemed in\ndanger of immediate death; oh! how I wish it had come to me, for I have\ngained nothing by the delay. I had gone over and over again the duties of\nlife; nothing remained but to contend with fortune. If reason, then,\ncannot sufficiently fortify us to enable us to feel a contempt for death,\nat all events, let our past life prove that we have lived long enough, and\neven longer than was necessary; for notwithstanding the deprivation of\nsense, the dead are not without that good which peculiarly belongs to\nthem, namely, the praise and glory which they have acquired, even though\nthey are not sensible of it. For although there be nothing in glory to\nmake it desirable, yet it follows virtue as its shadow. And the genuine\njudgment of the multitude on good men, if ever they form any, is more to\ntheir own praise, than of any real advantage to the dead; yet I cannot\nsay, however it may be received, that Lycurgus and Solon have no glory\nfrom 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 B\u0153otian Leuetra shall\nperish, sooner than the glory of that great battle. And longer still shall\nfame be before it deserts Curius, and Fabricius, and Calatinus, and the\ntwo Scipios, and the two Africani, and Maximus, and Marcellus, and Paulus,\nand Cato, and L\u00e6lius, and numberless other heroes; and whoever has caught\nany resemblance of them, not estimating it by common fame, but by the real\napplause of good men, may with confidence, when the occasion requires,\napproach death, on which we are sure that even if the chief good is not\ncontinued, at least no evil is. Such a man would even wish to die, whilst\nin prosperity; for all the favours that could be heaped on him, would not\nbe so agreeable to him, as the loss of them would be painful. That speech\nof the Laced\u00e6monian seems to have the same meaning, who, when Diagoras the\nRhodian, who had himself been a conqueror at the Olympic games, saw two of\nhis own sons conquerors there on the same day, approached the old man, and\ncongratulating him, said, \u201cYou should die now, Diagoras, for no greater\nhappiness can possibly await you.\u201d The Greeks look on these as great\nthings; perhaps they think too highly of them, or rather they did so then.\nAnd so he who said this to Diagoras, looking on it as something very\nglorious, that three men out of one family should have been conquerors\nthere, thought it could answer no purpose to him, to continue any longer\nin life, 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 any\npositive evil; but I have spoken at greater length on the subject for this\nreason, because this is our greatest consolation in the losing and\nbewailing of our friends. For we ought to bear with moderation any grief\nwhich arises from ourselves, or is endured on our own account, lest we\nshould seem to be too much influenced by self-love. But should we suspect\nour departed friends to be under those evils, which they are generally\nimagined to be and to be sensible of them, then such a suspicion would\ngive us intolerable pain; and accordingly I wished, for my own sake, to\npluck up this opinion by the roots, and on that account I have been\nperhaps somewhat more prolix than was necessary.\n\nXLVII. _A._ More prolix than was necessary? certainly not, in my opinion.\nFor I was induced by the former part of your speech, to wish to die; but,\nby the latter, sometimes not to be unwilling, and at others to be wholly\nindifferent about it. But the effect of your whole argument is, that I am\nconvinced that death ought not to be classed among the evils.\n\n_M._ Do you, then, expect that I am to give you a regular peroration, like\nthe 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 such\nadvantage; and you were in the right to do so, for, to speak the truth, it\nalso has set you off. But what is that peroration? for I should be glad to\nhear 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 mention,\nsons of the Argive priestess; the story is a well-known one. As it was\nnecessary that she should be drawn in a chariot to a certain annual\nsacrifice, which was solemnized at a temple some considerable distance\nfrom the town, and the cattle that were to draw the chariot had not\narrived, those two young men whom I have just mentioned, pulling off their\ngarments, and anointing their bodies with oil, harnessed themselves to the\nyoke. And in this manner the priestess was conveyed to the temple; and\nwhen the chariot had arrived at the proper place, she is said to have\nentreated the goddess to bestow on them, as a reward for their piety, the\ngreatest gift that a God could confer on man. And the young men, after\nhaving feasted with their mother, fell asleep; and in the morning they\nwere found dead. Trophonius and Agamedes are said to have put up the same\npetition, for they having built a temple to Apollo at Delphi, offered\nsupplications to the god, and desired of him some extraordinary reward for\ntheir care and labour, particularizing nothing, but asking for whatever\nwas best for men. Accordingly, Apollo signified to them that he would\nbestow it on them in three days, and on the third day at daybreak they\nwere found dead. And so they say that this was a formal decision\npronounced by that god, to whom the rest of the deities have assigned the\nprovince of divining with an accuracy superior to that of all the rest.\n\nXLVIII. There is also a story told of Silenus, who, when taken prisoner by\nMidas, is said to have made him this present for his ransom; namely, that\nhe informed him(74) that never to have been born, was by far the greatest\nblessing that could happen to man; and that the next best thing was, to\ndie very soon; which very opinion Euripides makes use of in his\nCresphontes, saying,\u2014\n\n\n    When man is born, \u2019tis 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\u2019s bid to die.(75)\n\n\nThere is something like this in Crantor\u2019s Consolation; for he says, that\nTerin\u00e6us of Elysia, when he was bitterly lamenting the loss of his son,\ncame to a place of divination to be informed why he was visited with so\ngreat affliction, and received in his tablet these three verses,\u2014\n\n\n    Thou fool, to murmur at Euthynous\u2019 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.(76)\n\n\nOn these and similar authorities they affirm that the question has been\ndetermined by the Gods. Nay more; Alcidamas, an ancient rhetorician of the\nvery highest reputation, wrote even in praise of death, which he\nendeavoured to establish by an enumeration of the evils of life; and his\nDissertation has a great deal of eloquence in it, but he was unacquainted\nwith the more refined arguments of the philosophers. By the orators,\nindeed, to die for our country is always considered not only as glorious,\nbut even as happy; they go back as far as Erechtheus,(77) whose very\ndaughters underwent death, for the safety of their fellow-citizens: they\ninstance Codrus, who threw himself into the midst of his enemies, dressed\nlike a common man, that his royal robes might not betray him; because the\noracle had declared the Athenians conquerors, if their king was slain.\nMen\u0153ceus(78) is not overlooked by them, who, in compliance with the\ninjunctions of an oracle, freely shed his blood for his country. Iphigenia\nordered herself to be conveyed to Aulis, to be sacrificed, that her blood\nmight be the cause of spilling that of her enemies.\n\nXLIX. From hence they proceed to instances of a fresher date. Harmodius\nand Aristogiton are in everybody\u2019s mouth; the memory of Leonidas the\nLaced\u00e6monian, and Epaminondas the Theban, is as fresh as ever. Those\nphilosophers were not acquainted with the many instances in our country\u2014to\ngive a list of whom would take up too much time\u2014who, we see, considered\ndeath desirable as long as it was accompanied with honour. But,\nnotwithstanding this is the correct view of the case, we must use much\npersuasion, speak as if we were endued with some higher authority, in\norder to bring men to begin to wish to die, or cease to be afraid of\ndeath. For if that last day does not occasion an entire extinction, but a\nchange of abode only, what can be more desirable? and if it on the other\nhand destroys, and absolutely puts an end to us, what can be preferable to\nthe having a deep sleep fall on us, in the midst of the fatigues of life,\nand being thus overtaken, to sleep to eternity? And, should this really be\nthe case, then Ennius\u2019s language is more consistent with wisdom than\nSolon\u2019s; for our Ennius says\u2014\n\n\n    Let none bestow upon my passing bier\n    One needless sigh or unavailing tear.\n\n\nBut the wise Solon says\u2014\n\n\n    Let me not unlamented die, but o\u2019er my bier\n    Burst forth the tender sigh, the friendly tear.(79)\n\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 delivered\nfrom a jail, and released from their fetters, for the purpose of going\nback to our eternal habitation, which may be more emphatically called our\nown; or else to be divested of all sense and trouble. If, on the other\nhand, we should have no notice given us of this decree, yet let us\ncultivate such a disposition as to look on that formidable hour of death\nas happy for us, though shocking to our friends; and let us never imagine\nanything to be an evil, which is an appointment of the immortal Gods, or\nof nature, the common parent of all. For it is not by hazard or without\ndesign that we have been born and situated as we have. On the contrary,\nbeyond all doubt there is a certain power, which consults the happiness of\nhuman nature; and this would neither have produced nor provided for a\nbeing, which after having gone through the labours of life was to fall\ninto eternal misery by death. Let us rather infer, that we have a retreat\nand haven prepared for us, which I wish we could crowd all sail and arrive\nat; but though the winds should not serve, and we should be driven back,\nyet we shall to a certainty arrive at that point eventually, though\nsomewhat later. But how can that be miserable for one which all must of\nnecessity undergo? I have given you a peroration, that you might not think\nI had overlooked or neglected anything.\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 our\nhealth; to-morrow, and all the time we continue in this Tusculan villa,\nlet us consider this subject; and especially those portions of it which\nmay ease our pain, alleviate our fears, and lessen our desires, which is\nthe greatest advantage we can reap from the whole of philosophy.\n\n\n\n\nBook II. On Bearing Pain.\n\n\nI. Neoptolemus, in Ennius, indeed, says, that the study of philosophy was\nexpedient for him; but that it required limiting to a few subjects, for\nthat to give himself up entirely to it, was what he did not approve of.\nAnd for my part, Brutus, I am perfectly persuaded that it is expedient for\nme to philosophize; for what can I do better, especially as I have no\nregular occupation? but I am not for limiting my philosophy to a few\nsubjects, as he does; for philosophy is a matter in which it is difficult\nto acquire a little knowledge without acquainting yourself with many, or\nall its branches, nor can you well take a few subjects without selecting\nthem out of a great number; nor can any one, who has acquired the\nknowledge of a few points, avoid endeavouring with the same eagerness to\nunderstand more. But still, in a busy life, and in one mainly occupied\nwith military matters, such as that of Neoptolemus was at that time, even\nthat limited degree of acquaintance with philosophy may be of great use,\nand may yield fruit, not perhaps so plentiful as a thorough knowledge of\nthe whole of philosophy, but yet such as in some degree may at times\ndeliver us from the dominion of our desires, our sorrows, and our fears;\njust as the effect of that discussion which we lately maintained in my\nTusculan villa seemed to be, that a great contempt of death was\nengendered; which contempt is of no small efficacy towards delivering the\nmind from fear; for whoever dreads what cannot be avoided, can by no means\nlive with a quiet and tranquil mind. But he who is under no fear of death,\nnot only because it is a thing absolutely inevitable, but also because he\nis persuaded that death itself hath nothing terrible in it, provides\nhimself with a very great resource towards a happy life. However, I am not\nignorant, that many will argue strenuously against us; and, indeed, that\nis a thing which can never be avoided, except by abstaining from writing\nat all. 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 are\ninclined to withhold their praise from every thing but what they are\npersuaded they can attain to themselves, and who limit their ideas of good\nspeaking by the hopes which they conceive of what they themselves may\nattain to, and who declare, when they are overwhelmed with a flow of words\nand sentences, that they prefer the utmost poverty of thought and\nexpression to that plenty and copiousness; (from which arose the Attic\nkind of oratory, which they who professed it were strangers to, though\nthey have now been some time silenced, and laughed out of the very courts\nof justice;) what may I not expect, when at present I cannot have the\nleast countenance from the people, by whom I used to be upheld before? For\nphilosophy is satisfied with a few judges, and of her own accord\nindustriously avoids the multitude, who are jealous of it, and utterly\ndispleased with it; so that, should any one undertake to cry down the\nwhole of it, he would have the people on his side; while, if he should\nattack that school which I particularly profess, he would have great\nassistance 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 favour of the Academics, is, I think,\nexplained with sufficient accuracy in my four books of the Academic\nQuestion.\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 strength\nwhich it acquired from the contentions and disputations of the most\nlearned men; and therefore I recommend all men who have abilities to\nfollow my advice, to snatch this art also from declining Greece, and to\ntransport it to this city; as our ancestors by their study and industry\nhave imported all their other arts, which were worth having. Thus the\npraise of oratory, raised from a low degree, is arrived at such\nperfection, that it must now decline, and, as is the nature of all things,\nverge to its dissolution in a very short time. Let philosophy then derive\nits birth in Latin language from this time, and let us lend it our\nassistance, and bear patiently to be contradicted and refuted; and\nalthough those men may dislike such treatment who are bound and devoted to\ncertain predetermined opinions, and are under such obligations to maintain\nthem that they are forced, for the sake of consistency, to adhere to them\neven though they do not themselves wholly approve of them; we, on the\nother hand, who pursue only probabilities, and who cannot go beyond that\nwhich seems really likely, can confute others without obstinacy, and are\nprepared to be confuted ourselves without resentment. Besides, if these\nstudies are ever brought home to us, we shall not want even Greek\nlibraries, in which there is an infinite number of books, by reason of the\nmultitude of authors among them;\u2014for it is a common practice with many to\nrepeat the same things which have been written by others, which serves no\npurpose, but to stuff their shelves: and this will be our case, too, if\nmany apply 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 with\nreason 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 because\nthe authors themselves declare that they write without any regularity, or\nmethod, or elegance, or ornament, I do not care to read what must be so\nvoid of entertainment. There is no one in the least acquainted with\nliterature, who does not know the style and sentiments of that school;\nwherefore, since they are at no pains to express themselves well, I do not\nsee why they should be read by anybody except by one another: let them\nread them, if they please, who are of the same opinions: for in the same\nmanner as all men read Plato, and the other Socratics, with those who\nsprung from them, even those who do not agree with their opinions, or are\nvery indifferent about them; but scarcely any one except their own\ndisciples, take Epicurus, or Metrodorus, into their hands; so they alone\nread these Latin books, who think that the arguments contained in them are\nsound. But, in my opinion, whatever is published, should be recommended to\nthe reading of every man of learning; and though we may not succeed in\nthis ourselves, yet nevertheless we must be sensible that this ought to be\nthe aim of every writer. And on this account I have always been pleased\nwith the custom of the Peripatetics, and Academics, of disputing on both\nsides of the question; not solely from its being the only method of\ndiscovering what is probable on every subject, but also because it affords\nthe greatest scope for practising eloquence; a method that Aristotle first\nmade use of, and afterward all the Aristotelians; and in our own memory\nPhilo, whom we have often heard, appointed one time to treat of the\nprecepts of the rhetoricians, and another for philosophical discussion, to\nwhich custom I was brought to conform by my friends at my Tusculum; and\naccordingly our leisure time was spent in this manner. And therefore, as\nyesterday 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 in\nalmost the very same words which were employed in the debate.\n\nIV. The discourse, then, was introduced in this manner, whilst 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 have\nconsidered that there would be an end to this life, and that I must some\ntime or other part with all its good things, a certain dread and\nuneasiness used to intrude itself on my thoughts; but now, believe me, I\nam so freed from that kind of uneasiness, that there is nothing that I\nthink 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 groundless\napprehensions, frees us from desires, and drives away fears: but it has\nnot the same influence over all men; it is of very great influence when it\nfalls in with a disposition well adapted to it. For not only does Fortune,\nas the old proverb says, assist the bold, but reason does so in a still\ngreater degree; for it, by certain precepts, as it were, strengthens even\ncourage itself. You were born naturally great and soaring, and with a\ncontempt for all things which pertain to man alone; therefore a discourse\nagainst death took easy possession of a brave soul. But do you imagine\nthat these same arguments have any force with those very persons who have\ninvented, and canvassed, and published them, excepting indeed some very\nfew particular persons? For how few philosophers will you meet with, whose\nlife and manners are conformable to the dictates of reason! who look on\ntheir profession, not as a means of displaying their learning, but as a\nrule for their own practice! who follow their own precepts, and comply\nwith, their own decrees! You may see some of such levity, and such vanity,\nthat it would have been better for them to have been ignorant; some\ncovetous of money, some others eager for glory, many slaves to their\nlusts; so that their discourses and their actions are most strangely at\nvariance; than which nothing in my opinion can be more unbecoming: for\njust as if one who professed to teach grammar, should speak with\nimpropriety; or a master of music sing out of tune; such conduct has the\nworse appearance in these men, because they blunder in the very particular\nwith which they profess that they are well acquainted: so a philosopher,\nwho errs in the conduct of his life, is the more infamous, because he is\nerring in the very thing which he pretends to teach, and whilst he lays\ndown rules 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 colours? 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 are\ncultivated are not fruitful, (and this sentiment of Accius is false, and\nasserted without any foundation,\n\n\n    The ground you sow on, is of small avail;\n    To yield a crop good seed can never fail:)\n\n\nit is not every mind which has been properly cultivated that produces\nfruit;\u2014and to go on with the comparison, as a field, although it may be\nnaturally fruitful cannot produce a crop, without dressing, so neither can\nthe mind, without education; such is the weakness of either without the\nother. Whereas philosophy is the culture of the mind: this it is which\nplucks up vices by the roots; prepares the mind for the receiving of\nseeds, commits them to it, or, as I may say, sows them, in the hope that,\nwhen come to maturity, they may produce a plentiful harvest. Let us\nproceed, then, as we begun; say, if you please, what shall be the subject\nof 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 in\nit; for what is so unbecoming\u2014what can appear worse to you, than disgrace,\nwickedness, immorality? To avoid which, what pain is there which we ought\nnot (I will not say to avoid shirking, but even) of our own accord to\nencounter, and undergo, and even to court?\n\n_A._ I am entirely of that opinion; but notwithstanding that pain is not\nthe greatest evil, yet surely it is an evil.\n\n_M._ Do you perceive, then, how much of the terror of pain you have given\nup 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 endeavour 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 offer\nany obstacles.\n\n_A._ You shall have such: for as I behaved yesterday, so now I will follow\nreason wherever she leads.\n\nVI. _M._ First, then, I will speak of the weakness of many philosophers,\nand those too of various sects; the head of whom, both in authority and\nantiquity, was Aristippus, the pupil of Socrates, who hesitated not to\nsay, that pain was the greatest of all evils. And after him Epicurus\neasily gave into this effeminate and enervated doctrine. After him\nHieronymus, the Rhodian, said, that to be without pain was the chief good,\nso great an evil did pain appear to him to be. The rest, with the\nexceptions of Zeno, Aristo, Pyrrho, were pretty much of the same opinion\nthat you were of just now, that it was indeed an evil, but that there were\nmany worse. When then nature herself and a certain generous feeling of\nvirtue at once prevents you from persisting in the assertion that pain is\nthe chief evil, and when you were driven from such an opinion when\ndisgrace was contrasted with pain, shall philosophy, the preceptress of\nlife, cling to this idea for so many ages? What duty of life, what praise,\nwhat reputation would be of such consequence that a man should be desirous\nof gaining it at the expense of submitting to bodily pain, when he has\npersuaded himself that pain is the greatest evil? On the other side, what\ndisgrace, what ignominy, would he not submit to, that he might avoid pain,\nwhen persuaded that it was the greatest of evils? Besides, what person, if\nit be only true that pain is the greatest of evils, is not miserable, not\nonly when he actually feels pain, but also whenever he is aware that it\nmay befal him? And who is there whom pain may not befal? so that it is\nclear that there is absolutely no one who can possibly be happy.\nMetrodorus, indeed, thinks that man perfectly happy, whose body is free\nfrom all disorders, and who has an assurance that it will always continue\nso; but who is there who can be assured of that?\n\nVII. But Epicurus, indeed, says such things that it should seem that his\ndesign was only to make people laugh; for he affirms somewhere, that if a\nwise man were to be burned, or put to the torture,\u2014you expect, perhaps,\nthat he is going to say he would bear it, he would support himself under\nit with resolution! he would not yield to it, and that, by Hercules! would\nhe very commendable, and worthy of that very Hercules whom I have just\ninvoked: but even this will not satisfy Epicurus, that robust and hardy\nman! No; his wise man, even if he were in Phalaris\u2019s bull, would say, How\nsweet it is! how little do I regard it! What sweet? is it not sufficient,\nif it is not disagreeable? But those very men who deny pain to be an evil,\nare not in the habit of saying that it is agreeable to any one to be\ntormented; they rather say, that it is cruel, or hard to bear, afflicting,\nunnatural, but still not an evil: while this man who says that it is the\nonly evil, and the very worst of all evils, yet thinks that a wise man\nwould pronounce it sweet. I do not require of you to speak of pain in the\nsame words which Epicurus uses\u2014a man, as you know, devoted to pleasure: he\nmay make no difference, if he pleases, between Phalaris\u2019s bull, and his\nown bed: but I cannot allow the wise man to be so indifferent about pain.\nIf he bears it with courage, it is sufficient; that he should rejoice in\nit, I 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 \u0152ta: the arrows with which Hercules\npresented him, were then no consolation to him, when\n\n\n    The viper\u2019s bite, impregnating his veins\n    With poison, rack\u2019d him with its bitter pains.\n\n\nAnd therefore he cries out, desiring help, and wishing to die,\n\n\n    Oh! that some friendly hand its aid would lend,\n    My body from this rock\u2019s vast height to send\n    Into the briny deep! I\u2019m all on fire,\n    And by this fatal wound must soon expire.\n\n\nIt is hard to say that the man who was obliged to cry out in this manner,\nwas not oppressed with evil, and great evil too.\n\nVIII. But let us observe Hercules himself, who was subdued by pain at the\nvery time when he was on the point of attaining immortality by death. What\nwords does Sophocles here put in his mouth, in his Trachini\u00e6? who, when\nDeianira had put upon him a tunic dyed in the centaur\u2019s blood, and it\nstuck to his entrails, says,\n\n\n    What tortures I endure no words can tell,\n    Far greater these, than those which erst befel\n    From the dire terror of thy consort, Jove;\n    E\u2019en stern Eurystheus\u2019 dire command above;\n    This of thy daughter, \u0152neus, is the fruit,\n    Beguiling me with her envenom\u2019d 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, whilst my fatal doom\n    Proceeds ignobly from the weaver\u2019s loom.\n    The hand of foe ne\u2019er hurt me, nor the fierce\n    Giant issuing from his parent earth.\n    Ne\u2019er 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\u2019s art.\n\n    IX. Assist, my son, if thou that name dost hear,\n    My groans preferring to thy mother\u2019s tear;\n    Convey her here, if, in thy pious heart,\n    Thy mother shares not an unequal part:\n    Proceed, be bold, thy father\u2019s fate bemoan,\n    Nations will join, you will not weep alone.\n    O what a sight is this same briny source,\n    Unknown before, through all my labours\u2019 course!\n    That virtue, which could brave each toil but late,\n    With woman\u2019s weakness now bewails its fate.\n    Approach, my son; behold thy father laid,\n    A wither\u2019d carcase 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    Crest-fallen, unembraced I now let fall\n    Listless, those hands that lately conquer\u2019d all;\n    When the Nem\u00e6an lion own\u2019d 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\u2019en 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\u2019s mine to say, I never knew disgrace.(80)\n\n\nCan we, then, despise pain, when we see Hercules himself giving vent to\nhis expressions of agony with such impatience?\n\nIX. Let us see what \u00c6schylus 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 for\nthe Lemnian theft, when he clandestinely stole away the celestial fire,\nand bestowed it on men, and was severely punished by Jupiter for the\ntheft. Fastened to mount Caucasus, he speaks thus:\n\n\n    Thou heav\u2019n-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\u2019s dread decree the god of fire\n    Confines me here the victim of Jove\u2019s ire.\n    With baneful art his dire machine he shapes;\n    From such a god what mortal e\u2019er escapes?\n    When each third day shall triumph o\u2019er the night,\n    Then doth the vulture, with his talons light,\n    Seize on my entrails; which, in rav\u2019nous 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\u2019 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.(81)\n\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; and,\nin the meanwhile, whence are those verses? I do not remember them.\n\n_M._ I will inform you, for you are in the right to ask. Do you see that I\nhave 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 very\neloquent, 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 kind\nof elderly declamation, I have been very fond of quoting our poets, and\nwhere I cannot be supplied from them, I translate from the Greek, that the\nLatin language may not want any kind of ornament in this kind of\ndisputation.\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, and\nthey are besides so entertaining, that we do not only read them, but get\nthem by heart. Thus the influence of the poets is added to our want of\ndiscipline at home, and our tender and delicate manner of living, so that\nbetween them they have deprived virtue of all its vigour and energy. Plato\ntherefore was right in banishing them from his commonwealth, where he\nrequired the best morals, and the best form of government. But we, who\nhave all our learning from Greece, read and learn these works of theirs\nfrom our childhood; and look on this as a liberal and learned education.\n\nXII. But why are we angry with the poets? we may find some philosophers,\nthose masters of virtue, who have taught that pain was the greatest of\nevils. But you, young man, when you said but just now that it appeared so\nto you, upon being asked by me what appeared greater than infamy, gave up\nthat opinion at a word. Suppose I ask Epicurus the same question. He will\nanswer, that a trifling degree of pain is a greater evil than the greatest\ninfamy; for that there is no evil in infamy itself, unless attended with\npain. What pain then attends Epicurus, when he says this very thing, that\npain is the greatest 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. And\nif 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 infer\nfrom some petty quibbling arguments, that it is no evil, as if the dispute\nwas about a word, and not about the thing itself. Why do you impose upon\nme, Zeno? for when you deny what appears very dreadful to me to be an\nevil; I am deceived, and am at a loss to know why that which appears to me\nto be a most miserable thing, should be no evil. The answer is, that\nnothing is an evil but what is base and vicious. You return to your\ntrifling, for you do not remove what made me uneasy. I know that pain is\nnot vice,\u2014you need not inform me of that: but show me, that it makes no\ndifference to me whether I am in pain or not. It has never anything to do,\nsay you, with a happy life, for that depends upon virtue alone; but yet\npain is to be avoided. If I ask, why? it is disagreeable, against nature,\nhard 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 of\nremoving it, when you say, it is disagreeable, unnatural, scarcely\npossible to be endured or borne: nor are you wrong in saying so; but the\nman 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.\u2014This argument is a better one, and has more truth in it, that all\nthings which nature abhors are to be looked upon as evil; that those which\nshe approves of, are to be considered as good: for when this is admitted,\nand the dispute about words removed, that which they with reason embrace,\nand which we call honest, right, becoming, and sometimes include under the\ngeneral name of virtue, appears so far superior to everything else, that\nall other things which are looked upon as the gifts of fortune, or the\ngood things of the body, seem trifling and insignificant: and no evil\nwhatever, nor all the collective body of evils together, appears to be\ncompared to the evil of infamy. Wherefore, if, as you granted in the\nbeginning, infamy is worse than pain, pain is certainly nothing; for while\nit appears to you base and unmanly to groan, cry out, lament, or faint\nunder pain\u2014while you cherish notions of probity, dignity, honour, and\nkeeping your eye on them, refrain yourself\u2014pain will certainly yield to\nvirtue, and by the influence of imagination, will lose its whole\nforce.\u2014For you must either admit that there is no such thing as virtue, or\nyou must despise every kind of pain. Will you allow of such a virtue as\nprudence, without which no virtue whatever can even be conceived? What\nthen? will that suffer you to labour 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? Will\nyou 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 groveling,\ndejected, and deploring your condition, with a lamentable voice; no one\nwould call you even a man, while in such a condition: you must therefore\neither abandon all pretensions to courage, or else pain must be put out of\nthe 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 you\nlose one virtue (though virtue in reality cannot be lost), still if, I\nsay, you should acknowledge that you were deficient in one, you would be\nstripped of all. Can you, then, call yourself a brave man, of a great\nsoul, endued with patience and steadiness above the frowns of fortune? or\nPhiloctetes? for I choose to instance him, rather than yourself, for he\ncertainly was not a brave man, who lay in his bed, which was watered with\nhis tears,\n\n\n    Whose groans, bewailings, and whose bitter cries,\n    With grief incessant rent the very skies.\n\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 be\nsuch a thing as patience: if there be no such thing, why do we speak so in\npraise of philosophy? or why do we glory in its name? Does pain annoy us?\nlet it sting us to the heart: if you are without defensive armour, bare\nyour throat to it; but if you are secured by Vulcanian armour, that is to\nsay by resolution, resist it; should you fail to do so, that guardian of\nyour honour, your courage, will forsake and leave you.\u2014By the laws of\nLycurgus, and by those which were given to the Cretans by Jupiter, or\nwhich Minos established under the direction of Jupiter, as the poets say,\nthe youths of the state are trained by the practice of hunting, running,\nenduring hunger and thirst, cold and heat. The boys at Sparta are scourged\nso at the altars, that blood follows the lash in abundance, nay,\nsometimes, as I used to hear when I was there, they are whipped even to\ndeath; and yet not one of them was ever heard to cry out, or so much as\ngroan. What then? shall men not be able to bear what boys do? and shall\ncustom have such great force, and reason none at all?\n\nXV. There is some difference betwixt labour and pain; they border upon one\nanother, but still there is a certain difference between them. Labour is a\ncertain exercise of the mind or body, in some employment or undertaking of\nserious trouble and importance; but pain is a sharp motion in the body,\ndisagreeable to our senses.\u2014Both these feelings, the Greeks, whose\nlanguage is more copious than ours, express by the common name of \u03a0\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2;\ntherefore they call industrious men, pains-taking, or rather fond of\nlabour; we, more conveniently, call them laborious; for labouring is one\nthing and enduring pain another. You see, O Greece, your barrenness of\nwords, sometimes, though you think you are always so rich in them. I say,\nthen, that there is a difference betwixt labouring and being in pain. When\nCaius Marius had an operation performed for a swelling in his thigh, he\nfelt pain; when he headed his troops in a very hot season, he laboured.\nYet these two feelings bear some resemblance to one another; for the\naccustoming ourselves to labour makes the endurance of pain more easy to\nus.\u2014And it was because they were influenced by this reason, that the\nfounders of the Grecian form of government provided that the bodies of\ntheir youth should be strengthened by labour, which custom the Spartans\ntransferred even to their women, who in other cities lived more\ndelicately, keeping within the walls of their houses, but it was otherwise\nwith the Spartans.\n\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\n\nAnd in these laborious exercises pain interferes sometimes; they are\nthrown down, receive blows, have bad falls, and are bruised, and the\nlabour 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 anap\u00e6st;) you may see in the\nfirst place whence the very name of an army (Exercitus)(82) is derived;\nand secondly, how great the labour is of an army on its march; then\nconsider that they carry more than a fortnight\u2019s provision, and whatever\nelse they may want: that they carry the burthen of the stakes,(83) for as\nto shield, sword, or helmet, they look on them as no more encumbrance than\ntheir own limbs, for they say that arms are the limbs of a soldier, and\nthose indeed they carry so commodiously, that when there is occasion they\nthrow down their burdens, and use their arms as readily as their limbs.\nWhy need I mention the exercises of the legions? and how great the labour\nis which is undergone in the running, encounters, shouts! Hence it is,\nthat their minds are worked up to make so light of wounds in action. Take\na soldier of equal bravery, but undisciplined, and he will seem a woman.\nWhy is it that there is this sensible difference betwixt a raw recruit and\na veteran soldier? The age of the young soldiers is for the most part in\ntheir favour, but it is practice only that enables men to bear labour, and\ndespise wounds. Moreover, we often see, when the wounded are carried off\nthe field, the raw untried soldier, though but slightly wounded, cries out\nmost shamefully; but the more brave experienced veteran only inquires for\nsome one to dress his wounds, and says,\n\n\n    Patroclus, to thy aid I must appeal\n    Ere worse ensue, my bleeding wounds to heal;\n    The sons of \u00c6sculapius are employ\u2019d,\n    No room for me, so many are annoy\u2019d.\n\n\nXVII. This is certainly Eurypylus himself. What an experienced man!\u2014Whilst\nhis friend is continually enlarging on his misfortunes, you may observe\nthat he is so far from weeping, that he even assigns a reason why he\nshould bear his wounds with patience.\n\n\n    Who at his enemy a stroke directs,\n    His sword to light upon himself expects.\n\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 inquires\nhow the battle went.\n\n\n    Say how the Argives bear themselves in fight?\u2014\n\n\nAnd yet no words can show the truth as well as those, your deeds and\nvisible sufferings.\n\n\n    Peace! and my wounds bind up;\n\n\nbut though Eurypylus could bear these afflictions, \u00c6sopus could not,\n\n\n    Where Hector\u2019s fortune press\u2019d our yielding troops;\n\n\nand he explains the rest, though in pain; so unbounded is military glory\nin a brave man! Shall, then, a veteran soldier be able to behave in this\nmanner, and shall a wise and learned man not be able? Surely the latter\nmight be able to bear pain better, and in no small degree either: at\npresent, how ever, I am confining myself to what is engendered practice\nand discipline. I am not yet come to speak of reason and philosophy. You\nmay often hear of old women living without victuals for three or four\ndays: but take away a wrestler\u2019s provisions but for one day, and he will\nimplore the aid of Jupiter Olympius, the very God for whom he exercises\nhimself: he will cry out that he cannot endure it. Great is the force of\ncustom! Sportsmen will continue whole nights in the snow: they will bear\nbeing almost frozen upon the mountains. From practice boxers will not so\nmuch as utter a groan, however bruised by the cestus. But what do you\nthink of those to whom a victory in the Olympic games seemed almost on a\npar with the ancient consulships of the Roman people? What wounds will the\ngladiators bear, who are either barbarians, or the very dregs of mankind!\nHow do they, who are trained to it, prefer being wounded to basely\navoiding it! How often do they prove that they consider nothing but the\ngiving satisfaction to their masters or to the people! for when covered\nwith wounds, 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 die?\nwho that had been defeated ever drew in his neck to avoid the stroke of\ndeath? So great is the force of practice, deliberation, and custom! Shall\nthis, then, be done by\n\n\n    A Samnite rascal, worthy of his trade;\n\n\nand shall a man born to glory have so soft a part in his soul as not to be\nable to fortify it by reason and reflection? The sight of the gladiators\u2019\ncombats is by some looked on as cruel and inhuman, and I do not know, as\nit is at present managed, but it may be so; but when the guilty fought, we\nmight receive by our ears perhaps (but certainly by our eyes we could not)\nbetter training to harden us against pain and death.\n\nXVIII. I have now said enough about the effects of exercise, custom, and\ncareful meditation; proceed we now to consider the force of reason, unless\nyou 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 endeavour\nto show by some strained and trifling conclusions, which are nothing to\nthe purpose, that pain is no evil. My opinion is, that whatever it is, it\nis not so great as it appears; and I say, that men are influenced to a\ngreat extent by some false representations and appearance of it, and that\nall which is really felt is capable of being endured. Where shall I begin,\nthen? shall I superficially go over what I said before, that my discourse\nmay have a greater scope?\n\nThis, then, is agreed upon by all, and not only by learned men, but also\nby the unlearned, that it becomes the brave and magnanimous, those that\nhave patience and a spirit above this world, not to give way to pain. Nor\nhas there ever been any one who did not commend a man who bore it in this\nmanner. That, then, which is expected from a brave man, and is commended\nwhen it is seen, it must surely be base in any one to be afraid of at its\napproach, or not to bear when it comes. But I would have you consider\nwhether, as all the right affections of the soul are classed under the\nname of virtues, the truth is that this is not properly the name of them\nall, but that they all have their name from that leading virtue which is\nsuperior to all the rest: for the name, \u201cvirtue,\u201d comes from _vir_, a man,\nand courage is the peculiar distinction of a man: and this virtue has two\nprincipal duties, to despise death and pain. We must, then, exert these,\nif we would be men of virtue, or rather, if we would be men, because\nvirtue (_virtus_) takes its very name from _vir_, man.\n\nXIX. You may inquire, perhaps, how? and such an inquiry is not amiss, for\nphilosophy is ready with her assistance. Epicurus offers himself to you, a\nman far from a bad, or, I should rather say, a very good man; he advises\nno more than he knows. \u201cDespise pain,\u201d says he. Who is it saith this? Is\nit the same man who calls pain the greatest of all evils? It is not,\nindeed, very consistent in him. Let us hear what he says:\u2014\u201cIf the pain is\nexcessive it must needs be short.\u201d I must have that over again, for I do\nnot apprehend what you mean exactly by \u201cexcessive\u201d or \u201cshort.\u201d That is\nexcessive, than which nothing can be greater; that is short, than which\nnothing is shorter. I do not regard the greatness of any pain from which,\nby reason of the shortness of its continuance, I shall be delivered almost\nbefore it reaches me. But, if the pain be as great as that of Philoctetes,\nit will appear great indeed to me, but yet not the greatest that I am\ncapable of bearing; for the pain is confined to my foot: but my eye may\npain me, I may have a pain in the head, or sides, or lungs, or in every\npart of me. It is far, then, from being excessive; therefore, says he,\npain of a long continuance has more pleasure in it than uneasiness. Now I\ncannot bring myself to say so great a man talks nonsense; but I imagine he\nis laughing at us. My opinion is that the greatest pain (I say the\ngreatest, though it may be ten atoms less than another) is not therefore\nshort, because acute; I could name to you a great many good men who have\nbeen tormented many years with the acutest pains of the gout. But this\ncautious man doth not determine the measure of that greatness or of\nduration, so as to enable us to know what he calls excessive, with regard\nto pain, or short, with respect to its continuance. Let us pass him by,\nthen, as one who says just nothing at all; and let us force him to\nacknowledge, notwithstanding he might behave himself somewhat boldly under\nhis cholic and his strangury, that no remedy against pain can be had from\nhim who looks on pain as the greatest of all evils. We must apply, then,\nfor relief elsewhere, and nowhere better (if we seek for what is most\nconsistent with itself) than to those who place the chief good in honesty,\nand the greatest evil in infamy. You dare not so much as groan, or\ndiscover the least uneasiness in their company, for virtue itself speaks\nto you through them.\n\nXX. Will you, when you may observe children at Laced\u00e6mon, and young men at\nOlympia, and barbarians in the amphitheatre, receive the severest wounds,\nand bear them without once opening their mouths,\u2014will you, I say, if any\npain should by chance attack you, cry out like a woman? will you not\nrather bear it with resolution and constancy? and not cry, It is\nintolerable, nature cannot bear it. I hear what you say,\u2014Boys bear this\nbecause they are led thereto by glory: some bear it through shame, many\nthrough fear, and yet are we afraid that nature cannot bear what is borne\nby many, and in such different circumstances? Nature not only bears it,\nbut challenges it, for there is nothing with her preferable, nothing which\nshe desires more, than credit, and reputation, and praise, and honour, and\nglory. I choose here to describe this one thing under many names, and I\nhave used many that you may have the clearer idea of it; for what I mean\nto say is, that whatever is desirable of itself, proceeding from virtue,\nor placed in virtue, and commendable on its own account, (which I would\nrather agree to call the only good than deny it to be the chief good,) is\nwhat men should prefer above all things. And as we declare this to be the\ncase with respect to honesty, so we speak in the contrary manner of\ninfamy; nothing is so odious, so detestable, nothing so unworthy of a man:\nand if you are thoroughly convinced of this (for, at the beginning of this\ndiscourse, you allowed that there appeared to you more evil in infamy than\nin pain), it follows that you ought to have the command over yourself,\nthough I scarcely know how this expression may seem an accurate one, which\nappears to represent man as made up of two natures, so that one should be\nin command and the other be subject to it.\n\nXXI. Yet this division does not proceed from ignorance; for the soul\nadmits of a two-fold division, one of which partakes of reason, the other\nis without it; when, therefore, we are ordered to give a law to ourselves,\nthe meaning is, that reason should restrain our rashness. There is in the\nsoul of every man, something naturally soft, low, enervated in a manner,\nand languid. Were there nothing besides this, men would be the greatest of\nmonsters; but there is present to every man reason, which presides over,\nand gives laws to all; which, by improving itself, and making continual\nadvances, becomes perfect virtue. It behoves a man, then, to take care\nthat reason shall have the command over that part which is bound to\npractise obedience. In what manner? you will say. Why, as a master has\nover his slave, a general over his army, a father over his son. If that\npart of the soul which I have called soft behaves disgracefully, if it\ngives itself up to lamentations and womanish tears, then let it be\nrestrained, and committed to the care of friends and relations, for we\noften see those persons brought to order by shame, whom no reasons can\ninfluence. Therefore, we should confine those feelings, like our servants,\nin safe custody, and almost with chains. But those who have more\nresolution, and yet are not utterly immovable, we should encourage with\nour exhortations, as we would good soldiers, to recollect themselves, and\nmaintain their honour. That wisest man of all Greece, in the Niptr\u00e6, does\nnot lament too much over his wounds, or rather, he is moderate in his\ngrief:\u2014\n\n\n    Move slow, my friends, your hasty speed refrain,\n    Lest by your motion you increase my pain.\n\n\nPacuvius is better in this than Sophocles, for in the one Ulysses bemoans\nhis wounds too vehemently; for the very people who carried him after he\nwas wounded, though his grief was moderate, yet, considering the dignity\nof the man, did not scruple to say,\n\n\n    And thou, Ulysses, long to war inured,\n    Thy wounds, though great, too feebly hast endured.\n\n\nThe wise poet understood that custom was no contemptible instructor how to\nbear pain. But the same hero complains with more decency, though in great\npain,\u2014\n\n\n    Assist, support me, never leave me so;\n    Unbind my wounds, oh! execrable woe!\n\n\nHe begins to give way, but instantly checks himself:\u2014\n\n\n    Away, begone, but cover first the sore;\n    For your rude hands but make my pains the more.\n\n\nDo you observe how he constrains himself; not that his bodily pains were\nless, but because he checks the anguish of his mind? Therefore, in the\nconclusion of the Niptr\u00e6, he blames others, even when he himself is\ndying:\u2014\n\n\n    Complaints of fortune may become the man,\n    None but a woman will thus weeping stand.\n\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, indeed,\nwe have never as yet seen, but the philosophers have described in their\nwritings what sort of man he will be, if he should exist); such a man, or\nat least that perfect and absolute reason which exists in him, will have\nthe same authority over the inferior part as a good parent has over his\ndutiful children, he will bring it to obey his nod, without any trouble or\ndifficulty. He will rouse himself, prepare and arm himself to oppose pain\nas he would an enemy. If you inquire what arms he will provide himself\nwith, they will be contention, encouragement, discourse with himself; he\nwill say thus to himself, Take care that you are guilty of nothing base,\nlanguid, or unmanly. He will turn over in his mind all the different kinds\nof honour. Zeno of Elea will occur to him, who suffered everything rather\nthan betray his confederates in the design of putting an end to the\ntyranny. He will reflect on Anaxarchus, the pupil of Democritus, who\nhaving fallen into the hands of Nicocreon king of Cyprus, without the\nleast entreaty for mercy, or refusal, submitted to every kind of torture.\nCalanus the Indian will occur to him, an ignorant man and a barbarian,\nborn at the foot of Mount Caucasus, who committed himself to the flames by\nhis own free, voluntary act. But we, if we have the tooth-ache, or a pain\nin the foot, or if the body be any ways 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 sting\nof a bee without crying out. But Caius Marius, a plain country-man, but of\na manly soul, when he had an operation performed on him, as I mentioned\nabove, at first refused to be tied down; and he is the first instance of\nany one\u2019s having had an operation performed on him without being tied\ndown. Why, then, did others bear it afterwards? Why, from the force of\nexample. You see, then, that pain exists more in opinion than in nature,\nand yet the same Marius gave a proof that there is something very sharp in\npain, for he would not submit to have the other thigh cut. So that he bore\nhis pain with resolution as a man; but, like a reasonable person, he was\nnot willing to undergo any greater pain without some necessary reason. The\nwhole, then, consists in this, that you should have command over yourself.\nI have already told you what kind of command this is; and by considering\nwhat is most consistent with patience, fortitude, and greatness of soul, a\nman not only restrains himself, but somehow or other mitigates even pain\nitself.\n\nXXIII. Even as in a battle, the dastardly and timorous soldier throws away\nhis shield on the first appearance of an enemy, and runs as fast as he\ncan, and on that account loses his life sometimes, though he has never\nreceived even one wound, when he who stands his ground has nothing of the\nsort happen to him; so, they who cannot bear the appearances of pain,\nthrow themselves away, and give themselves up to affliction and dismay;\nbut they that oppose it, often come off more than a match for it. For the\nbody has a certain resemblance to the soul: as burdens are more easily\nborne the more the body is exerted, while they crush us if we give way; so\nthe soul by exerting itself resists the whole weight that would oppress\nit; but if it yields, it is so pressed, that it cannot support itself. And\nif we consider things truly, the soul should exert itself in every\npursuit, for that is the only security for its doing its duty. But this\nshould be principally regarded in pain, that we must not do anything\ntimidly, or dastardly, or basely, or slavishly, or effeminately, and above\nall things we must dismiss and avoid that Philoctetean sort of outcry. A\nman is allowed sometimes to groan, but yet seldom; but it is not\npermissible even in a woman to howl; for such a noise as this is\nforbidden, by the twelve tables, to be used even at funerals. Nor does a\nwise or brave man ever groan, unless when he exerts himself to give his\nresolution greater force, as they who run in the stadium make as much\nnoise as they can. The wrestlers, too, do the same when they are training;\nand the 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 satisfied\nwith working their jaws, sides, or tongue, or stretching the common organs\nof speech and utterance? the whole body and every muscle is at full\nstretch, if I may be allowed the expression, every nerve is exerted to\nassist their voice. I have actually seen the knees of Marcus Antonius\ntouch the ground when he was speaking with vehemence for himself, with\nrelation to the Varian law. For as the engines you throw stones or darts\nwith, throw them out with the greater force the more they are strained and\ndrawn back; so it is in speaking, running, or boxing, the more people\nstrain themselves, the greater their force. Since, therefore, this\nexertion has so much influence\u2014if in a moment of pain groans help to\nstrengthen the mind, let us use them; but if they be groans of\nlamentation, if they be the expression of weakness or abjectness, or\nunmanly weeping, then I should scarcely call him a man who yielded to\nthem. For even supposing that such groaning could give any ease, it still\nshould be considered, whether it were consistent with a brave and resolute\nman. But, if it does not ease our pain, why should we debase ourselves to\nno purpose? for what is more unbecoming in a man than to cry like a woman?\nBut this precept which is laid down with respect to pain is not confined\nto it; we should apply this exertion of the soul to everything else. Is\nanger inflamed? is lust excited? we must have recourse to the same\ncitadel, and apply to the same arms; but since it is pain which we are at\npresent discussing, we will let the other subjects alone. To bear pain,\nthen, sedately and calmly, it is of great use to consider with all our\nsoul, as the saying is, how noble it is to do so, for we are naturally\ndesirous (as I said before, but it cannot be too often repeated) and very\nmuch inclined to what is honourable, of which, if we discover but the\nleast glimpse, there is nothing which we are not prepared to undergo and\nsuffer to attain it. From this impulse of our minds, this desire for\ngenuine glory and honourable conduct, it is that such dangers are\nsupported in war, and that brave men are not sensible of their wounds in\naction, or if they are sensible of them, prefer death to the departing but\nthe least step from their honour. The Decii saw the shining swords of\ntheir enemies when they were rushing into the battle. But the honourable\ncharacter and the glory of the death which they were seeking, made all\nfear of death of little weight. Do you imagine that Epaminondas groaned\nwhen he perceived that his life was flowing out with his blood? No; for he\nleft his country triumphing over the Laced\u00e6monians, whereas he had found\nit in 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 of\nno resolution, having learned fortitude of Zeno, quitted it on being in\npain; 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 why\nhe had changed his opinion, he answered, \u201cThat the case of any man who had\napplied so much time to philosophy, and yet was unable to bear pain, might\nbe a sufficient proof that pain is an evil. That he himself had spent many\nyears at philosophy, and yet could not bear pain. It followed, therefore,\nthat pain was an evil.\u201d It is reported that Cleanthes on that struck his\nfoot on the ground, and repeated a verse out of the Epigon\u00e6\u2014\n\n\n    Amphiaraus, hear\u2019st thou this below?\n\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 he\ncame to Rhodes, after his departure from Syria, he had a great desire to\nhear Posidonius, but was informed that he was very ill of a severe fit of\nthe gout; yet he had great inclination to pay a visit to so famous a\nphilosopher. Accordingly, when he had seen him, and paid his compliments,\nand had spoken with great respect of him, he said he was very sorry that\nhe could not hear him lecture. But indeed you may, replied the other, nor\nwill I suffer any bodily pain to occasion so great a man to visit me in\nvain. On this Pompey relates that, as he lay on his bed, he disputed with\ngreat dignity and fluency on this very subject\u2014That nothing was good but\nwhat was honest; and that in his paroxysms he would often say, \u201cPain, it\nis to no purpose, notwithstanding you are troublesome, I will never\nacknowledge you an evil.\u201d And in general all celebrated and notorious\nafflictions become endurable 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 esteemed,\nthey who practise these arts decline no pain. What shall I say of our own\nambitious pursuits, or desire of honours? What fire have not candidates\nrun through to gain a single vote? Therefore Africanus had always in his\nhands Xenophon, the pupil of Socrates, being particularly pleased with his\nsaying, that the same labours were not equally heavy to the general and to\nthe common man, because the honour itself made the labour lighter to the\ngeneral. But yet, so it happens, that even with the illiterate vulgar, an\nidea of honour is of great influence, though they cannot understand what\nit is. They are led by report and common opinion to look on that as\nhonourable, which has the general voice. Not that I would have you, should\nthe multitude be ever so fond of you, rely on their judgment, nor approve\nof everything which they think right; you must use your own judgment. If\nyou are satisfied with yourself when you have approved of what is right,\nyou will not only have the mastery over yourself, (which I recommend to\nyou just now,) but over everybody, and everything. Lay this down, then, as\na rule, that a great capacity, and lofty elevation of soul, which\ndistinguishes itself most by despising and looking down with contempt on\npain, is the most excellent of all things, and the more so, if it does not\ndepend on the people, and does not aim at applause, but derives its\nsatisfaction from itself. Besides, to me indeed everything seems the more\ncommendable the less the people are courted, and the fewer eyes there are\nto see it. Not that you should avoid the public, for every generous action\nloves the public view; yet no theatre for virtue is equal to a\nconsciousness of it.\n\nXXVII. And let this be principally considered, that this bearing of pain,\nwhich I have often said is to be strengthened by an exertion of the soul,\nshould be the same in everything. For you meet with many who, through a\ndesire of victory, or for glory, or to maintain their rights, or their\nliberty, have boldly received wounds, and borne themselves up under them;\nand yet those very same persons, by relaxing that intenseness of their\nminds, were unequal to bearing the pain of a disease. For they did not\nsupport themselves under their former sufferings by reason or philosophy,\nbut by inclination and glory. Therefore some barbarians and savage people\nare able to fight very stoutly with the sword, but cannot bear sickness\nlike men: but the Grecians, men of no great courage, but as wise as human\nnature will admit of, cannot look an enemy in the face, yet the same will\nbear to be visited with sickness tolerably, and with a sufficiently manly\nspirit; and the Cimbrians and Celtiberians are very alert in battle, but\nbemoan themselves in sickness; for nothing can be consistent which has not\nreason for its foundation. But when you see those who are led by\ninclination or opinion, not retarded by pain in their pursuits, nor\nhindered by it from succeeding in them, you may conclude, either that pain\nis no evil, or that, notwithstanding you may choose to call an evil\nwhatever 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 and\nday; for this argument will spread itself, and take up more room sometime\nor other, and not be confined to pain alone; for if the motives to all our\nactions are to avoid disgrace and acquire honour, we may not only despise\nthe stings of pain, but the storms of fortune, especially if we have\nrecourse to that retreat which was pointed out in our yesterday\u2019s\ndiscussion: for as, if some God had advised a man who was pursued by\npirates to throw himself overboard, saying, There is something at hand to\nreceive you; either a dolphin will take you up, as it did Arion of\nMethymna; or those horses sent by Neptune to Pelops (who are said to have\ncarried chariots so rapidly as to be borne up by the waves) will receive\nyou, and convey you wherever you please; cast away all fear: so, though\nyour pains be ever so sharp and disagreeable, if the case is not such that\nit is worth your while to endure them, you see whither you may betake\nyourself. I think this will do for the present. But perhaps you still\nabide by your opinion.\n\n_A._ Not in the least, indeed; and I hope I am freed by these two days\u2019\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 must not\ndrop 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\nBook III. On 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 sought\nafter, and the invention of it, as being so useful, should be ascribed to\nthe immortal Gods; but the medicine of the mind should not have been so\nmuch the object of inquiry, whilst it was unknown, nor so much attended to\nand cultivated after its discovery, nor so well received or approved of by\nsome, and accounted actually disagreeable, and looked upon with an envious\neye by many? Is it because we, by means of the mind, judge of the pains\nand disorders of the body, but do not, by means of the body, arrive at any\nperception of the disorders of the mind? Hence it comes that the mind only\njudges of itself, when that very faculty by which it is judged is in a bad\nstate. Had nature given us faculties for discerning and viewing herself,\nand could we go through life by keeping our eye on her\u2014our best\nguide\u2014there would be no reason certainly why any one should be in want of\nphilosophy or learning: but, as it is, she has furnished us only with some\nfeeble rays of light, which we immediately extinguish so completely by\nevil habits and erroneous opinions, that the light of nature is nowhere\nvisible. The seeds of virtues are natural to our constitutions, and, were\nthey suffered to come to maturity, would naturally conduct us to a happy\nlife; but now, as soon as we are born and received into the world, we are\ninstantly familiarized with all kinds of depravity and perversity of\nopinions; so that we may be said almost to suck in error with our nurse\u2019s\nmilk. When we return to our parents, and are put into the hands of tutors\nand governors, we are imbued with so many errors, that truth gives place\nto falsehood, and nature herself to established opinion.\n\nII. To these we may add the poets; who, on account of the appearance they\nexhibit of learning and wisdom, are heard, read, and got by heart, and\nmake a deep impression on our minds. But when to these are added the\npeople, 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 nature;\nso that they seem to deprive us of our best guide, who have decided that\nthere is nothing better for man, nothing more worthy of being desired by\nhim, nothing more excellent than honours and commands, and a high\nreputation with the people; which indeed every excellent man aims at; but\nwhilst he pursues that only true honour, which nature has in view above\nall other objects, he finds himself busied in arrant trifles, and in\npursuit of no conspicuous form of virtue, but only some shadowy\nrepresentation of glory. For glory is a real and express substance, not a\nmere shadow. It consists in the united praise of good men, the free voice\nof those who form a true judgment of preeminent virtue; it is, as it were,\nthe very echo of virtue; and being generally the attendant on laudable\nactions, should not be slighted by good men. But popular fame, which would\npretend to imitate it, is hasty and inconsiderate, and generally commends\nwicked and immoral actions, and throws discredit upon the appearance and\nbeauty of honesty, by assuming a resemblance of it. And it is owing to\ntheir not being able to discover the difference between them that some\nmen, ignorant of real excellence, and in what it consists, have been the\ndestruction of their country and of themselves. And thus the best men have\nerred, not so much in their intentions, as by a mistaken conduct. What, is\nno cure to be attempted to be applied to those who are carried away by the\nlove of money, 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 whatever\nfor the mind?\n\nIII. But there are more disorders of the mind than of the body, and they\nare of a more dangerous nature; for these very disorders are the more\noffensive, because they belong to the mind, and disturb it; and the mind,\nwhen disordered, is, as Ennius says, in a constant error; it can neither\nbear nor endure anything, and is under the perpetual influence of desires.\nNow, what disorders can be worse to the body than these two distempers of\nthe mind (for I overlook others), weakness and desire? But how, indeed,\ncan it be maintained that the mind cannot prescribe for itself, when she\nit is who has invented the medicines for the body, when, with regard to\nbodily cures, constitution and nature have a great share, nor do all, who\nsuffer themselves to be cured, find that effect instantly; but those minds\nwhich are disposed to be cured, and submit to the precepts of the wise,\nmay undoubtedly recover a healthy state? Philosophy is certainly the\nmedicine of the soul, whose assistance we do not seek from abroad, as in\nbodily disorders, but we ourselves are bound to exert our utmost energy\nand power in order to effect our cure. But as to philosophy in general, I\nhave, I think, in my \u201cHortensius,\u201d sufficiently spoken of the credit and\nattention which it deserves: since that, indeed, I have been continually\neither disputing or writing on its most material branches: and I have laid\ndown in these books all the discussions which took place between myself\nand my particular friends at my Tusculan Villa: but as I have spoken in\nthe two former of pain and death, this book shall be devoted to the\naccount of the third day of our disputations.\n\nWe came down into the Academy when the day was already declining towards\nafternoon, and I asked one of those who were present to propose a subject\nfor us to discourse on; and then the business was carried on in this\nmanner.\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, anger?\nFor these are pretty much like what the Greeks call \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b7. I might call\nthem diseases, and that would be a literal translation, but it is not\nagreeable to our way of speaking. For envy, delight, and pleasure, are all\ncalled by the Greeks diseases, being affections of the mind not in\nsubordination to reason: but we, I think, are right, in calling the same\nmotions of a disturbed soul perturbations, and in very seldom using the\nterm diseases; though, perhaps, 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 surprised\nat it, that it appeared so to our ancestors many ages before Socrates:\nfrom whom is derived all that philosophy which relates to life and morals.\n\n_A._ How so?\n\n_M._ Because the name madness(84) 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 fools\nare diseased; therefore all fools are mad. For they held that soundness of\nthe mind depends on a certain tranquillity and steadiness; and a mind\nwhich was destitute of these qualities they called insane, because\nsoundness was inconsistent with a perturbed mind just as much as with a\ndisordered body.\n\nV. Nor were they less ingenious in calling the state of the soul devoid of\nthe light of the mind, \u201ca being out of one\u2019s mind,\u201d \u201ca being beside\noneself.\u201d From whence we may understand, that they who gave these names to\nthings were of the same opinion with Socrates, that all silly people were\nunsound, which the Stoics have carefully preserved as being derived from\nhim; for whatever mind is distempered, (and as I just now said, the\nphilosophers call all perturbed motions of the mind distempers,) is no\nmore sound than a body is when in a fit of sickness. Hence it is, that\nwisdom is the soundness of the mind, folly a sort of unsoundness, which is\ninsanity, or a being out of one\u2019s mind: and these are much better\nexpressed by the Latin words than the Greek; which you will find the case\nalso in many other topics. But we will discuss that point elsewhere: let\nus now attend to our present subject. The very meaning of the word\ndescribes the whole thing about which we are inquiring, both as to its\nsubstance and character. For we must necessarily understand by \u201csound,\u201d\nthose whose minds are under no perturbation from any motion as if it were\na disease. They who are differently affected we must necessarily call\n\u201cunsound.\u201d So that nothing is better than what is usual in Latin, to say,\nthat they who are run away with by their lust or anger, have quitted the\ncommand over themselves; though anger includes lust, for anger is defined\nto be the lust 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 of\nreason, to which is assigned by nature the power over the whole soul. Why\nthe Greeks should call this \u03bc\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03b1, I do not easily apprehend; but we\ndefine it much better than they, for we distinguish this madness\n(_insania_), which, being allied to folly, is more extensive, from what we\ncall _furor_, or raving. The Greeks indeed would do so too, but they have\nno one word that will express it: what we call _furor_, they call\n\u03bc\u03b5\u03bb\u03b1\u03b3\u03c7\u03bf\u03bb\u03af\u03b1, as if the reason were affected only by a black bile, and not\ndisturbed as often by a violent rage, or fear, or grief. Thus we say\nAthamas, Alcm\u00e6on, Ajax, and Orestes, were raving (_furere_): because a\nperson affected in this manner was not allowed, by the twelve tables, to\nhave the management of his own affairs; therefore the words are not, if he\nis mad (_insanus_), but, if he begins to be raving (_furiosus_). For they\nlooked upon madness to be an unsettled humour, that proceeded from not\nbeing of sound mind; yet such a person might perform his ordinary duties,\nand discharge the usual and customary requirements of life: but they\nconsidered one that was raving as afflicted with a total blindness of the\nmind, which, notwithstanding it is allowed to be greater than madness, is\nnevertheless of such a nature, that a wise man may be subject to raving\n(_furor_), but cannot possibly be afflicted by insanity (_insania_). But\nthis is another question: let us now return to our original subject.\n\nVI. I think you said that it was your opinion that a wise man was liable\nto 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 Academy\nhas ever produced, say this amiss: \u201cI am by no means of their opinion who\ntalk so much in praise of I know not what insensibility, which neither can\nexist, nor ought to exist: I would choose,\u201d says he, \u201cnever to be ill; but\nshould I be so, still I should choose to retain my sensation, whether\nthere was to be an amputation, or any other separation of anything from my\nbody. For that insensibility cannot be but at the expense of some\nunnatural ferocity of mind, or stupor of body.\u201d But let us consider\nwhether to talk in this manner be not allowing that we are weak, and\nyielding to our softness. Notwithstanding, let us be hardy enough, not\nonly to lop off every arm of our miseries, but even to pluck up every\nfibre of their roots: yet still something perhaps may be left behind, so\ndeep does folly strike its roots: but whatever may be left, it will be no\nmore than is necessary. But let us be persuaded of this, that unless the\nmind be in a sound state, which philosophy alone can effect, there can be\nno end of our miseries. Wherefore, as we begun, let us submit ourselves to\nit for 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 is\nthe principal thing; but, as I originally proposed, of every perturbation\nof the mind, as I termed it, disorder, as the Greeks call it: and first,\nwith your leave, I shall treat it in the manner of the Stoics, whose\nmethod is to reduce their arguments into a very small space; afterwards I\nshall 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 confiding,\nwhich is commendable. But he who is full of faith, is certainly under no\nfear; for there is an inconsistency between faith and fear. Now whoever is\nsubject to grief is subject to fear; for whatever things we grieve at when\npresent, we dread when hanging over us and approaching. Thus it comes\nabout, that grief is inconsistent with courage: it is very probable,\ntherefore, that whoever is subject to grief, is also liable to fear, and\nto a broken kind of spirits and sinking. Now whenever these befal a man,\nhe is in a servile state, and must own that he is overpowered: for whoever\nadmits these feelings, must admit timidity and cowardice. But these cannot\nenter into the mind of a man of courage; neither therefore can grief: but\nthe man of courage is the only wise man; therefore grief cannot befal the\nwise man. It is besides necessary, that whoever is brave, should be a man\nof great soul; that whoever is a man of a great soul, should be\ninvincible: whoever is invincible looks down with contempt on all things\nhere, and considers them beneath him. But no one can despise those things\non account 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 brave;\ntherefore a wise man is not subject to grief. And as the eye, when\ndisordered, is not in a good condition for performing its office properly;\nand as the other parts, and the whole body itself, when unsettled, cannot\nperform their office and business; so the mind, when disordered, is but\nill-fitted to perform its duty. The office of the mind is to use its\nreason well; but the mind of a wise man is always in condition to make the\nbest use of his reason, and therefore is never out of order. But grief is\na disorder of the mind; therefore a wise man will 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 \u03c3\u03ce\u03c6\u03c1\u03c9\u03bd, and they\ncall that virtue \u03c3\u03c9\u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03cd\u03bd\u03b7\u03bd, which I at one time call temperance, at\nanother time moderation, and sometimes even modesty; but I do not know\nwhether that virtue may not be properly called frugality, which has a more\nconfined meaning with the Greeks; for they call frugal men \u03c7\u03c1\u03b7\u03c3\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2,\nwhich implies only that they are useful: but our name has a more extensive\nmeaning; for all abstinence, all innocency, (which the Greeks have no\nordinary name for, though they might use the word \u1f00\u03b2\u03bb\u03ac\u03b2\u03b5\u03b9\u03b1, for innocency\nis that disposition 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, the\nsurname of Piso(85) would not have been in so great esteem. But as we\nallow him not the name of a frugal man (_frugi_), who either quits his\npost through fear, which is cowardice; or who reserves to his own use what\nwas privately committed to his keeping, which is injustice; or who fails\nin his military undertakings through rashness, which is folly; for that\nreason the word frugality takes in these three virtues of fortitude,\njustice, and prudence, though it is indeed common to all virtues, for they\nare all connected and knit together. Let us allow, then, frugality itself\nto be another and fourth virtue; for its peculiar property seems to be, to\ngovern and appease all tendencies to too eager a desire after anything, to\nrestrain lust, and to preserve a decent steadiness in everything. The vice\nin contrast to this is called prodigality (_nequitia_). Frugality, I\nimagine, is derived from the word _fruge_, the best thing which the earth\nproduces; _nequitia_ is derived (though this is perhaps rather more\nstrained, still let us try it; we shall only be thought to have been\ntrifling if there is nothing in what we say) from the fact of everything\nbeing to no purpose (_nequicquam_) in such a man; from which circumstance\nhe is called also _Nihil_, nothing. Whoever is frugal, then, or, if it is\nmore agreeable to you, whoever is moderate and temperate, such a one must\nof course be consistent; whoever is consistent, must be quiet; the quiet\nman must be free from all perturbation, therefore from grief likewise: and\nthese are 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\u2014\n\n\n    Well hast thou spoke, but at the tyrant\u2019s name\n    My rage rekindles, and my soul\u2019s in flame:\n    \u2019Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave,\n    Disgraced, dishonour\u2019d like the vilest slave(86)\u2014\n\n\nhe reasons thus: Is the hand as it should be, when it is affected with a\nswelling? or is it possible for any other member of the body, when swollen\nor enlarged, to be in any other than a disordered state? Must not the\nmind, then, when it is puffed up, or distended, be out of order? But the\nmind of a wise man is always free from every kind of disorder; it never\nswells, never is puffed up: but the mind when in anger is in a different\nstate. A wise man therefore is never angry; for when he is angry, he lusts\nafter something; for whoever is angry naturally has a longing desire to\ngive all the pain he can to the person who he thinks has injured him; and\nwhoever has this earnest desire must necessarily be much pleased with the\naccomplishment of his wishes; hence he is delighted with his neighbour\u2019s\nmisery; and as a wise man is not capable of such feelings as these, he is\ntherefore not capable of anger. But should a wise man be subject to grief,\nhe may likewise 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 grief,\nhe might also be liable to pity, or even might be open to a disposition\ntowards envy (_invidentia_); I do not say to envy (_invidia_), for that\ncan only exist by the very act of envying: but we may fairly form the word\n_invidentia_ from _invidendo_, and so avoid the doubtful name _invidia_;\nfor this word is probably derived from _in_ and _video_, looking too\nclosely into another\u2019s fortune; as it is said in the Melanippus,\n\n\n    Who envies me the flower of my children?\n\n\nwhere the Latin is _invidit florem_. It may appear not good Latin, but it\nis very well put by Accius; for as _video_ governs an accusative case, so\nit is more correct to say _invideo florem_ than _flori_. We are debarred\nfrom saying so by common usage: the poet stood in his own right, and\nexpressed himself with more freedom.\n\nX. Therefore compassion and envy are consistent in the same man; for\nwhoever is uneasy at any one\u2019s adversity, is also uneasy at another\u2019s\nprosperity: as Theophrastus while he laments the death of his companion\nCallisthenes, is at the same time disturbed at the success of Alexander;\nand therefore he says, that Callisthenes met with a man of the greatest\npower and good fortune, but one who did not know how to make use of his\ngood fortune. And as pity is an uneasiness which arises from the\nmisfortunes of another, so envy is an uneasiness that proceeds from the\ngood success of another: therefore whoever is capable of pity, is capable\nof envy. But a wise man is incapable of envy, and consequently incapable\nof pity. But were a wise man used to grieve, to pity also would be\nfamiliar to him; therefore to grieve, is a feeling which cannot affect a\nwise man. Now, though these reasonings of the Stoics, and their\nconclusions, are rather strained and distorted, and ought to be expressed\nin a less stringent and narrow manner, yet great stress is to be laid on\nthe opinions of those men who have a peculiarly bold and manly turn of\nthought and sentiment. For our friends the Peripatetics, notwithstanding\nall their erudition, gravity, and fluency of language, do not satisfy me\nabout the moderation of these disorders and diseases of the soul which\nthey insist upon; for every evil, though moderate, is in its nature great.\nBut our object is to make out that the wise man is free from all evil; for\nas the body is unsound if it is ever so slightly affected, so the mind\nunder any moderate disorder loses its soundness: therefore the Romans\nhave, with their usual accuracy of expression, called trouble, and\nanguish, and vexation, on account of the analogy between a troubled mind\nand a diseased body, disorders. The Greeks call all perturbation of mind\nby pretty nearly the same name; for they name every turbid motion of the\nsoul \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2, that is to say, a distemper. But we have given them a more\nproper name; for a disorder of the mind is very like a disease of the\nbody. But lust does not resemble sickness; neither does immoderate joy,\nwhich is an elated and exulting pleasure of the mind. Fear, too, is not\nvery like a distemper, though it is akin to grief of mind, but properly,\nas is also the case with sickness of the body, so too sickness of mind has\nno name separated from pain. And therefore I must explain the origin of\nthis pain, that is to say, the cause that occasions this grief in the\nmind, as if it were a sickness of the body. For as physicians think they\nhave found out the cure, when they have discovered the cause of the\ndistemper; so we shall discover the method of curing melancholy, when the\ncause of it is found out.\n\nXI. The whole cause, then, is in opinion; and this observation applies not\nto this grief alone, but to every other disorder of the mind, which are of\nfour sorts, but consisting of many parts. For as every disorder or\nperturbation 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 are\ndivided equally into two parts: for two of them proceed from an opinion of\ngood, one of which is an exulting pleasure, that is to say, a joy elated\nbeyond measure, arising from an opinion of some present great good; the\nother is a desire which may fairly be called even a lust, and is an\nimmoderate inclination after some conceived great good, without any\nobedience to reason. Therefore these two kinds, the exulting pleasure, and\nthe lust, have their rise from an opinion of good, as the other two, fear\nand grief, have from an opinion of evil. For fear is an opinion of some\ngreat evil impending over us, and grief is an opinion of some great evil\npresent; and, indeed, it is a freshly conceived opinion of an evil so\ngreat, that to grieve at it seems right: it is of that kind, that he who\nis uneasy at it thinks he has good reason to be so. Now we should exert\nour utmost efforts to oppose these perturbations\u2014which are, as it were, so\nmany furies let loose upon us, and urged on by folly\u2014if we are desirous to\npass this share of life that is allotted to us with ease and satisfaction.\nBut of the other feelings I shall speak elsewhere; our business at present\nis to drive away grief if we can, for that shall be the object of our\npresent discussion, since you have said that it was your opinion that a\nwise man might be subject to grief, which I can by no means allow of; for\nit is a frightful, miserable, and detestable thing, which we should fly\nfrom with our utmost efforts\u2014with all our sails and oars, as I may say.\n\nXII. That descendant of Tantalus, how does he appear to you? he who sprung\nfrom Pelops, who formerly stole Hippodamia from her father-in-law, king\n\u0152nomaus, and married her by force? He who was descended from Jupiter\nhimself, how broken-hearted and dispirited does he not seem!\u2014\n\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\n\nWill you condemn yourself, Thyestes, and deprive yourself of life, on\naccount of the greatness of another\u2019s crime? What do you think of that son\nof Ph\u0153bus? do you not look upon him as unworthy of his own father\u2019s light?\n\n\n    Hollow his eyes, his body worn away,\n    His furrow\u2019d cheeks his frequent tears betray;\n    His beard neglected, and his hoary hairs\n    Rough and uncomb\u2019d, bespeak his bitter cares.\n\n\nO foolish \u00c6etes, these are evils which you yourself have been the cause\nof, and are not occasioned by any accidents with which chance has visited\nyou; and you behaved as you did, even after you had been inured to your\ndistress, and after the first swelling of the mind had subsided! whereas\ngrief consists (as I shall show) in the notion of some recent evil; but\nyour grief, it is very plain, proceeded from the loss of your kingdom, not\nof your daughter, for you hated her, and perhaps with reason, but you\ncould not calmly bear to part with your kingdom. But surely it is an\nimpudent grief which preys upon a man for not being able to command those\nthat are free. Dionysius, it is true, the tyrant of Syracuse, when driven\nfrom his country taught a school at Corinth; so incapable was he of living\nwithout some authority. But what could be more impudent than Tarquin? who\nmade war upon those who could not bear his tyranny; and when he could not\nrecover his kingdom by the aid of the forces of the Veientians and the\nLatins, is said to have betaken himself to Cuma, and to have died in that\ncity, of old age and grief!\n\nXIII. Do you, then, think that it can befal 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 joy\nwith levity, fear with meanness, but grief with something greater than\nthese; it consumes, torments, afflicts, and disgraces a man; it tears him,\npreys upon his mind, and utterly destroys him: if we do not so divest\nourselves of it as to throw it completely off, we cannot be free from\nmisery. And it is clear that there must be grief where anything has the\nappearance of a present sore and oppressing evil. Epicurus is of opinion,\nthat grief arises naturally from the imagination of any evil; so that\nwhosoever is eye-witness of any great misfortune, if he conceives that the\nlike may possibly befal himself, becomes sad instantly from such an idea.\nThe Cyrenaics think that grief is not engendered by every kind of evil,\nbut only by unexpected, unforeseen evil; and that circumstance is, indeed,\nof no small effect on the heightening of grief; for whatsoever comes of a\nsudden appears more formidable. Hence these lines are deservedly\ncommended\u2014\n\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\n\nXIV. Therefore, this ruminating beforehand upon future evils which you see\nat a distance, makes their approach more tolerable; and on this account,\nwhat Euripides makes Theseus say, is much commended. You will give me\nleave to translate them, as is usual with me\u2014\n\n\n    I treasured up what some learn\u2019d 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.(87)\n\n\nBut Euripides says that of himself, which Theseus said he had heard from\nsome learned man, for the poet had been a pupil of Anaxagoras, who, as\nthey relate, on hearing of the death of his son, said, \u201cI knew that my son\nwas mortal;\u201d which speech seems to intimate that such things afflict those\nmen who have not thought on them before. Therefore, there is no doubt but\nthat all those things which are considered evils are the heavier from not\nbeing foreseen. Though, notwithstanding this is not the only circumstance\nwhich occasions the greatest grief, still, as the mind, by foreseeing and\npreparing for it, has great power to make all grief the less, a man should\nat all times consider all the events that may befal him in this life; and\ncertainly the excellence and divine nature of wisdom consists in taking a\nnear view of, and gaining a thorough acquaintance with, all human affairs,\nin not being surprised when anything happens, and in thinking, before the\nevent, that there is nothing but what may come to pass.\n\n\n            Wherefore ev\u2019ry man,\n    When his affairs go on most swimmingly,\n    E\u2019en then it most behoves 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\u2019d,\n    That nothing shall seem new or strange. But if\n    Aught has fall\u2019n out beyond his hopes, all that\n    Let him account clear gain.(88)\n\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 came\nthat 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, for\nso we are told. He, indeed, might well have had the same look at all times\nwho never changed his mind, from which the countenance derives its\nexpression. So that I am ready to borrow of the Cyrenaics those arms\nagainst the accidents and events of life, by means of which, by long\npremeditation, they break the force of all approaching evils; and at the\nsame time, I think that those very evils themselves arise more from\nopinion than nature, for, if they were real, no forecast could make them\nlighter. But I shall speak more particularly on these matters after I have\nfirst considered Epicurus\u2019s opinion, who thinks that all people must\nnecessarily be uneasy who believe themselves to be in any evils, let them\nbe either foreseen and expected, or habitual to them; for, with him, evils\nare not the less by reason of their continuance, nor the lighter for\nhaving been foreseen; and it is folly to ruminate on evils to come, or\nsuch as, perhaps, never may come; every evil is disagreeable enough when\nit does come; but he who is constantly considering that some evil may\nbefal him, is loading himself with a perpetual evil, and even should such\nevil never light on him, he voluntarily takes upon himself unnecessary\nmisery, so that he is under constant uneasiness, whether he actually\nsuffers any evil, or only thinks of it. But he makes the alleviation of\ngrief depend on two things, a ceasing to think on evil, and a turning to\nthe contemplation of pleasure. For he thinks that the mind may possibly be\nunder the power of reason, and follow her directions; he forbids us,\ntherefore, to mind trouble, and calls us off from sorrowful reflections:\nhe throws a mist over our eyes to hinder us from the contemplation of\nmisery. Having sounded a retreat from this statement, he drives our\nthoughts on again, and encourages them to view and engage the whole mind\nin the various pleasures with which he thinks the life of a wise man\nabounds, either from reflecting on the past, or from the hope of what is\nto come. 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 premeditate\non futurity, and blaming their wish to do so; for there is nothing that\nbreaks the edge of grief and lightens it more, than considering, during\none\u2019s whole life, that there is nothing which it is impossible should\nhappen; or, than considering what human nature is, on what conditions life\nwas given, and how we may comply with them. The effect of which is, that\nwe are always grieving, but that we never do so; for whoever reflects on\nthe nature of things, the various turns of life, and the weakness of human\nnature, grieves, indeed, at that reflection; but while so grieving he is,\nabove all other times, behaving as a wise man: for he gains these two\nthings by it; one, that while he is considering the state of human nature\nhe is performing the especial duties of philosophy, and is provided with a\ntriple medicine against adversity: in the first place, because he has long\nreflected that such things might befal 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 a man, with the feelings and spirit of a man; and\nlastly, because he considers that what is blameable is the only evil; but\nit is not your fault that something has happened to you which it was\nimpossible for man to avoid. For that withdrawing of our thoughts which he\nrecommends when he calls us off from contemplating our misfortunes, is an\nimaginary action; for it is not in our power to dissemble or to forget\nthose evils which lie heavy on us; they tear, vex, and sting us\u2014they burn\nus up, and leave no breathing-time; and do you order us to forget them,\n(for such forgetfulness is contrary to nature,) and at the same time\ndeprive us of the only assistance which nature affords, the being\naccustomed to them? for that, though it is but a slow medicine (I mean\nthat which is brought by lapse of time), is still a very effectual one.\nYou order me to employ my thoughts on something good, and forget my\nmisfortunes. You would say something worthy a great philosopher, if you\nthought those things good which are best suited to the dignity of human\nnature.\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, perhaps,\nmay have power to harass and disturb you, but should not quite unman you?\nThere is great power in the virtues; rouse them if they chance to droop.\nTake fortitude for your guide, which will give you such spirits, that you\nwill despise everything that can befal man, and look on it as a trifle.\nAdd to this temperance, which is moderation, and which was just now called\nfrugality, which will not suffer you to do anything base or bad\u2014for what\nis worse or baser than an effeminate man? Not even justice will suffer you\nto act in this manner, though she seems to have the least weight in this\naffair; but still, notwithstanding, even she will inform you that you are\ndoubly unjust when you both require what does not belong to you, inasmuch\nas though you who have been born mortal, demand to be placed in the\ncondition of the immortals, and at the same time you take it much to heart\nthat you are to restore what was lent you. What answer will you make to\nprudence, who informs you that she is a virtue sufficient of herself both\nto teach you a good life, and also to secure you a happy one? And, indeed,\nif she were fettered by external circumstances, and dependent on others,\nand if she did not originate in herself and return to herself, and also\nembrace everything in herself, so as to seek no adventitious aid from any\nquarter, I cannot imagine why she should appear deserving of such lofty\npanegyrics, or of being sought after with such excessive eagerness. Now,\nEpicurus, if you call me back to such goods as these, I will obey you, and\nfollow you, and use you as my guide, and even forget, as you order me, all\nmy misfortunes; and I will do this the more readily from a persuasion that\nthey are not to be ranked amongst evils at all. But you are for bringing\nmy thoughts over to pleasure. What pleasures? pleasures of the body, I\nimagine, or such as are recollected or imagined on account of the body. Is\nthis all? Do I explain your opinion rightly? for your disciples are used\nto deny that we understand at all what Epicurus means. This is what he\nsays, and what that subtle fellow, old Zeno, who is one of the sharpest of\nthem, used, when I was attending lectures at Athens, to enforce and talk\nso loudly of; saying that he alone was happy who could enjoy present\npleasure, and who was at the same time persuaded that he should enjoy it\nwithout pain, either during the whole or the greatest part of his life; or\nif, should any pain interfere, if it was very sharp, then it must be\nshort; should it be of longer continuance, it would have more of what was\nsweet than bitter in it; that whosoever reflected on these things would be\nhappy, especially if satisfied with the good things which he had already\nenjoyed, and if he were without fear of death, or of 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 contradiction\nin any point. What then? Can the proposing and thinking of such a life\nmake Thyestes grief the less, or \u00c6etes\u2019s, of whom I spoke above, or\nTelamon\u2019s, who was driven from his country to penury and banishment? in\nwonder at whom men exclaimed thus:\u2014\n\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\u2019d lustre shone?\n\n\nNow, should any one, as the same author says, find his spirits sink with\nthe loss of his fortune, he must apply to those grave philosophers of\nantiquity 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 is\nnot necessary at present to go through the whole: the question is, to what\npoint are we to advance in order to abate our grief? Grant that to be in\npain is the greatest evil; whosoever, then, has proceeded so far as not to\nbe in pain, is he, therefore, in immediate possession of the greatest\ngood? Why, Epicurus, do we use any evasions, and not allow in our own\nwords the same feeling to be pleasure, which you are used to boast of with\nsuch assurance? Are these your words or not? This is what you say in that\nbook which contains all the doctrine of your school; for I will perform,\non this occasion, the office of a translator, lest any one should imagine\nthat I am inventing anything. Thus you speak: \u201cNor can I form any notion\nof the chief good, abstracted from those pleasures which are perceived by\ntaste, or from what depends on hearing music, or abstracted from ideas\nraised by external objects visible to the eye, or by agreeable motions, or\nfrom those other pleasures which are perceived by the whole man by means\nof any of his senses; nor can it possibly be said that the pleasures of\nthe mind are excited only by what is good; for I have perceived men\u2019s\nminds to be pleased with the hopes of enjoying those things which I\nmentioned above, and with the idea that it should enjoy them without any\ninterruption from pain.\u201d And these are his exact words, so that any one\nmay understand what were the pleasures with which Epicurus was acquainted.\nThen he speaks thus, a little lower down: \u201cI have often inquired of those\nwho have been called wise men, what would be the remaining good if they\nshould exclude from consideration all these pleasures, unless they meant\nto give us nothing but words? I could never learn anything from them; and\nunless they choose that all virtue and wisdom should vanish and come to\nnothing, they must say with me, that the only road to happiness lies\nthrough those pleasures which I mentioned above.\u201d 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 ease\nhis grief? and should you observe any one of your friends under\naffliction, would you rather prescribe him a sturgeon than a treatise of\nSocrates? or advise him to listen to the music of a water-organ rather\nthan to Plato? or lay before him the beauty and variety of some garden,\nput a nosegay to his nose, burn perfumes before him, and bid him crown\nhimself with a garland of roses and woodbines? Should you add one thing\nmore, you would certainly wipe out all his grief.\n\nXIX. Epicurus must admit these arguments; or he must take out of his book\nwhat I just now said was a literal translation; or rather he must destroy\nhis whole book, for it is crammed full of pleasures. We must inquire,\nthen, how we can ease him of his grief, who speaks in this manner:\u2014\n\n\n    My present state proceeds from fortune\u2019s stings;\n    By birth I boast of a descent from kings;\n    Hence may you see from what a noble height\n    I\u2019m sunk by fortune to this abject plight.\n\n\nWhat! to ease his grief, must we mix him a cup of sweet wine, or something\nof that kind? Lo! the same poet presents us with another sentiment\nsomewhere else:\u2014\n\n\n    I, Hector, once so great, now claim your aid.\n\n\nWe should assist her, for she looks out for help.\n\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\u2019s left t\u2019 appease the gods.\n\n\nYou know what should follow, and particularly this:\u2014\n\n\n    Of father, country, and of friends bereft,\n    Not one of all these sumptuous temples left;\n    Which, whilst the fortune of our house did stand,\n    With rich-wrought ceilings spoke the artist\u2019s hand.\n\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 to\nthe best advantage, which had the appearance of a long continuance, what\ndoes he add?\u2014\n\n\n    Lo, these all perish\u2019d in one blazing pile;\n    The foe old Priam of his life beguiled,\n    And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defiled.\n\n\nAdmirable poetry! There is something mournful in the subject, as well as\nin the words and measure. We must drive away this grief of her\u2019s: how is\nthat to be done? Shall we lay her on a bed of down: introduce a singer;\nshall we burn cedar, or present her with some pleasant liquor, and provide\nher something to eat? Are these the good things which remove the most\nafflicting grief? for you but just now said you knew of no other good. I\nshould agree with Epicurus that we ought to be called off from grief to\ncontemplate good things, if we could only agree upon what was good.\n\nXX. It may be said, What! do you imagine Epicurus really meant this, and\nthat he maintained anything so sensual? Indeed I do not imagine so, for I\nam sensible that he has uttered many excellent things and sentiments, and\ndelivered maxims of great weight. Therefore, as I said before, I am\nspeaking of his acuteness, not of his morals. Though he should hold those\npleasures in contempt, which he just now commended, yet I must remember\nwherein he places the chief good. For he was not contented with barely\nsaying this, but he has explained what he meant: he says, that taste, and\nembraces, and sports, and music, and those forms which affect the eyes\nwith pleasure, are the chief good. Have I invented this? have I\nmisrepresented him? I should be glad to be confuted; for what am I\nendeavouring at, but to clear up truth in every question? Well, but the\nsame man says, that pleasure is at its height where pain ceases, and that\nto be free from all pain is the very greatest pleasure. Here are three\nvery great mistakes in a very few words. One is, that he contradicts\nhimself; for, but just now, he could not imagine anything good, unless the\nsenses were in a manner tickled with some pleasure; but now he says that\nto be free from pain is the highest pleasure. Can any one contradict\nhimself more? The next mistake is, that where there is naturally a\nthreefold division, the first, to be pleased; next, to be in pain; the\nlast, to be affected neither by pleasure nor pain: he imagines the first\nand the last to be the same, and makes no difference betwixt pleasure and\na cessation of pain. The last mistake he falls into in common with some\nothers; which is this: that as virtue is the most desirable thing, and as\nphilosophy has been investigated with a view to the attainment of it, he\nhas separated the chief good from virtue. But he commends virtue, and that\nfrequently; and indeed C. Gracchus, when he had made the largest\ndistributions of the public money, and had exhausted the treasury,\nnevertheless spoke much of defending the treasury. What signifies what men\nsay, when we see what they do? That Piso, who was surnamed Frugal, had\nalways harangued against the law that was proposed for distributing the\ncorn, but when it had passed, though a man of consular dignity, he came to\nreceive the corn. Gracchus observed Piso standing in the court, and asked\nhim, in the hearing of the people, how it was consistent for him to take\ncorn by a law he had himself opposed? \u201cIt was,\u201d said he, \u201cagainst your\ndistributing my goods to every man as you thought proper; but, as you do\nso, I claim my share.\u201d Did not this grave and wise man sufficiently show\nthat the public revenue was dissipated by the Sempronian law? Read\nGracchus\u2019s 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 not\nmean _that_ pleasure: let him mean any pleasure, it must be such a one as\nmakes no part of virtue. But suppose we are mistaken as to his pleasure,\nare we so too as to his pain? I maintain therefore the impropriety of\nlanguage which that man uses when talking of virtue, who would measure\nevery great evil by pain?\n\nXXI. And indeed the Epicureans, those best of men, for there is no order\nof men more innocent, complain, that I take great pains to inveigh against\nEpicurus. We are rivals, I suppose, for some honour or distinction. I\nplace the chief good in the mind, he in the body; I in virtue, he in\npleasure; and the Epicureans are up in arms, and implore the assistance of\ntheir neighbours, and many are ready to fly to their aid. But, as for my\npart, I declare that I am very indifferent about the matter, and that I\nconsider the whole discussion which they are so anxious about at an end.\nFor what! is the contention about the Punic war? on which very subject,\nthough M. Cato and L. Lentulus were of different opinions, still there was\nno difference betwixt them. But these men behave with too much heat,\nespecially as the opinions which they would uphold are no very spirited\nones, and such as they dare not plead for either in the senate, or before\nthe assembly of the people, or before the army, or the censors: but,\nhowever, I will argue with them another time, and with such a disposition\nthat no quarrel shall arise between us; for I shall be ready to yield to\ntheir opinions when founded on truth. Only I must give them this advice:\nThat were it ever so true, that a wise man regards nothing but the body;\nor, to express myself with more decency, never does anything except what\nis expedient, and views all things with exclusive reference to his own\nadvantage; as such things are not very commendable, they should confine\nthem to their own 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 said\nbefore, a great aggravation of a misfortune; and I know that it appeared\nso to Chrysippus, \u201cWhatever falls out unexpected is so much the heavier.\u201d\nBut the whole question does not turn on this; though the sudden approach\nof an enemy sometimes occasions more confusion than it would if you had\nexpected him, and a sudden storm at sea throws the sailors into a greater\nfright than one which they have foreseen; and it is the same in many other\ncases. But when you carefully consider the nature of what was expected,\nyou will find nothing more, than that all things which come on a sudden\nappear greater; and this upon two accounts: first of all, because you have\nnot time to consider how great the accident is; and secondly, because you\nare probably persuaded that you could have guarded against it had you\nforeseen it, and therefore the misfortune, having been seemingly\nencountered by your own fault, makes your grief the greater. That it is\nso, time evinces; which, as it advances, brings with it so much\nmitigation, that though the same misfortunes continue, the grief not only\nbecomes the less, but in some cases is entirely removed. Many\nCarthaginians were slaves at Rome, and many Macedonians when Perseus their\nking was taken prisoner. I saw, too, when I was a young man, some\nCorinthians in the Peloponnesus. They might all have lamented with\nAndromache,\u2014\n\n\n    All these I saw...;\n\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 ruined\nwalls of Corinth, than the Corinthians themselves were, whose minds by\nfrequent reflection and time had become callous to such sights. I have\nread a book of Clitomachus, which he sent to his fellow-citizens, who were\nprisoners, to comfort them after the destruction of Carthage; there is in\nit a treatise written by Carneades, which, as Clitomachus says, he had\ninserted into his book; the subject was, \u201cThat it appeared probable that a\nwise man would grieve at the state of subjection of his country,\u201d and all\nthe arguments which Carneades used against this proposition are set down\nin the book. There the philosopher applies such a strong medicine to a\nfresh grief, as would be quite unnecessary in one of any continuance; nor,\nif this very book had been sent to the captives some years after, would it\nhave found any wounds to cure, but only scars; for grief, by a gentle\nprogress and slow degrees, wears away imperceptibly. Not that the\ncircumstances which gave rise to it are altered, or can be, but that\ncustom teaches what reason should, that those things which before seemed\nto be of some consequence, are of no such great importance after all.\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 the\ngrief of the afflicted? For we have this argument always at hand, that\nnothing ought to appear unexpected. But how will any one be enabled to\nbear his misfortunes the better by knowing that it is unavoidable that\nsuch things should happen to man? Saying this subtracts nothing from the\nsum of the grief: it only asserts that nothing has fallen out but what\nmight have been anticipated; and yet this manner of speaking has some\nlittle consolation in it, though I apprehend not a great deal. Therefore\nthose unlooked-for things have not so much force as to give rise to all\nour grief; the blow perhaps may fall the heavier, but whatever happens\ndoes not appear the greater on that account; no, it is the fact of its\nhaving happened lately, and not of its having befallen us unexpectedly,\nthat makes it seem the greater. There are two ways then of discerning the\ntruth, not only of things that seem evil, but of those that have the\nappearance of good. For we either inquire into the nature of the thing, of\nwhat description, and magnitude, and importance it is,\u2014as 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,\u2014or, without any subtle arguing, we refer them to\nexamples, as here we instance a Socrates, there a Diogenes, and then again\nthat line in C\u00e6cilius,\n\n\n    Wisdom is oft conceal\u2019d in mean attire.\n\n\nFor as poverty is of equal weight with all, what reason can be given, why\nwhat 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 that\nother way of comforting, which consists in pointing out that nothing has\nhappened but what is common to human nature; for this argument doth not\nonly inform us what human nature is, but implies that all things are\ntolerable which others have borne and are bearing.\n\nXXIV. Is poverty the subject? they tell you of many who have submitted to\nit with patience. Is it the contempt of honours? they acquaint you with\nsome who never enjoyed any, and were the happier for it; and of those who\nhave preferred a private retired life to public employment, mentioning\ntheir names with respect; they tell you of the verse(89) of that most\npowerful king, who praises an old man, and pronounces him happy, because\nhe was unknown to fame, and seemed likely to arrive at the hour of death\nin obscurity and without notice. Thus too they have examples for those who\nare deprived of their children; they who are under any great grief are\ncomforted by instances of like affliction; and thus the endurance of every\nmisfortune is rendered more easy by the fact of others having undergone\nthe same, and the fate of others causes what has happened to appear less\nimportant than it has been previously thought, and reflection thus\ndiscovers to us how much opinion had imposed on us. And this is what that\nTelamon declares, \u201cI, when my son was born,\u201d etc.; and thus Theseus, \u201cI on\nmy future misery did dwell;\u201d and Anaxagoras, \u201cI knew my son was mortal.\u201d\nAll these men, by frequently reflecting on human affairs, had discovered\nthat they were by no means to be estimated by the opinion of the\nmultitude; and indeed it seems to me to be pretty much the same case with\nthose who consider beforehand as with those who derive their remedies from\ntime, excepting that a kind of reason cures the one, and the other remedy\nis provided 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 of\nthis is, that the blow is greater by reason of its not having been\nforeseen, and not, as they suppose, that when similar misfortunes befal\ntwo different people, that man only is affected with grief whom this\ncalamity has befallen unexpectedly. So that some persons, under the\noppression of grief, are said to have borne it actually worse for hearing\nof this common condition of man, that we are born under such conditions as\nrender it impossible for a man to be exempt from all evil.\n\nXXV. For this reason Carneades, as I see our friend Antiochus writes, used\nto blame Chrysippus for commending these verses of Euripides,\u2014\n\n\n    Man, doom\u2019d to care, to pain, disease, and strife,\n    Walks his short journey thro\u2019 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\u2019d ears the harvest-sickle wait.(90)\n\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 that,\npreaching up comfort from the misfortunes of another, was a comfort\nadapted only to those of a malevolent disposition. But to me it appears\nfar otherwise; for the necessity of bearing what is the common condition\nof humanity forbids your resisting the will of the Gods, and reminds you\nthat you are a man; which reflection greatly alleviates grief; and the\nenumeration of these examples is not produced with a view to please those\nof a malevolent disposition, but in order that any one in affliction may\nbe induced to bear what he observes many others have previously borne with\ntranquillity and moderation. For they who are falling to pieces, and\ncannot hold together through the greatness of their grief, should be\nsupported by all kinds of assistance. From whence Chrysippus thinks that\ngrief is called \u03bb\u03cd\u03c0\u03b7, as it were \u03bb\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2, that is to say, a dissolution of\nthe whole man. The whole of which I think may be pulled up by the roots,\nby explaining, as I said at the beginning, the cause of grief; for it is\nnothing else but an opinion and judgment formed of a present acute evil.\nAnd thus any bodily pain, let it be ever so grievous, may be endurable\nwhere any hopes are proposed of some considerable good; and we receive\nsuch consolation from a virtuous and illustrious life, that they who lead\nsuch lives are seldom attacked by grief, or but slightly affected by it.\n\nXXVI. But as besides this opinion of great evil there is this other added\nalso, that we ought to lament what has happened, that it is right so to\ndo, and part of our duty; then is brought about that terrible disorder of\nmind, grief. And it is to this opinion that we owe all those various and\nhorrid kinds of lamentation, that neglect of our persons, that womanish\ntearing of our cheeks, that striking on our thighs, breasts, and heads.\nThus Agamemnon, in Homer and in Accius,\u2014\n\n\n    Tears in his grief his uncomb\u2019d locks;(91)\n\n\nfrom whence comes that pleasant saying of Bion, that the foolish king in\nhis sorrow tore away the hairs of his head, imagining that his grief would\nbe alleviated by baldness. But men do all these things from being\npersuaded that they ought to do so. And thus \u00c6schines inveighs against\nDemosthenes for sacrificing within seven days after the death of his\ndaughter. But with what eloquence, with what fluency does he attack him!\nwhat sentiments does he collect! what words does he hurl against him! You\nmay see by this that an orator may do anything; but nobody would approve\nof such licence if it were not that we have an idea innate in our minds,\nthat every good man ought to lament the loss of a relation as bitterly as\npossible. And it is owing to this that some men, when in sorrow, betake\nthemselves to deserts, as Homer says of Bellerophon;\u2014\n\n\n            Distracted in his mind,\n    Forsook by heaven, forsaking human kind,\n    Wide o\u2019er the Ale\u00efan field he chose to stray,\n    A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way!(92)\n\n\nAnd thus Niobe is feigned to have been turned into stone, from her never\nspeaking, I suppose, in her grief. But they imagine Hecuba to have been\nconverted into a bitch, from her rage and bitterness of mind. There are\nothers who love to converse with solitude itself, when in grief, as the\nnurse in Ennius,\u2014\n\n\n    Fain would I to the heavens and earth relate\n    Medea\u2019s ceaseless woes and cruel fate.(93)\n\n\nXXVII. Now all these things are done in grief, from a persuasion of their\ntruth, 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 a\nmoment in a more calm or cheerful manner, they presently check themselves\nand return to their lamentations again, and blame themselves for having\nbeen guilty of any intermissions from their grief. And parents and masters\ngenerally correct children not by words only, but by blows, if they show\nany levity by either word or deed when the family is under affliction,\nand, as it were, oblige them to be sorrowful. What? does it not appear,\nwhen you have ceased to mourn, and have discovered that your grief has\nbeen ineffectual, that the whole of that mourning was voluntary, on your\npart? What does that man say, in Terence, who punishes himself, the\nSelf-tormentor?\n\n\n    I think I do my son less harm, O Chremes,\n    As long as I myself am miserable.\n\n\nHe determines to be miserable: and can any one determine on anything\nagainst his will?\n\n\n    I well might think that I deserved all evil.\n\n\nHe would think he deserved any misfortune, were he otherwise than\nmiserable! Therefore, you see the evil is in opinion, not in nature. How\nis it, when some things do of themselves prevent your grieving at them? as\nin Homer, so many died and were buried daily, that they had not leisure to\ngrieve: where you find these lines,\u2014\n\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 honours 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\u2019d,\n    Our care devolves on others left behind.(94)\n\n\nTherefore it is in our own power to lay aside grief upon occasion; and is\nthere 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 Cn\u00e6us Pompeius, when they saw him fainting under his wounds, at\nthe very moment of that most miserable and bitter sight were under great\nuneasiness how they themselves, surrounded by the enemy as they were,\nshould escape, and were employed in nothing but encouraging the rowers and\naiding their escape; but when they reached Tyre, they began to grieve and\nlament over him. Therefore, as fear with them prevailed over grief, cannot\nreason and true philosophy have the same effect with a 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 who,\nafter they have been exercised in afflictions and are better able to bear\nwhatever befals them, suppose themselves hardened against fortune; as that\nperson in Euripides\u2014\n\n\n    Had this the first essay of fortune been,\n    And I no storms thro\u2019 all my life had seen,\n    Wild as a colt I\u2019d broke from reason\u2019s sway;\n    But frequent griefs have taught me to obey.(95)\n\n\nAs, then, the frequent bearing of misery makes grief the lighter, we must\nnecessarily perceive that the cause and original of it does not lie in the\ncalamity itself. Your principal philosophers, or lovers of wisdom, though\nthey have not yet arrived at perfect wisdom, are not they sensible that\nthey are in the greatest evil? For they are foolish, and foolishness is\nthe greatest of all evils, and yet they lament not. How shall we account\nfor this? Because opinion is not fixed upon that kind of evil; it is not\nour opinion that it is right, meet, and our duty to be uneasy because we\nare not all wise men. Whereas this opinion is strongly affixed to that\nuneasiness where mourning is concerned, which is the greatest of all\ngrief. Therefore Aristotle, when he blames some ancient philosophers for\nimagining that by their genius they had brought philosophy to the highest\nperfection, says, they must be either extremely foolish or extremely vain;\nbut that he himself could see that great improvements had been made\ntherein in a few years, and that philosophy would in a little time arrive\nat perfection. And Theophrastus is reported to have reproached nature at\nhis death for giving to stags and crows so long a life, which was of no\nuse to them, but allowing only so short a span to men, to whom length of\ndays would have been of the greatest use; for if the life of man could\nhave been lengthened, it would have been able to provide itself with all\nkinds of learning, 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 no\nopinion 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 to\ngrieve? amongst whom we may reckon Q. Maximus, when he buried his son that\nhad been consul, and L. Paulus, who lost two sons within a few days of one\nanother. Of the same opinion was M. Cato, who lost his son just after he\nhad been elected pr\u00e6tor, and many others, whose names I have collected in\nmy book on Consolation. Now what made these men so easy, but their\npersuasion that grief and lamentation was not becoming in a man?\nTherefore, as some give themselves up to grief from an opinion that it is\nright so to do, they refrained themselves, from an opinion that it was\ndiscreditable; from which we may infer that grief is owing more to opinion\nthan nature.\n\nXXIX. It may be said, on the other side, Who is so mad as to grieve of his\nown accord? Pain proceeds from nature; which you must submit to, say they,\nagreeably to what even your own Crantor teaches, for it presses and gains\nupon you unavoidably, and cannot possibly be resisted. So that the very\nsame Oileus, in Sophocles, who had before comforted Telamon on the death\nof Ajax, on hearing of the death of his own son is broken-hearted. On this\nalteration of his mind we have these lines:\u2014\n\n\n    Show me the man so well by wisdom taught\n    That what he charges to another\u2019s fault,\n    When like affliction doth himself betide,\n    True to his own wise counsel will abide.(96)\n\n\nNow when they urge these things, their endeavour is to prove that nature\nis absolutely and wholly irresistible; and yet the same people allow that\nwe take greater grief on ourselves than nature requires. What madness is\nit then in us to require the same from others? But there are many reasons\nfor our taking grief on us. The first is from the opinion of some evil, on\nthe discovery and certainty of which grief comes of course. Besides, many\npeople are persuaded that they are doing something very acceptable to the\ndead when they lament bitterly over them. To these may be added a kind of\nwomanish superstition, in imagining that when they have been stricken by\nthe afflictions sent by the gods, to acknowledge themselves afflicted and\nhumbled by them is the readiest way of appeasing them. But most men appear\nto be unaware what contradictions these things are full of. They commend\nthose who die calmly, but they blame those who can bear the loss of\nanother with the same calmness, as if it were possible that it should be\ntrue, as is occasionally said in love speeches, that any one can love\nanother more than himself. There is, indeed, something excellent in this,\nand, if you examine it, something no less just than true, that we love\nthose who 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, or\nthat he should love me so; for this would occasion much confusion in life,\nand break in upon all the duties of it.\n\nXXX. But we will speak of this another time: at present it is sufficient\nnot to attribute our misery to the loss of our friends, nor to love them\nmore than, if they themselves could be sensible of our conduct, they would\napprove of, or at least not more than we do ourselves. Now as to what they\nsay, that some are not at all appeased by our consolations; and moreover\nas to what they add, that the comforters themselves acknowledge they are\nmiserable when fortune varies the attack and falls on them,\u2014in both these\ncases the solution is easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in\nour own folly; and much may be said against folly. But men who do not\nadmit of consolation seem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who\ncannot bear their misfortunes with that temper which they recommend to\nothers, are not more faulty in this particular than most other persons;\nfor we see that covetous men find fault with others who are covetous; as\ndo the vain-glorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the\npursuit of glory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to\nperceive the vices of others, but to forget its own. But since we find\nthat grief is removed by length of time, we have the greatest proof that\nthe strength of it depends not merely on time, but on the daily\nconsideration of it. For if the cause continues the same, and the man be\nthe same, how can there be any alteration in the grief, if there is no\nchange in what occasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves? Therefore it\nis from daily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance\nfor which 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 determine\nthe measure of it; but if it depends on and is caused by opinion, the\nwhole opinion should be destroyed. I think that it has been sufficiently\nsaid, that grief arises from an opinion of some present evil, which\nincludes this belief, that it is incumbent on us to grieve. To this\ndefinition Zeno has added very justly, that the opinion of this present\nevil should be recent. Now this word recent they explain thus;\u2014those are\nnot the only recent things which happened a little while ago, but as long\nas there shall be any force or vigour or freshness in that imagined evil,\nso long it is entitled to the name of recent. Take the case of Artemisia,\nthe wife of Mausolus king of Caria, who made that noble sepulchre at\nHalicarnassus; whilst she lived she lived in grief, and died of it, being\nworn out by it, for that opinion was always recent with her: but you\ncannot call that recent, which has already begun to decay through time.\nNow the duty of a comforter is, to remove grief entirely, to quiet it, or\ndraw it off as much as you can, or else to keep it under, and prevent its\nspreading any further, and to divert one\u2019s attention to other matters.\nThere are some who think with Cleanthes, that the only duty of a comforter\nis to prove, that what one is lamenting is by no means an evil. Others, as\nthe Peripatetics, prefer urging that the evil is not great. Others, with\nEpicurus, seek to divert your attention from the evil to good: some think\nit sufficient to show, that nothing has happened but what you had reason\nto expect, and this is the practice of the Cyrenaics. But Chrysippus\nthinks that the main thing in comforting is, to remove the opinion from\nthe person who is grieving, that to grieve is his bounden duty. There are\nothers who bring together all these various kinds of consolations, for\npeople are differently affected; as I have done myself in my book on\nConsolation: for as my own mind was much disordered, I have attempted in\nthat book to discover every method of cure. But the proper season is as\nmuch to be attended to in the cure of the mind, as of the body; as\nPrometheus in \u00c6schylus, on its being said to him,\n\n\n    I think, Prometheus, you this tenet hold,\n    That all men\u2019s reason should their rage control;\n\n\nanswers,\n\n\n    Yes, when one reason properly applies;\n    Ill-timed advice will make the storm but rise.(97)\n\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 one:\nthe next best to that is, to speak of the common condition of life, having\na view, if possible, to the state of the person whom you comfort\nparticularly. The third is, that it is folly to wear oneself out with\ngrief which can avail nothing. For the comfort of Cleanthes is suitable\nonly for a wise man, who is in no need of any comfort at all; for could\nyou persuade one in grief, that nothing is an evil but what is base, you\nwould not only cure him of grief, but folly. But the time for such\nprecepts is not well chosen. Besides, Cleanthes does not seem to me\nsufficiently aware that affliction may very often proceed from that very\nthing which he himself allows to be the greatest misfortune. For what\nshall we say? When Socrates had convinced Alcibiades, as we are told, that\nhe had no distinctive qualifications as a man different from other people,\nand that in fact there was no difference betwixt him, though a man of the\nhighest rank, and a porter; and when Alcibiades became uneasy at this, and\nentreated Socrates, with tears in his eyes, to make him a man of virtue,\nand to cure him of that mean position; what shall we say to this,\nCleanthes? Was there no evil in what afflicted Alcibiades thus? What\nstrange things does Lycon say? who, making light of grief, says that it\narises from trifles, from things that affect our fortune or bodies, not\nfrom the evils of the mind. What, then\u2014did not the grief of Alcibiades\nproceed from the defects and evils of the mind? I have already said enough\nof Epicurus\u2019s consolation.\n\nXXXIII. Nor is that consolation much to be relied on, though it is\nfrequently practised, and sometimes has some effect, namely, \u201cThat you are\nnot alone in this.\u201d\u2014It has its effect, as I said, but not always, nor with\nevery person; for some reject it, but much depends on the application of\nit; for you ought rather to show, not how men in general have been\naffected with such evils, but how men of sense have borne them. As to\nChrysippus\u2019s method, it is certainly founded in truth; but it is difficult\nto apply it in time of distress. It is a work of no small difficulty to\npersuade a person in affliction that he grieves, merely because he thinks\nit right so to do. Certainly then, as in pleadings we do not state all\ncases alike, (if I may adopt the language of lawyers for a moment,) but\nadapt what we have to say to the time, to the nature of the subject under\ndebate, and to the person; so too in alleviating grief, regard should be\nhad to what kind of cure the party to be comforted can admit of. But,\nsomehow or other, we have rambled from what you originally proposed. For\nyour question was concerning a wise man, with whom nothing can have the\nappearance of evil, that is not dishonourable: or at least, anything else\nwould seem so small an evil, that by his wisdom he would so over-match it,\nas to make it wholly disappear; and such a man makes no addition to his\ngrief through opinion, and never conceives it right to torment himself\nabove measure, nor to wear himself out with grief, which is the meanest\nthing imaginable. Reason, however, it seems, has demonstrated, (though it\nwas not 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, and\nthe error of opinion.\n\nXXXIV. But the kind of affliction of which I have treated is that which is\nthe greatest; in order that when we have once got rid of that, it may\nappear a business of less consequence to look after remedies for the\nothers. For there are certain things which are usually said about poverty;\nand also certain statements ordinarily applied to retired and\nundistinguished life. There are particular treatises on banishment, on the\nruin of one\u2019s country, on slavery, on weakness, on blindness, and on every\nincident that can come under the name of an evil. The Greeks divide these\ninto different treatises and distinct books: but they do it for the sake\nof employment: not but that all such discussions are full of\nentertainment; and yet, as physicians, in curing the whole body, attend to\neven the most insignificant part of the body which is at all disordered,\nso does philosophy act, after it has removed grief in general, (still if\nany other deficiency exists, should poverty bite, should ignominy sting,\nshould banishment bring a dark cloud over us, or should any of those\nthings which I have just mentioned appear,)\u2014there is for each its\nappropriate consolation: which you shall hear whenever you please. But we\nmust have recourse again to the same original principle, that a wise man\nis free from all sorrow, because it is vain, because it answers no\npurpose, because it is not founded in nature, but on opinion and\nprejudice, and is engendered by a kind of invitation to grieve, when once\nmen have imagined that it is their duty to do so. When then we have\nsubtracted what is altogether voluntary, that mournful uneasiness will be\nremoved; yet some little anxiety, some slight pricking will still remain.\nThey may indeed call this natural, provided they give it not that horrid,\nsolemn, melancholy name of grief, which can by no means consist with\nwisdom. But how various, and how bitter, are the roots of grief! Whatever\nthey are, I propose, after having felled the trunk, to destroy them all;\neven if it should be necessary, by allotting a separate dissertation to\neach, for I have leisure enough to do so, whatever time it may take up.\nBut the principle of every uneasiness is the same, though they may appear\nunder different names. For envy is an uneasiness; so are emulation,\ndetraction, anguish, sorrow, sadness, tribulation, lamentation, vexation,\ngrief, trouble, affliction, and despair. The Stoics define all these\ndifferent feelings, and all those words which I have mentioned belong to\ndifferent things, and do not, as they seem, express the same ideas; but\nthey are to a certain extent distinct, as I shall make appear perhaps in\nanother place. These are those fibres of the roots, which, as I said at\nfirst, must be traced back and cut off, and destroyed, so that not one\nshall remain. You say it is a great and difficult undertaking:\u2014who denies\nit? But what is there of any excellency which has not its difficulty?\u2014Yet\nphilosophy undertakes to effect it, provided we admit its superintendence.\nBut enough of this: the other books, whenever you please, shall be ready\nfor you here, or any where else.\n\n\n\n\nBook IV. On Other Perturbations Of The Mind.\n\n\nI. I have often wondered, Brutus, on many occasions, at the ingenuity and\nvirtues of our countrymen; but nothing has surprised me more than their\ndevelopment in those studies, which, though they came somewhat late to us,\nhave been transported into this city from Greece. For the system of\nauspices, and religious ceremonies, and courts of justice, and appeals to\nthe people, the senate, the establishment of an army of cavalry and\ninfantry, and the whole military discipline, were instituted as early as\nthe foundation of the city by royal authority, partly too by laws, not\nwithout the assistance of the Gods. Then with what a surprising and\nincredible progress did our ancestors advance towards all kind of\nexcellence, when once the republic was freed from the regal power! Not\nthat this is a proper occasion to treat of the manners and customs of our\nancestors, or of the discipline and constitution of the city; for I have\nelsewhere, particularly in the six books I wrote on the Republic, given a\nsufficiently accurate account of them. But whilst I am on this subject,\nand considering the study of philosophy, I meet with many reasons to\nimagine that those studies were brought to us from abroad, and not merely\nimported, but preserved and improved; for they had Pythagoras, a man of\nconsummate wisdom and nobleness of character, in a manner, before their\neyes; who was in Italy at the time that Lucius Brutus, the illustrious\nfounder of your nobility, delivered his country from tyranny. As the\ndoctrine of Pythagoras spread itself on all sides, it seems probable to\nme, that it reached this city; and this is not only probable of itself,\nbut it does really appear to have been the case from many remains of it.\nFor who can imagine that, when it flourished so much in that part of Italy\nwhich was called Magna Gr\u00e6cia, and in some of the largest and most\npowerful cities, in which, first the name of Pythagoras, and then that of\nthose men who were afterwards his followers, was in so high esteem; who\ncan imagine, I say, that our people could shut their ears to what was said\nby such learned men? Besides, it is even my opinion, that it was the great\nesteem in which the Pythagoreans were held, that gave rise to that opinion\namongst those who came after him, that king Numa was a Pythagorean. For,\nbeing acquainted with the doctrine and principles of Pythagoras, and\nhaving heard from their ancestors that this king was a very wise and just\nman, and not being able to distinguish accurately between times and\nperiods that were so remote, they inferred from his being so eminent for\nhis wisdom, that he had been a pupil of Pythagoras.\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; because\nthey have no connexion, with our present purpose. For, as it is reported\nto have been a custom with them to deliver certain precepts in a more\nabstruse manner in verse, and to bring their minds from severe thought to\na more composed state by songs and musical instruments; so Cato, a writer\nof the very highest authority, says in his Origins, that it was customary\nwith our ancestors for the guests at their entertainments, every one in\nhis turn, to celebrate the praises and virtues of illustrious men in song\nto the sound of the flute; from whence it is clear that poems and songs\nwere then composed for the voice. And, indeed, it is also clear that\npoetry was in fashion from the laws of the Twelve Tables, wherein it is\nprovided, that no song should be made to the injury of another. Another\nargument of the erudition of those times is, that they played on\ninstruments before the shrines of their Gods, and at the entertainments of\ntheir magistrates; but that custom was peculiar to the sect I am speaking\nof. To me, indeed, that poem of Appius C\u00e6cus, which Pan\u00e6tius commends so\nmuch in a certain letter of his which is addressed to Quintus Tubero, has\nall the marks of a Pythagorean author. We have many things derived from\nthe Pythagoreans in our customs; which I pass over, that we may not seem\nto have learned that elsewhere which we look upon ourselves as the\ninventors of. But to return to our purpose. How many great poets as well\nas orators have sprung up among us! and in what a short time! so that it\nis evident that our people could arrive at any learning as soon as they\nhad an inclination for it. But of other studies I shall speak elsewhere if\nthere 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 before\nthe age of L\u00e6lius and Scipio: in whose younger days we find that Diogenes\nthe Stoic, and Carneades the Academic, were sent as ambassadors by the\nAthenians to our senate. And as these had never been concerned in public\naffairs, and one of them was a Cyrenean, the other a Babylonian, they\ncertainly would never have been forced from their studies, nor chosen for\nthat employment, unless the study of philosophy had been in vogue with\nsome of the great men at that time; who, though they might employ their\npens on other subjects, some on civil law, others on oratory, others on\nthe history of former times, yet promoted this most extensive of all arts,\nthe principle of living well, even more by their life than by their\nwritings. So that of that true and elegant philosophy, (which was derived\nfrom Socrates, and is still preserved by the Peripatetics, and by the\nStoics, though they express themselves differently in their disputes with\nthe Academics,) there are few or no Latin records; whether this proceeds\nfrom the importance of the thing itself, or from men\u2019s being otherwise\nemployed, or from their concluding that the capacity of the people was not\nequal to the apprehension of them. But, during this silence, C. Amafinius\narose and took upon himself to speak; on the publishing of whose writings\nthe people 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 them.\nAnd after Amafinius, when many of the same sentiments had written much\nabout them, the Pythagoreans spread over all Italy: but that these\ndoctrines should be so easily understood and approved of by the unlearned,\nis a great proof that they were not written with any great subtlety, and\nthey think their establishment to be owing to this.\n\nIV. But let every one defend his own opinion, for every one is at liberty\nto choose what he likes; I shall keep to my old custom; and being under no\nrestraint from the laws of any particular school, which in philosophy\nevery one must necessarily confine himself to, I shall always inquire what\nhas the most probability in every question, and this system, which I have\noften practised on other occasions, I have adhered closely to in my\nTusculan Disputations. Therefore, as I have acquainted you with the\ndisputations of the three former days, this book shall conclude the\ndiscussion of the fourth day. When we had come down into the Academy, as\nwe had done the former days, the business was carried on thus.\n\n_M._ Let any one say, who pleases, what he would wish to have discussed.\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\u2019s discourse to be free from grief; unless you\nagreed with us only to avoid taking up time.\n\n_A._ Not at all on that account, for I was extremely satisfied with your\ndiscourse.\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 can.\nFor what? can such a man be disturbed by fear? Fear proceeds from the same\nthings when absent, which occasion grief when present. Take away grief\nthen, and you remove fear.\n\nThe two remaining perturbations are, a joy elate above measure, and lust;\nand, if a wise man is not subject to these, his mind will be always at\nrest.\n\n_A._ I am entirely of that opinion.\n\n_M._ Which, then, shall we do? shall I immediately crowd all my sails? or\nshall I make use of my oars, as if I were just endeavouring to get clear\nof the harbour?\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 in\ndefinitions 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 of\nit, but have no regard to their thorny partitions and definitions.\u2014My\nquestion, then, was, whether I should instantly unfold the sails of my\neloquence, or be content for a while to make less way with the oars of\nlogic?\n\n_A._ Let it be so; for by the employment of both these means the subject\nof our inquiry will be more thoroughly discussed.\n\n_M._ It is certainly the better way; and should anything be too obscure,\nyou may examine that afterwards.\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 endeavour to do so; but it well requires great\nattention, lest, by losing one word, the whole should escape you. What the\nGreeks call \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03b7, we choose to name perturbations (or disorders) rather\nthan diseases; in explaining which, I shall follow, first, that very old\ndescription of Pythagoras, and afterwards that of Plato; for they both\ndivide the mind into two parts, and make one of these partake of reason,\nand the other they represent without it. In that which partakes of reason\nthey place tranquillity, that is to say, a placid and undisturbed\nconstancy; to the other they assign the turbid motions of anger and\ndesire, which are contrary and opposite to reason. Let this, then, be our\nprinciple, the spring of all our reasonings. But notwithstanding, I shall\nuse the partitions and definitions of the Stoics in describing these\nperturbations; who seem to me to have shown very great acuteness on this\nquestion.\n\nVI. Zeno\u2019s definition, then, is this: \u201ca perturbation\u201d (which he calls a\n\u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2) \u201cis a commotion of the mind repugnant to reason, and against\nnature.\u201d Some of them define it even more briefly, saying that a\nperturbation is a somewhat too vehement appetite; but by too vehement they\nmean an appetite that recedes further from the constancy of nature. But\nthey would have the divisions of perturbations to arise from two imagined\ngoods, and from two imagined evils; and thus they become four: from the\ngood proceed lust and joy\u2014joy having reference to some present good, and\nlust to some future one. They suppose fear and grief to proceed from\nevils: fear from something future,\u2014grief from something present; for\nwhatever things are dreaded as approaching, always occasion grief when\npresent. But joy and lust depend on the opinion of good; as lust, being\ninflamed and provoked, is carried on eagerly towards what has the\nappearance of good; and joy is transported and exults on obtaining what\nwas desired: for we naturally pursue those things that have the appearance\nof good, and avoid the contrary. Wherefore, as soon as anything that has\nthe appearance of good presents itself, nature incites us to endeavour to\nobtain it. Now, where this strong desire is consistent and founded on\nprudence, it is by the Stoics called \u03b2\u03bf\u03cd\u03bb\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2, and the name which we give\nit is volition; and this they allow to none but their wise man, and define\nit thus: Volition is a reasonable desire; but whatever is incited too\nviolently in opposition to reason, that is a lust, or an unbridled desire,\nwhich is discoverable in all fools.\u2014And, therefore, when we are affected\nso as to be placed in any good condition, we are moved in two ways; for\nwhen the mind is moved in a placid and calm motion, consistent with\nreason, that is called joy; but when it exults with a vain, wanton\nexultation, or immoderate joy, then that feeling may be called immoderate\necstasy or transport, which they define to be an elation of the mind\nwithout reason.\u2014And as we naturally desire good things, so in like manner\nwe naturally seek to avoid what is evil; and this avoidance of which, if\nconducted in accordance with reason, is called caution; and this the wise\nman alone is supposed to have: but that caution which is not under the\nguidance of reason, but is attended with a base and low dejection, is\ncalled fear.\u2014Fear is, therefore, caution destitute of reason. But a wise\nman is not affected by any present evil; while the grief of a fool\nproceeds from being affected with an imaginary evil, by which his mind is\ncontracted and sunk, since it is not under the dominion of reason. This,\nthen, is the first definition, which makes grief to consist in a shrinking\nof the mind, contrary to the dictates of reason. Thus, there are four\nperturbations, and but three calm rational emotions; for grief has no\nexact opposite.\n\nVII. But they insist upon it that all perturbations depend on opinion and\njudgment; therefore they define them more strictly, in order not only the\nbetter to show how blameable they are, but to discover how much they are\nin our power. Grief, then is a recent opinion of some present evil, in\nwhich it seems to be right that the mind should shrink and be dejected.\nJoy is a recent opinion of a present good, in which it seems to be right\nthat the mind should be elated. Fear is an opinion of an impending evil,\nwhich we apprehend will be intolerable. Lust is an opinion of a good to\ncome, which would be of advantage were it already come, and present with\nus. But however I have named the judgments and opinions of perturbations,\ntheir meaning is, not that merely the perturbations consist in them, but\nthat the effects likewise of these perturbations do so; as grief occasions\na kind of painful pricking, and fear engenders a recoil or sudden\nabandonment of the mind; joy gives rise to a profuse mirth, while lust is\nthe parent of an unbridled habit of coveting. But that imagination, which\nI have included in all the above definitions, they would have to consist\nin assenting without warrantable grounds. Now, every perturbation has many\nsubordinate parts annexed to it of the same kind. Grief is attended with\nenviousness (_invidentia_)\u2014I use that word for instruction sake, though it\nis not so common; because envy (_invidia_) takes in not only the person\nwho envies, but the person too who is envied;\u2014emulation, detraction, pity,\nvexation, mourning, sadness, tribulation, sorrow, lamentation, solicitude,\ndisquiet of mind, pain, despair, and many other similar feelings, are so\ntoo. Under fear are comprehended sloth, shame, terror, cowardice,\nfainting, confusion, astonishment.\u2014In pleasure they comprehend\nmalevolence, that is pleased at another\u2019s misfortune, delight,\nboastfulness, and the like. To lust they associate anger, fury, hatred,\nenmity, discord, wants, desire, and other feelings of 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 to\nthe person who envies: for where any one grieves at the prosperity of\nanother, by which he is injured, such a one is not properly said to\nenvy,\u2014as when Agamemnon grieves at Hector\u2019s success; but where any one,\nwho is in no way hurt by the prosperity of another, is in pain at his\nsuccess, such an one envies indeed. Now the name \"emulation\" is taken in a\ndouble sense, so that the same word may stand for praise and dispraise:\nfor the imitation of virtue is called emulation\u2014(however, that sense of it\nI shall have no occasion for here, for that carries praise with it);\u2014but\nemulation is also a term applied to grief at another\u2019s enjoying what I\ndesired to have, and am without. Detraction (and I mean by that, jealousy)\nis a grief even at another\u2019s enjoying what I had a great inclination for.\nPity is a grief at the misery of another who suffers wrongfully; for no\none is moved by pity at the punishment of a parricide, or of a betrayer of\nhis country. Vexation is a pressing grief. Mourning is a grief at the\nbitter death of one who was dear to you. Sadness is a grief attended with\ntears. Tribulation is a painful grief. Sorrow, an excruciating grief.\nLamentation, a grief where we loudly bewail ourselves. Solicitude, a\npensive grief. Trouble, a continued grief. Affliction, a grief that\nharasses the body. Despair, a grief that excludes all hope of better\nthings to come. But those feelings which are included under fear, they\ndefine thus:\u2014There is sloth, which is a dread of some ensuing labour:\nshame and terror, which affect the body; hence blushing attends shame; a\npaleness, and tremor, and chattering of the teeth, attend terror:\ncowardice, which is an apprehension of some approaching evil: dread, a\nfear that unhinges the mind; whence comes that line of Ennius,\u2014\n\n\n    Then dread discharged all wisdom from my mind:\n\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 this\ndescription; so that malevolence is a pleasure in the misfortunes of\nanother, without any advantage to yourself: delight, a pleasure that\nsoothes the mind by agreeable impressions on the ear. What is said of the\near, may be applied to the sight, to the touch, smell, and taste. All\nfeelings of this kind are a sort of melting pleasure that dissolves the\nmind. Boastfulness is a pleasure that consists in making an appearance,\nand setting off yourself with insolence.\u2014The subordinate species of lust\nthey define in this manner. Anger is a lust of punishing any one who, as\nwe imagine, has injured us without cause. Heat is anger just forming and\nbeginning to exist, which the Greeks call \u03b8\u03cd\u03bc\u03c9\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2. Hatred is a settled\nanger. Enmity is anger waiting for an opportunity of revenge. Discord is a\nsharper anger conceived deeply in the mind and heart. Want, an insatiable\nlust. Regret is when one eagerly wishes to see a person who is absent. Now\nhere they have a distinction; so that with them regret is a lust conceived\non hearing of certain things reported of some one, or of many, which the\nGreeks call \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03b3\u03bf\u03c1\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1, or predicaments; as that they are in possession\nof riches and honours: but want is a lust for those very honours and\nriches.\u2014But these definers make intemperance the fountain of all these\nperturbations; which is an absolute revolt from the mind and right reason:\na state so averse to all rules of reason, that the appetites of the mind\ncan by no means be governed and restrained. As, therefore, temperance\nappeases these desires, making them obey right reason, and maintains the\nwell-weighed judgments of the mind; so intemperance, which is in\nopposition to this, inflames, confounds, and puts every state of the mind\ninto a violent motion. Thus, grief and fear, and every other perturbation\nof the mind, have their rise from intemperance.\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 bile;\nso the mind is deprived of its health, and disordered with sickness, from\na confusion of depraved opinions, that are in opposition to one another.\nFrom these perturbations arise, first, diseases, which they call \u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1;\nand also those feelings which are in opposition to these diseases, and\nwhich admit certain faulty distastes or loathings; then come sicknesses,\nwhich are called \u1f00\u03c1\u03c1\u03c9\u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 by the Stoics; and these two have their\nopposite aversions. Here the Stoics, especially Chrysippus, give\nthemselves unnecessary trouble to show the analogy which the diseases of\nthe mind have to those of the body: but, overlooking all that they say as\nof little consequence, I shall treat only of the thing itself. Let us then\nunderstand perturbation to imply a restlessness from the variety and\nconfusion 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 and\nsickness, and those aversions which are in opposition to these diseases\nand 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 instantly\napply to reason, as if it were a kind of Socratic medicine to heal this\ndesire, the evil glides into our veins, and cleaves to our bowels, and\nfrom thence proceeds a distemper or sickness, which, when it is of any\ncontinuance, is incurable, and the name of this disease is covetousness.\nIt is the same with other diseases; as the desire of glory, a passion for\nwomen, to which the Greeks give the name of \u03c6\u03b9\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03b1; and thus all other\ndiseases and sicknesses are generated. But those feelings, which are the\ncontrary of these, are supposed to have fear for their foundation, as a\nhatred of women, such as is displayed in the Woman-hater of Atilius: or\nthe hatred of the whole human species, as Timon is reported to have done,\nwhom they called the Misanthrope. Of the same kind is inhospitality; and\nall these diseases proceed from a certain dread of such things as they\nhate and avoid. But they define sickness of mind to be an overweening\nopinion, and that fixed and deeply implanted in the heart, of something as\nvery desirable, which is by no means so. What proceeds from aversion, they\ndefine thus: a vehement idea of something to be avoided, deeply implanted,\nand inherent in our minds, when there is no reason for avoiding it; and\nthis kind of opinion is a deliberate belief that one understands things of\nwhich one is wholly ignorant. Now, sickness of the mind has all these\nsubordinate divisions, avarice, ambition, fondness for women, obstinacy,\ngluttony, drunkenness, covetousness, and other similar vices. But avarice\nis a violent opinion about money, as if it were vehemently to be desired\nand sought after, which opinion is deeply implanted and inherent in our\nminds; and the definition of all the other similar feelings resembles\nthese. But the definitions of aversions are of this sort; inhospitality is\na vehement opinion, deeply implanted and inherent in your mind, that you\nshould avoid a stranger. Thus too the hatred of women, like that felt by\nHippolytus, is defined, and the hatred of the human species like that\ndisplayed by Timon.\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: some\nmen are more inclined to particular disorders than others. And, therefore,\nwe say, that some people are rheumatic, others dropsical, not because they\nare so at present, but because they are often so: some are inclined to\nfear, others to some other perturbation. Thus in some there is a continual\nanxiety, owing to which they are anxious; in some a hastiness of temper,\nwhich differs from anger, as anxiety differs from anguish: for all are not\nanxious who are sometimes vexed; nor are they who are anxious always\nuneasy in that manner: as there is a difference betwixt being drunk, and\ndrunkenness; and it is one thing to be a lover, another to be given to\nwomen. And this disposition of particular people to particular disorders\nis very common: for it relates to all perturbations; it appears in many\nvices, though it has no name: some are therefore said to be envious,\nmalevolent, spiteful, fearful, pitiful, from a propensity to those\nperturbations, not from their being always carried away by them. Now this\npropensity to these particular disorders may be called a sickness, from\nanalogy with the body; meaning, that is to say, nothing more than a\npropensity towards sickness. But with regard to whatever is good, as some\nare more inclined to different good qualities than others, we may call\nthis a facility or tendency: this tendency to evil is a proclivity or\ninclination to falling: but where anything is neither good nor bad, it may\nhave 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 disease\nwhere the whole body is corrupted: they call that sickness, where a\ndisease is attended with a weakness: and that a defect, where the parts of\nthe body are not well compacted together; from whence it follows, that the\nmembers are mis-shapen, crooked, and deformed. So that these two, a\ndisease and sickness, proceed from a violent concussion and perturbation\nof the health of the whole body; but a defect discovers itself, even when\nthe body is in perfect health. But a disease of the mind is\ndistinguishable only in thought from a sickness. But a viciousness is a\nhabit or affection discordant and inconsistent with itself through life.\nThus it happens, that in the one case a disease and sickness may arise\nfrom a corruption of opinions; in the other case the consequence may be\ninconstancy and inconsistency. For every vice of the mind does not imply a\ndisunion of parts; as is the case with those who are not far from being\nwise men: with them there is that affection which is inconsistent with\nitself whilst it is foolish, but it is not distorted, nor depraved. But\ndiseases and sicknesses are parts of viciousness: but it is a question\nwhether perturbations are parts of the same: for vices are permanent\naffections: perturbations are such as are restless; so that they cannot be\nparts of permanent ones. As there is some analogy between the nature of\nthe body and mind in evil, so is there in good: for the distinctions of\nthe body are beauty, strength, health, firmness, quickness of motion; the\nsame may be said of the mind. The body is said to be in a good state, when\nall those things on which health depends are consistent: the same may be\nsaid of the mind, when its judgments and opinions are not at variance with\none another. And this union is the virtue of the mind: which, according to\nsome people, is temperance itself; others make it consist in an obedience\nto the 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 is to\nbe found only in a wise man. But there is a certain soundness of mind,\nwhich even a fool may have, when the perturbation of his mind is removed\nby the care and management of his physicians. And, as what is called\nbeauty arises from an exact proportion of the limbs, together with a\ncertain sweetness of complexion, so the beauty of the mind consists in an\nequality and constancy of opinions and judgments, joined to a certain\nfirmness and stability, pursuing virtue, or containing within itself the\nvery essence of virtue. Besides, we give the very same names to the\nfaculties of the mind, as we do to the powers of the body, the nerves, and\nother powers of action. Thus the velocity of the body is called swiftness:\na praise which we ascribe to the mind, from its running over in its\nthoughts so many things in so short a time.\n\nXIV. Herein indeed the mind and body are unlike: that though the mind when\nin perfect health may be visited by sickness, as the body may, yet the\nbody may be disordered without our fault, the mind cannot. For all the\ndisorders and perturbations of the mind proceed from a neglect of reason;\nthese disorders, therefore, are confined to men; the beasts are not\nsubject to such perturbations, though they act sometimes as if they had\nreason. There is a difference, too, betwixt ingenious and dull men; the\ningenious, like the Corinthian brass, which is long before it receives\nrust, are longer before they fall into these perturbations, and are\nrecovered sooner: the case is different with the dull. Nor does the mind\nof an ingenious man fall into every kind of perturbation, for it never\nyields to any that are brutish and savage: and some of their perturbations\nhave at first even the appearance of humanity, as mercy, grief, and fear.\nBut the sicknesses and diseases of the mind are thought to be harder to\neradicate, than those leading vices which are in opposition to virtues:\nfor vices may be removed, though the diseases of the mind should continue,\nwhich diseases are not cured with that expedition with which vices are\nremoved. I have now acquainted you with the arguments which the Stoics put\nforth with such exactness: which they call logic, from their close\narguing; and since my discourse has got clear of these rocks, I will\nproceed with the remainder of it, provided I have been sufficiently clear\nin what I have already said, considering the obscurity of the subject I\nhave treated.\n\n_A._ Clear enough; but should there be occasion for a more exact inquiry,\nI shall take another opportunity of asking you: I expect you now to hoist\nyour sails as you just now called them, and proceed on your course.\n\nXV. _M._ Since I have spoken before of virtue in other places, and shall\noften have occasion to speak again (for a great many questions that relate\nto life and manners arise from the spring of virtue); and since, as I say,\nvirtue consists in a settled and uniform affection of mind, making those\npersons praiseworthy who are possessed of her; she herself also,\nindependent of anything else, without regard to any advantage, must be\npraiseworthy; for from her proceed good inclinations, opinions, actions,\nand the whole of right reason; though virtue may be defined in few words\nto be right reason itself. The opposite to this is viciousness (for so I\nchoose to translate what the Greeks call \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03af\u03b1, rather than by\nperverseness; for perverseness is the name of a particular vice; but\nviciousness includes all), from whence arise those perturbations, which,\nas I just now said, are turbid and violent motions of the mind, repugnant\nto reason, and enemies in a high degree to the peace of the mind, and a\ntranquil life: for they introduce piercing and anxious cares, and afflict\nand debilitate 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 sometimes\ncall desire, and sometimes lust; and which, should it even attain the\nobject of its wishes, immediately becomes so elated, that it loses all its\nresolution, and knows not what to pursue; so that he was in the right who\nsaid, \u201cthat exaggerated pleasure was the very greatest of mistakes.\u201d\nVirtue then alone can effect the cure of these evils.\n\nXVI. For what is not only more miserable, but more base and sordid, than a\nman afflicted, weakened, and oppressed with grief? And little short of\nthis misery is one who dreads some approaching evil, and who, through\nfaintheartedness, is under continual suspense. The poets, to express the\ngreatness of this evil, imagine a stone to hang over the head of Tantalus,\nas a punishment for his wickedness, his pride, and his boasting. And this\nis the common punishment of folly; for there hangs over the head of every\none whose mind revolts from reason some similar fear. And as these\nperturbations of the mind, grief and fear, are of a most wasting nature;\nso those two others, though of a more merry cast, (I mean lust, which is\nalways coveting something with eagerness, and empty mirth, which is an\nexulting joy,) differ very little from madness. Hence you may understand\nwhat sort of person he is whom we call at one time moderate, at another\nmodest or temperate, at another constant and virtuous; while sometimes we\ninclude all these names in the word frugality, as the crown of all. For if\nthat word did not include all virtues, it would never have been proverbial\nto say, that a frugal man does everything rightly; but when the Stoics\napply this saying to their wise man, they seem to exalt him too much, and\nto speak of him with too much admiration.\n\nXVII. Whoever, then, through moderation and constancy, is at rest in his\nmind, and in calm possession of himself, so as neither to pine with care,\nnor be dejected with fear, nor to be inflamed with desire, coveting\nsomething greedily, nor relaxed by extravagant mirth,\u2014such a man is that\nidentical wise man whom we are inquiring for, he is the happy man: to whom\nnothing in this life seems intolerable enough to depress him; nothing\nexquisite enough to transport him unduly. For what is there in this life\nthat can appear great to him, who has acquainted himself with eternity,\nand the utmost extent of the universe? For what is there in human\nknowledge, or the short span of this life, that can appear great to a wise\nman? whose mind is always so upon its guard, that nothing can befal him\nwhich is unforeseen, nothing which is unexpected, nothing, in short, which\nis new. Such a man takes so exact a survey on all sides of him, that he\nalways knows the proper place and spot to live in free from all the\ntroubles and annoyances of life, and encounters every accident that\nfortune can bring upon him with a becoming calmness. Whoever conducts\nhimself in this manner, will be free from grief, and from every other\nperturbation: and a mind free from these feelings renders men completely\nhappy: whereas a mind disordered and drawn off from right and unerring\nreason, loses at once, not only its resolution, but its health.\u2014Therefore\nthe thoughts and declarations of the Peripatetics are soft and effeminate,\nfor they say that the mind must necessarily be agitated, but at the same\ntime they lay down certain bounds beyond which that agitation is not to\nproceed. And do you set bounds to vice? or is it novice to disobey reason?\ndoes not reason sufficiently declare, that there is no real good which you\nshould desire too ardently, or the possession of which you should allow to\ntransport you: and that there is no evil that should be able to overwhelm\nyou, or the suspicion of which should distract you? and that all these\nthings assume too melancholy or too cheerful an appearance through our own\nerror? But if fools find this error lessened by time, so that, though the\ncause remains the same, they are not affected in the same manner, after\nsome time, as they were at first; why surely a wise man ought not to be\ninfluenced at all by it. But what are those degrees by which we are to\nlimit it? Let us fix these degrees in grief, a difficult subject, and one\nmuch canvassed.\u2014Fannius writes that P. Rutilius took it much to heart,\nthat his brother was refused the consulship: but he seems to have been too\nmuch affected by this disappointment; for it was the occasion of his\ndeath: he ought, therefore, to have borne it with more moderation. But let\nus suppose, that whilst he was bearing this with moderation, the death of\nhis children 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 body,\nthe loss of his fortune, blindness, banishment; supposing, then, each\nseparate misfortune to occasion a separate additional grief, the whole\nwould 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 stop\nhimself whenever he pleased. Now, as that is impossible, so a perturbed\nand disordered mind cannot restrain itself, and stop where it pleases.\nCertainly whatever is bad in its increase, is bad in its birth: now grief,\nand all other perturbations, are doubtless baneful in their progress, and\nhave therefore no small share of evil at the beginning; for they go on of\nthemselves when once they depart from reason, for every weakness is\nself-indulgent, and indiscreetly launches out, and does not know where to\nstop. So that it makes no difference whether you approve of moderate\nperturbations of mind, or of moderate injustice, moderate cowardice, and\nmoderate intemperance. For whoever prescribes bounds to vice, admits a\npart of it, which, as it is odious of itself, becomes the more so as it\nstands on slippery ground, and being once set forward, glides on headlong,\nand 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 purpose?\nThey usually talk in this manner. In the first place, they say much in\npraise of anger; they call it the whetstone of courage, and they say that\nangry men exert themselves most against an enemy or against a bad citizen:\nthat those reasons are of little weight which are the motives of men who\nthink thus, as,\u2014It is a just war, it becomes us to fight for our laws, our\nliberties, our country; they will allow no force to these arguments unless\nour courage is warmed by anger.\u2014Nor do they confine their argument to\nwarriors: but their opinion is, that no one can issue any rigid commands\nwithout some bitterness and anger. In short, they have no notion of an\norator either accusing or even defending a client, without he is spurred\non by anger. And though this anger should not be real, still they think\nhis words and gestures ought to wear the appearance of it, so that the\naction of the orator may excite the anger of his hearer. And they deny\nthat any man has ever been seen, who does not know what it is to be angry:\nand they name what we call lenity, by the bad appellation of indolence:\nnor do they commend only this lust, (for anger is, as I defined it above,\nthe lust of revenge,) but they maintain that kind of lust or desire to be\ngiven us by nature for very good purposes: saying that no one can execute\nanything well but what he is in earnest about. Themistocles used to walk\nin the public places in the night, because he could not sleep: and when\nasked the reason, his answer was, that Miltiades\u2019 trophies kept him awake.\nWho has not heard how Demosthenes used to watch; who said that it gave him\npain, if any mechanic was up in a morning at his work before him? Lastly,\nthey urge that some of the greatest philosophers would never have made\nthat progress in their studies, without some ardent desire spurring them\non.\u2014We are informed that Pythagoras, Democritus, and Plato, visited the\nremotest parts of the world; for they thought that they ought to go\nwhereever anything was to be learned. Now it is not conceivable that these\nthings could be effected by anything but by the greatest ardour 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 had\ncommitted a fault, well knowing they had exposed themselves to correction,\nrebuke, and ignominy. For they think that those who can bear ignominy and\ninfamy without pain, have acquired a complete impunity for all sorts of\ncrimes: for with them, reproach is a stronger check than conscience. From\nwhence we have that scene in Afranius, borrowed from common life; for when\nthe abandoned son saith, Wretched that I am! the severe father replies,\n\n\n    Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.\n\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 envy\nand detraction are not without their use; as when a man sees that another\nperson has attained what he cannot, or observes another to be equally\nsuccessful with himself: that he who should take away fear, would take\naway all industry in life; which those men exert in the greatest degree\nwho are afraid of the laws and of the magistrates, who dread poverty,\nignominy, death, and pain. But while they argue thus, they allow indeed of\nthese feelings being retrenched, though they deny that they either can, or\nshould be plucked up by the roots: so that their opinion is that\nmediocrity is best in everything. When they reason in this manner, what\nthink you? is what they say worth attending to or not?\n\n_A._ I think it is; I wait, therefore, to hear what you will say in reply\nto them.\n\nXXI. _M._ Perhaps I may find something to say,\u2014but 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 Peripatetics\nare answered by the Stoics; they have my leave to fight it out; who think\nmyself no otherwise concerned than to inquire for what may seem to be most\nprobable. Our present business is, then, to see if we can meet with\nanything in this question which is the probable, for beyond such\napproximation to truth as that human nature cannot proceed. The definition\nof a perturbation, as Zeno, I think, has rightly determined it, is thus:\nThat a perturbation is a commotion of the mind against nature, in\nopposition to right reason; or more briefly thus, that a perturbation is a\nsomewhat too vehement appetite; and when he says somewhat too vehement, he\nmeans such as is at a greater distance from the constant course of nature.\nWhat can I say to these definitions? the greater part of them we have from\nthose who dispute with sagacity and acuteness: some of them expressions,\nindeed, such as the \u201cardours of the mind,\u201d and \u201cthe whetstones of virtue,\u201d\nsavouring of the pomp of rhetoricians. As to the question, if a brave man\ncan maintain his courage without becoming angry; it may be questioned with\nregard to the gladiators: though we often observe much resolution even in\nthem; they meet, converse, they make objections and demands, they agree\nabout terms, so that they seem calm rather than angry. But let us admit a\nman of the name of Placideianus, who was one of that trade, to be in such\na mind, as Lucilius relates of him,\n\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\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 is\nrepresented by Homer,(98) trembling condemned himself for having\nchallenged him to fight. Yet these heroes conversed together, calmly and\nquietly, before they engaged; nor did they show any anger or outrageous\nbehaviour during the combat. Nor do I imagine that Torquatus, the first\nwho obtained this surname, was in a rage when he plundered the Gaul of his\ncollar: or that Marcellus\u2019 courage at Clastidium was only owing to his\nanger. I could almost swear, that Africanus, with whom we are better\nacquainted, from our recollection of him being more recent, was no ways\ninflamed by anger, when he covered Alienus Pelignus with his shield, and\ndrove his sword into the enemy\u2019s breast. There may be some doubt of L.\nBrutus, whether he was not influenced by extraordinary hatred of the\ntyrant, so as to attack Aruns with more than usual rashness; for I observe\nthat they mutually killed each other in close fight. Why, then, do you\ncall in the assistance of anger? would courage, unless it began to get\nfurious, lose its energy? What? do you imagine that Hercules, whom the\nvery courage which you would try to represent as anger raised to heaven,\nwas angry when he engaged the Erymanthian boar, or the Nemean lion? or was\nTheseus in a passion when he seized on the horns of the Marathonian bull?\nTake care how you make courage to depend in the least on rage. For anger\nis altogether irrational, 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 looked\non with indifference; pains and labours must be considered as easily\nsupportable. And when these sentiments are established on judgment and\nconviction, then will that stout and firm courage take place: unless you\nattribute to anger whatever is done with vehemence, alacrity, and spirit.\nTo me, indeed, that very Scipio(99) who was chief priest, that favourer of\nthe saying of the Stoics, \u201cthat no private man could be a wise man,\u201d does\nnot seem to be angry with Tiberius Gracchus, even when he left the consul\nin a hesitating frame of mind, and, though a private man himself,\ncommanded, with the authority of a consul, that all who meant well to the\nrepublic should follow him. I do not know whether I have done anything in\nthe republic that has the appearance of courage; but if I have, I\ncertainly did not do it in wrath. Doth anything come nearer madness than\nanger? And indeed Ennius has well defined it as the beginning of madness.\nThe changing colour, the alteration of our voice, the look of our eyes,\nour manner of fetching our breath, the little command we have over our\nwords and actions, how little do all these things indicate a sound mind!\nWhat can make a worse appearance than Homer\u2019s Achilles, or Agamemnon,\nduring the quarrel. And as to Ajax, anger drove him into downright\nmadness, and was the occasion of his death. Courage, therefore, does not\nwant the assistance of anger; it is sufficiently provided, armed, and\nprepared of itself. We may as well say that drunkenness, or madness, are\nof service to courage, because those who are mad or drunk often do a great\nmany things with unusual vehemence. Ajax was always brave, but still he\nwas most brave when he was in that state of frenzy:\n\n\n    The greatest feat that Ajax e\u2019er 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\u2019engage.\n\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 mind,\nthat endures all things, being itself in proper subjection to the highest\nof all laws; or, it may be called a firm maintenance of judgment in\nsupporting or repelling everything that has a formidable appearance, or a\nknowledge of what is formidable or otherwise, and maintaining invariably a\nstable judgment of all such things, so as to bear them, or despise them;\nor, in fewer words according to Chrysippus: (for the above definitions are\nSph\u00e6rus\u2019s, a man of the first ability as a layer down of definitions, as\nthe Stoics think: but they are all pretty much alike, they give us only\ncommon notions, some one way, and some another.) But what is Chrysippus\u2019s\ndefinition? Fortitude, says he, is the knowledge of all things that are\nbearable: or an affection of the mind, which bears and supports everything\nin obedience to the chief law of reason, without fear. Now, though we\nshould attack these men in the same manner as Carneades used to do, I fear\nthey are the only real philosophers: for which of these definitions is\nthere which does not explain that obscure and intricate notion of courage\nwhich every man conceives within himself? And when it is thus explained,\nwhat can a warrior, a commander, or an orator, want more? and no one can\nthink that they will be unable to behave themselves courageously without\nanger. What? do not even the Stoics, who maintain that all fools are mad,\nmake the same inferences? for, take away perturbations, especially a\nhastiness of temper, and they will appear to talk very absurdly. But what\nthey assert is this: they say that all fools are mad, as all dunghills\nstink; not that they always do so, but stir them, and you will perceive\nit. And in like manner, a warm-tempered man is not always in a passion;\nbut provoke him, and you will see him run mad. Now, that very warlike\nanger, which is of such service in war, what is the use of it to him when\nhe is at home with his wife, children, and family? Is there, then,\nanything that a disturbed mind can do better than one which is calm and\nsteady? or can any one be angry without a perturbation of mind? Our\npeople, then, were in the right, who, as all vices depend on our manners,\nand nothing is worse than a passionate disposition, called angry men the\nonly morose men.(100)\n\nXXV. Anger is in no wise becoming in an orator, though it is not amiss to\naffect it. Do you imagine that I am angry when in pleading I use any\nextraordinary vehemence and sharpness? What? when I write out my speeches\nafter all is over and past, am I then angry while writing? or do you think\n\u00c6sopus was ever angry when he acted, or Accius was so when he wrote? Those\nmen, indeed, act very well, but the orator acts better than the player,\nprovided he be really an orator; but then they carry it on without\npassion, and with a composed mind. But what wantonness is it to commend\nlust? You produce Themistocles and Demosthenes; to these you add\nPythagoras, Democritus, and Plato. What, do you then call studies lust?\nBut these studies of the most excellent and admirable things, such as\nthose were which you bring forward on all occasions, ought to be composed\nand tranquil; and what kind of philosophers are they who commend grief,\nthan which nothing is more detestable? Afranius has said much to this\npurpose\u2014\n\n\n    Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause.\n\n\nBut he spoke this of a debauched and dissolute youth; but we are inquiring\ninto the conduct of a constant and wise man. We may even allow a\ncenturion, or standard-bearer, to be angry, or any others, whom, not to\nexplain too far the mysteries of the rhetoricians, I shall not mention\nhere; for to touch the passions, where reason cannot be come at, may have\nits use; but my inquiry, as I often repeat, is about a wise man.\n\nXXVI. But even envy, detraction, pity, have their use. Why should you pity\nrather than assist, if it is in your power to do so? Is it because you\ncannot be liberal without pity? We should not take sorrows on ourselves\nupon another\u2019s account; but we ought to relieve others of their grief if\nwe can. But to detract from another\u2019s reputation, or to rival him with\nthat vicious emulation, which resembles an enmity, of what use can that\nconduct be? Now envy implies being uneasy at another\u2019s good because one\ndoes not enjoy it oneself; but detraction is the being uneasy at another\u2019s\ngood, merely because he enjoys it. How can it be right that you should\nvoluntarily grieve, rather than take the trouble of acquiring what you\nwant to have; for it is madness in the highest degree to desire to be the\nonly one that has any particular happiness. But who can with correctness\nspeak in praise of a mediocrity of evils? Can any one in whom there is\nlust or desire, be otherwise than libidinous or desirous? or can a man who\nis occupied by anger avoid being angry? or can one who is exposed to any\nvexation escape being vexed? or if he is under the influence of fear, must\nhe not be fearful? Do we look, then, on the libidinous, the angry, the\nanxious, and the timid man, as persons of wisdom, of excellence? of which\nI could speak very copiously and diffusely, but I wish to be as concise as\npossible. And so I will merely say that wisdom is an acquaintance with all\ndivine and human affairs, and a knowledge of the cause of everything.\nHence it is, that it imitates what is divine, and looks upon all human\nconcerns as inferior to virtue. Did you, then, say that it was your\nopinion that such a man was as naturally liable to perturbation as the sea\nis exposed to winds? What is there that can discompose such gravity and\nconstancy? Anything sudden or unforeseen? How can anything of this kind\nbefal 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 must\nbe entirely plucked up and destroyed, not pared and amputated. But as I\nsuspect that your inquiry is not so much respecting the wise man as\nconcerning 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 diseases\nof the mind. There is certainly some remedy; nor has nature been so unkind\nto the human race, as to have discovered so many things salutary to the\nbody, and none which are medicinal to the mind. She has even been kinder\nto the mind than to the body; inasmuch as you must seek abroad for the\nassistance which the body requires; while the mind has all that it\nrequires within itself. But in proportion as the excellency of the mind is\nof a higher and more divine nature, the more diligence does it require;\nand therefore reason, when it is well applied, discovers what is best, but\nwhen it is neglected it becomes involved in many errors. I shall apply,\nthen, all my discourse to you; for though you pretend to be inquiring\nabout the wise man, your inquiry may possibly be about yourself. Various,\nthen, are the cures of those perturbations which I have expounded, for\nevery disorder is not to be appeased the same way;\u2014one medicine must be\napplied to the man who mourns, another to the pitiful, another to the\nperson who envies, for there is this difference to be maintained in all\nthe four perturbations; we are to consider whether our discourse had\nbetter be directed to perturbations in general, which are a contempt of\nreason, or a somewhat too vehement appetite; or whether it would be better\napplied to particular descriptions, as, for instance, to fear, lust, and\nthe rest, and whether it appears preferable to endeavour to remove that\nwhich has occasioned the grief, or rather to attempt wholly to eradicate\nevery kind of grief. As, should any one grieve that he is poor, the\nquestion is, would you maintain poverty to be no evil, or would you\ncontend that a man ought not to grieve at anything? Certainly this last is\nthe best course; for should you not convince him with regard to poverty,\nyou must allow him to grieve; but if you remove grief by particular\narguments, such as I used yesterday, the evil of poverty is in some manner\nremoved.\n\nXXVIII. But any perturbation of the mind of this sort may be, as it were,\nwiped away by this method of appeasing the mind, if you succeed in showing\nthat there is no good in that which has given rise to joy and lust, nor\nany evil in that which has occasioned fear or grief. But certainly the\nmost effectual cure is to be achieved by showing that all perturbations\nare of themselves vicious, and have nothing natural or necessary in them.\nAs we see grief itself is easily softened when we charge those who grieve\nwith weakness and an effeminate mind; or when we commend the gravity and\nconstancy of those who bear calmly whatever befals them here, as accidents\nto which all men are liable; and, indeed, this is generally the feeling of\nthose who look on these as real evils, but yet think they should be borne\nwith resignation. One imagines pleasure to be a good, another money; and\nyet the one may be called off from intemperance, the other from\ncovetousness. The other method and address, which, at the same time that\nit removes the false opinion, withdraws the disorder, has more subtilty in\nit; but it seldom succeeds, and is not applicable to vulgar minds, for\nthere are some diseases which that medicine can by no means remove. For,\nshould any one be uneasy because he is without virtue, without courage,\ndestitute of a sense of duty, or honesty; his anxiety proceeds from a real\nevil, and yet we must apply another method of cure to him; and such a one\nas all the philosophers, however they may differ about other things, agree\nin. For they must necessarily agree in this, that commotions of the mind\nin opposition to right reason are vicious; and that even admitting those\nthings to be evils, which occasion fear or grief, and those to be goods\nwhich provoke desire or joy, yet that very commotion itself is vicious;\nfor we mean by the expressions magnanimous and brave, one who is resolute,\nsedate, grave, and superior to everything in this life: but one who either\ngrieves, or fears, or covets, or is transported with passion, cannot come\nunder that denomination; for these things are consistent only with those\nwho look on the things of this world as things with which their minds are\nunequal to contend.\n\nXXIX. Wherefore, as I before said, the philosophers have all one method of\ncure, so that we need say nothing about what sort of thing that is which\ndisturbs the mind, but we must speak only concerning the perturbation\nitself. Thus, first, with regard to desire itself, when the business is\nonly to remove that the inquiry is not to be, whether that thing be good\nor evil which provokes lust, but the lust itself is to be removed; so that\nwhether whatever is honest is the chief good, or whether it consists in\npleasure, or in both these things together, or in the other three kinds of\ngoods, yet should there be in any one too vehement an appetite for even\nvirtue itself, the whole discourse should be directed to the deterring him\nfrom that vehemence. But human nature, when placed in a conspicuous point\nof view, gives us every argument for appeasing the mind, and to make this\nthe more distinct, the laws and conditions of life should be explained in\nour discourse. Therefore, it was not without reason that Socrates is\nreported, when Euripides was exhibiting his play called Orestes, to have\nrepeated the first three verses of that tragedy\u2014\n\n\n    What tragic story men can mournful tell,\n    Whate\u2019er from fate or from the gods befel,\n    That human nature can support\u2014\u2014(101)\n\n\nBut, in order to persuade those to whom any misfortune has happened, that\nthey can and ought to bear it, it is very useful to set before them an\nenumeration of other persons who have borne similar calamities. Indeed,\nthe method of appeasing grief was explained in my dispute of yesterday,\nand in my book on Consolation, which I wrote in the midst of my own grief;\nfor I was not myself so wise a man as to be insensible to grief, and I\nused this, notwithstanding Chrysippus\u2019s advice to the contrary, who is\nagainst applying a medicine to the agitations of the mind while they are\nfresh; but I did it, and committed a violence on nature, that the\ngreatness of my grief might give way to the greatness of the medicine.\n\nXXX. But fear borders upon grief, of which I have already said enough; but\nI must say a little more on that. Now, as grief proceeds from what is\npresent, so does fear from future evil; so that some have said that fear\nis a certain part of grief: others have called fear the harbinger of\ntrouble, which, as it were, introduces the ensuing evil. Now, the reasons\nthat make what is present supportable, make what is to come very\ncontemptible; for, with regard to both, we should take care to do nothing\nlow or grovelling, soft or effeminate, mean or abject. But,\nnotwithstanding we should speak of the inconstancy, imbecility, and levity\nof fear itself, yet it is of very great service to speak contemptuously of\nthose very things of which we are afraid. So that it fell out very well,\nwhether it was by accident or design, that I disputed the first and second\nday on death and pain,\u2014the two things that are the most dreaded: now, if\nwhat I then said was approved of, we are in a great degree freed from\nfear. And this is sufficient, as far as regards the opinion of evils.\n\nXXXI. Proceed we now to what are goods\u2014that is to say, to joy and desire.\nTo me, indeed, one thing alone seems to embrace the question of all that\nrelates to the perturbations of the mind\u2014the fact, namely, that all\nperturbations are in our own power; that they are taken up upon opinion,\nand are voluntary. This error, then, must be got rid of; this opinion must\nbe removed: and, as with regard to imagined evils, we are to make them\nmore supportable, so with respect to goods, we are to lessen the violent\neffects of those things which are called great and joyous. But one thing\nis to be observed, that equally relates both to good and evil: that,\nshould it be difficult to persuade any one that none of those things which\ndisturb the mind are to be looked on as good or evil, yet a different cure\nis to be applied to different feelings; and the malevolent person is to be\ncorrected by one way of reasoning, the lover by another, the anxious man\nby another, and the fearful by another: and it would be easy for any one\nwho pursues the best approved method of reasoning, with regard to good and\nevil, to maintain that no fool can be affected with joy, as he never can\nhave anything good. But, at present, my discourse proceeds upon the common\nreceived notions. Let, then, honours, riches, pleasures, and the rest, be\nthe very good things which they are imagined to be; yet a too elevated and\nexulting joy on the possession of them is unbecoming; just as though it\nmight be allowable to laugh, to giggle would be indecent. Thus, a mind\nenlarged by joy is as blameable as a contraction of it by grief; and eager\nlonging is a sign of as much levity in desiring as immoderate joy is in\npossessing; and, as those who are too dejected are said to be effeminate,\nso they who are too elated with joy are properly called volatile; and as\nfeeling envy is a part of grief, and the being pleased with another\u2019s\nmisfortune is a kind of joy both these feelings are usually corrected by\nshowing the wildness and insensibility of them: and as it becomes a man to\nbe cautious, but it is unbecoming in him to be fearful; so to be pleased\nis proper, but to be joyful improper. I have, in order that I might be the\nbetter understood, distinguished pleasure from joy. I have already said\nabove, that a contraction of the mind can never be right, but that an\nelation of it may; for the joy of Hector in N\u00e6vius is one thing,\u2014\n\n\n    \u2019Tis joy indeed to hear my praises sung\n    By you, who are the theme of honour\u2019s tongue:\n\n\nbut that of the character in Trabea another:\u2014\u201cThe kind procuress, allured\nby my money, will observe my nod, will watch my desires, and study my\nwill. If I but move the door with my little finger, instantly it flies\nopen; and if Chrysis should unexpectedly discover me, she will run with\njoy to meet me, and throw herself into my arms.\u201d\n\nNow he will tell you how excellent he thinks this:\u2014\n\n\n    Not even fortune herself is so fortunate.\n\n\nXXXII. Any one who attends the least to the subject will be convinced how\nunbecoming this joy is. And as they are very shameful who are immoderately\ndelighted with the enjoyment of venereal pleasures, so are they very\nscandalous who lust vehemently after them. And all that which is commonly\ncalled love (and, believe me, I can find out no other name to call it by)\nis of such a trivial nature that nothing, I think, is to be compared to\nit: of which C\u00e6cilius says\u2014\n\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\u2019er 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\n\nAn excellent corrector of life this same poetry, which thinks that love,\nthe promoter of debauchery and vanity, should have a place in the council\nof the Gods! I am speaking of comedy, which could not subsist at all\nwithout our approving of these debaucheries. But what said that chief of\nthe Argonauts in tragedy?\u2014\n\n\n    My life I owe to honour less than love\n\n\nWhat, then, are we to say of this love of Medea?\u2014what a train of miseries\ndid it occasion! and yet the same woman has the assurance to say to her\nfather, in another poet, that she had a husband\u2014\n\n\n    Dearer by love than ever fathers were.\n\n\nXXXIII. However, we may allow the poets to trifle, in whose fables we see\nJupiter himself engaged in these debaucheries: but let us apply to the\nmasters of virtue,\u2014the philosophers who deny love to be anything carnal;\nand in this they differ from Epicurus, who, I think, is not much mistaken.\nFor what is that lore of friendship? How comes it that no one is in love\nwith a deformed young man, or a handsome old one? I am of opinion that\nthis love of men had its rise from the Gymnastics of the Greeks, where\nthese kinds of loves are admissible and permitted; therefore Ennius spoke\nwell:\u2014\n\n\n    The censure of this crime to those is due,\n    Who naked bodies first exposed to view.\n\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 allowed\nmore liberty, who can misunderstand the poets in their rape of Ganymede,\nor not apprehend what Laius says, and what he desires, in Euripides?\nLastly, what have the principal poets and the most learned men published\nof themselves in their poems and songs? What doth Alc\u00e6us, who was\ndistinguished in his own republic for his bravery, write on the love of\nyoung men? and as for Anacreon\u2019s poetry, it is wholly on love. But Ibycus\nof Rhegium appears, from his writings, to have had this love stronger on\nhim than all the rest.\n\nXXXIV. Now we see that the loves of all these writers were entirely\nlibidinous. There have arisen also some amongst us philosophers (and Plato\nis at the head of them, whom Dic\u00e6archus blames not without reason), who\nhave countenanced love. The Stoics in truth say, not only that their wise\nman may be a lover, but they even define love itself as an endeavour to\noriginate friendship out of the appearance of beauty. Now, provided there\nis any one in the nature of things without desire, without care, without a\nsigh,\u2014such a one may be a lover; for he is free from all lust: but I have\nnothing to say to him, as it is lust of which I am now speaking. But\nshould there be any love,\u2014as there certainly is,\u2014which, is but little, or\nperhaps not at all, short of madness, such as his is in the Leucadia,\u2014\n\n\n    Should there be any God whose care I am:\n\n\nit is incumbent on all the Gods to see that he enjoys his amorous\npleasure.\n\n\n    Wretch that I am!\n\n\nNothing is more true, and he says very appropriately\u2014\n\n\n    What, are you sane, who at this rate lament?\n\n\nHe seems even to his friends to be out of his senses: then how tragical he\nbecomes!\n\n\n    Thy aid, divine Apollo, I implore,\n    And thine, dread ruler of the wat\u2019ry store!\n    Oh! all ye winds, assist me!\n\n\nHe thinks that the whole world ought to apply itself to help his love: he\nexcludes Venus alone as unkind to him.\n\n\n    Thy aid, O Venus, why should I invoke?\n\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 shameful\nthings from lust.\n\nXXXV. Now the cure for one who is affected in this manner, is to show, how\nlight, how contemptible, how very trifling he is in what he desires; how\nhe may turn his affections to another object, or accomplish his desires by\nsome other means; or else to persuade him that he may entirely disregard\nit; sometimes he is to be led away to objects of another kind, to study,\nbusiness, or other different engagements and concerns: very often the cure\nis effected by change of place, as sick people, that have not recovered\ntheir strength, are benefited by change of air. Some people think an old\nlove may be driven out by a new one, as one nail drives out another: but\nabove all things the man thus afflicted should be advised what madness\nlove is: for of all the perturbations of the mind, there is not one which\nis more vehement; for, (without charging it with rapes, debaucheries,\nadultery, or even incest, the baseness of any of these being very\nblameable; 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 looked\nupon as indifferent argue?\n\n\n    Affronts and jealousies, jars, squabbles, wars,\n    Then peace again.\u2014The 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\u2019d try to lay down rules by which\n    Men should go mad.(102)\n\n\nNow is not this inconstancy and mutability of mind enough to deter any one\nby 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 if\nlove were natural, all would be in love, and always so, and all love the\nsame object; nor would one be deterred by shame, another by reflection,\nanother by satiety.\n\nXXXVI. Anger, too, when it disturbs the mind any time, leaves no room to\ndoubt its being madness: by the instigation of which, we see such\ncontention as this between brothers:\n\n\n    Where was there ever impudence like thine?\n    Who on thy malice ever could refine?(103)\n\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 for\nhis brother:\n\n\n    I who his cruel heart to gall am bent,\n    Some new, unheard-of torment must invent.\n\n\nNow what were these inventions? Hear Thyestes.\n\n\n    My impious brother fain would have me eat\n    My children, and thus serves them up for meat.\n\n\nTo what length now will not anger go? even as far as madness. Therefore we\nsay properly enough, that angry men have given up their power, that is,\nthey are out of the power of advice, reason, and understanding: for these\nought to have power over the whole mind. Now you should put those out of\nthe way, whom they endeavour to attack, till they have recollected\nthemselves; but what does recollection here imply, but getting together\nagain the dispersed parts of their mind into their proper place? or else\nyou must beg and entreat them, if they have the means of revenge, to defer\nit to another opportunity, till their anger cools. But the expression of\ncooling implies, certainly, that there was a heat raised in their minds in\nopposition to reason: from which consideration that saying of Archytas is\ncommended: who being somewhat provoked at his steward, \u201cHow would I have\ntreated you,\u201d said he, \u201cif I had not been in a passion?\u201d\n\nXXXVII. Where, then, are they who say that anger has its use? Can madness\nbe of any use? But still it is natural. Can anything be natural that is\nagainst reason? or how is it, if anger is natural, that one person is more\ninclined to anger than another? or that the lust of revenge should cease\nbefore it has revenged itself? or that any one should repent of what he\nhad done in a passion? as we see that Alexander the king did, who could\nscarcely keep his hands from himself, when he had killed his favourite\nClytus: so great was his compunction! Now who, that is acquainted with\nthese instances, can doubt that this motion of the mind is altogether in\nopinion and voluntary? for who can doubt that disorders of the mind, such\nas covetousness, and a desire of glory, arise from a great estimation of\nthose things, by which the mind is disordered? from whence we may\nunderstand, that every perturbation of the mind is founded in opinion.\n\nAnd if boldness, that is to say, a firm assurance of mind, is a kind of\nknowledge and serious opinion, not hastily taken up: then diffidence is a\nfear of an expected and impending evil: and if hope is an expectation of\ngood, fear must of course be an expectation of evil. Thus fear and other\nperturbations are evils. Therefore as constancy proceeds from knowledge,\nso does perturbation 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 kind;\ntheir minds are constitutionally, as it were, in bad health, yet they are\ncurable, as the disposition of Socrates is said to have been; for when\nZopyrus, who professed to know the character of every one from his person,\nhad heaped a great many vices on him in a public assembly, he was laughed\nat by others, who could perceive no such vices in Socrates; but Socrates\nkept him in countenance, by declaring that such vices were natural to him,\nbut that he had got the better of them by his reason. Therefore, as any\none who has the appearance of the best constitution, may yet appear to be\nnaturally rather inclined to some particular disorder, so different minds\nmay be more particularly inclined to different diseases. But as to those\nmen who are said to be vicious, not by nature, but their own fault; their\nvices proceed from wrong opinions of good and bad things, so that one is\nmore prone than another to different motions and perturbations. But, just\nas it is in the case of the body, an inveterate disease is harder to be\ngot rid of than a sudden disorder; and it is more easy to cure a fresh\ntumour in the eyes, than to remove a defluxion of any continuance.\n\nXXXVIII. But as the cause of perturbations is now discovered, for all of\nthem arise from the judgment or opinion, or volition, I shall put an end\nto this discourse. But we ought to be assured, since the boundaries of\ngood and evil are now discovered, as far as they are discoverable by man,\nthat nothing can be desired of philosophy greater, or more useful, than\nthe discussions which we have held these four days. For besides instilling\na contempt of death, and relieving pain so as to enable men to bear it; we\nhave added the appeasing of grief, than which there is no greater evil to\nman. For though every perturbation of mind is grievous, and differs but\nlittle from madness: yet we are used to say of others, when they are under\nany perturbation, as of fear, joy, or desire, that they are agitated and\ndisturbed; but of those who give themselves up to grief, that they are\nmiserable, afflicted, wretched, unhappy. So that it doth not seem to be by\naccident, but with reason proposed by you, that I should discuss grief,\nand the other perturbations separately; for there lies the spring and head\nof all our miseries: but the cure of grief, and of other disorders, is one\nand the same, in that they are all voluntary, and founded on opinion; we\ntake them on ourselves because it seems right so to do. Philosophy\nundertakes to eradicate this error, as the root of all our evils: let us\ntherefore surrender ourselves to be instructed by it, and suffer ourselves\nto be cured; for whilst these evils have possession of us, we not only\ncannot be happy, but cannot be right in our minds. We must either deny\nthat reason can effect anything, while, on the other hand, nothing can be\ndone right without reason; or else, since philosophy depends on the\ndeductions of reason, we must seek from her, if we would be good or happy,\nevery help and assistance for living well and happily.\n\n\n\n\nBook V. Whether Virtue Alone Be Sufficient For A Happy Life.\n\n\nI. This fifth day, Brutus, shall put an end to our Tusculan Disputations:\non which day we discussed your favourite subject. For I perceive from that\nbook which you wrote for me, with the greatest accuracy, as well as from\nyour frequent conversation, that you are clearly of this opinion, that\nvirtue is of itself sufficient for a happy life: and though it may be\ndifficult to prove this, on account of the many various strokes of\nfortune, yet it is a truth of such a nature, that we should endeavour to\nfacilitate the proof of it. For among all the topics of philosophy, there\nis not one of more dignity or importance. For as the first philosophers\nmust have had some inducement, to neglect everything for the search of the\nbest state of life: surely, the inducement must have been the hope of\nliving happily, which impelled them to devote so much care and pains to\nthat study. Now, if virtue was discovered and carried to perfection by\nthem; and if virtue is a sufficient security for a happy life: who can\navoid thinking the work of philosophising excellently recommended by them,\nand undertaken by me? But if virtue, as being subject to such various and\nuncertain accidents, were but the slave of fortune, and were not of\nsufficient ability to support herself; I am afraid that it would seem\ndesirable rather 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, when\nI reflect on those troubles, with which I have been so severely exercised\nby fortune, I begin to distrust this opinion; and sometimes even to dread\nthe weakness and frailty of human nature, for I am afraid lest, when\nnature had given us infirm bodies, and had joined to them incurable\ndiseases, and intolerable pains, she perhaps also gave us minds\nparticipating in these bodily pains, and harassed also with troubles and\nuneasinesses, peculiarly their own. But here I correct myself, for forming\nmy judgment of the power of virtue more from the weakness of others, or of\nmyself perhaps, than from virtue itself: for she herself (provided there\nis such a thing as virtue, and your uncle Brutus has removed all doubt of\nit) has everything that can befal mankind in subjection to her; and by\ndisregarding such things, she is far removed from being at all concerned\nat human accidents; and, being free from every imperfection, she thinks\nthat nothing which is external to herself can concern her. But we, who\nincrease every approaching evil by our fear, and every present one by our\ngrief, choose rather to condemn 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 and\ndesire led me, from my earliest youth upwards, to seek her protection; so,\nunder my present misfortunes, I have had recourse to the same port from\nwhence I set out, after having been tossed by a violent tempest. O\nPhilosophy, thou guide of life! thou discoverer of virtue, and expeller of\nvices! what had not only I myself, but the whole life of man been without\nyou? To you it is that we owe the origin of cities; you it was who called\ntogether the dispersed race of men into social life; you united them\ntogether, first, by placing them near one another, then by marriages, and\nlastly, by the communication of speech and languages. You have been the\ninventress of laws; you have been our instructress in morals and\ndiscipline: to you we fly for refuge; from you we implore assistance; and\nas I formerly submitted to you in a great degree, so now I surrender up\nmyself entirely to you. For one day spent well, and agreeably to your\nprecepts, is preferable to an eternity of error. Whose assistance, then,\ncan be of more service to me than yours, when you have bestowed on us\ntranquillity of life, and removed the fear of death? But Philosophy is so\nfar from being praised as much as she has deserved by mankind, that she is\nwholly neglected by most men, and actually evil spoken of by many. Can any\nperson speak ill of the parent of life, and dare to pollute himself thus\nwith parricide! and be so impiously ungrateful as to accuse her, whom he\nought to reverence, even were he less able to appreciate the advantages\nwhich he might derive from her? But this error, I imagine, and this\ndarkness, has spread itself over the minds of ignorant men, from their not\nbeing able to look so far back, and from their not imagining that those\nmen by whom human life was first improved, were philosophers: for though\nwe see philosophy 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 in\nfact or name? for it acquired this excellent name from the ancients, by\nthe knowledge of the origin and causes of everything, both divine and\nhuman. Thus those seven \u03a3\u03cc\u03c6\u03bf\u03b9, as they were considered and called by the\nGreeks, have always been esteemed and called wise men by us: and thus\nLycurgus many ages before, in whose time, before the building of this\ncity, Homer is said to have lived, as well as Ulysses and Nestor in the\nheroic ages, are all handed down to us by tradition as having really been\nwhat they were called, wise men; nor would it have been said that Atlas\nsupported the heavens, or that Prometheus was bound to Caucasus, nor would\nCepheus, with his wife, his son-in-law, and his daughter, have been\nenrolled among the constellations, but that their more than human\nknowledge of the heavenly bodies had transferred their names into an\nerroneous fable. From whence, all who occupied themselves in the\ncontemplation of nature, were both considered and called, wise men: and\nthat name of theirs continued to the age of Pythagoras, who is reported to\nhave gone to Phlius, as we find it stated by Heraclides Ponticus, a very\nlearned man, and a pupil of Plato, and to have discoursed very learnedly\nand copiously on certain subjects, with Leon, prince of the Phliasii\u2014and\nwhen Leon, admiring his ingenuity and eloquence, asked him what art he\nparticularly professed; his answer was, that he was acquainted with no\nart, but that he was a philosopher. Leon, surprised at the novelty of the\nname, inquired what he meant by the name of philosopher, and in what\nphilosophers differed from other men: on which Pythagoras replied, \u201cThat\nthe life of man seemed to him to resemble those games, which were\ncelebrated with the greatest possible variety of sports, and the general\nconcourse of all Greece. For as in those games there were some persons\nwhose object was glory, and the honour of a crown, to be attained by the\nperformance of bodily exercises: so others were led thither by the gain of\nbuying and selling, and mere views of profit: but there was likewise one\nclass of persons, and they were by far the best, whose aim was neither\napplause nor profit, but who came merely as spectators through curiosity,\nto observe 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 this\none, just as men come out of some other city, to some much frequented\nmart; some being slaves to glory, others to money; and there are some few\nwho, taking no account of anything else, earnestly look into the nature of\nthings: and these men call themselves studious of wisdom, that is,\nphilosophers; and as there it is the most reputable occupation of all to\nbe a looker-on, without making any acquisition, so in life, the\ncontemplating things, and acquainting oneself with them, greatly exceeds\nevery other pursuit of life.\u201d\n\nIV. Nor was Pythagoras the inventor only of the name, but he enlarged also\nthe thing itself, and, when he came into Italy after this conversation at\nPhlius, he adorned that Greece, which is called Great Greece, both\nprivately and publicly, with the most excellent institutions and arts; but\nof his school and system, I shall, perhaps, find another opportunity to\nspeak. But numbers and motions, and the beginning and end of all things,\nwere the subjects of the ancient philosophy down to Socrates, who was a\npupil of Archelaus, who had been the disciple of Anaxagoras. These made\ndiligent inquiry into the magnitude of the stars, their distances,\ncourses, and all that relates to the heavens. But Socrates was the first\nwho brought down philosophy from the heavens, placed it in cities,\nintroduced it into families, and obliged it to examine into life and\nmorals, and good and evil. And his different methods of discussing\nquestions, together with the variety of his topics, and the greatness of\nhis abilities, being immortalized by the memory and writings of Plato,\ngave rise to many sects of philosophers of different sentiments: of all\nwhich I have principally adhered to that one which, in my opinion,\nSocrates himself followed; and argue so as to conceal my own opinion,\nwhile I deliver others from their errors, and so discover what has the\ngreatest appearance of probability in every question. And the custom\nCarneades adopted with great copiousness and acuteness, and I myself have\noften given in to it on many occasions elsewhere, and in this manner, too,\nI disputed lately, in my Tusculan villa; indeed I have sent you a book of\nthe four former days\u2019 discussions; but the fifth day, when we had seated\nourselves as before, what we were to dispute on was proposed thus:\u2014\n\nV. _A._ I do not think virtue can possibly be sufficient for a happy life.\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 happy\nlife?\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 will\nyou deny that any one who you allow lives well, must inevitably live\nhappily?\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 mean\nwith constancy, and dignity, and wisdom, and courage; for a man may\ndisplay all these qualities on the rack; but yet the rack is inconsistent\nwith a happy life.\n\n_M._ What then? is your happy life left on the outside of the prison,\nwhilst constancy, dignity, wisdom, and the other virtues, are surrendered\nup to the executioner, and bear punishment and pain without reluctance?\n\n_A._ You must look out for something new, if you would do any good. These\nthings have very little effect on me, not merely from their being common,\nbut principally because, like certain light wines, that will not bear\nwater, these arguments of the Stoics are pleasanter to taste than to\nswallow. As when that assemblage of virtues is committed to the rack, it\nraises so reverend a spectacle before our eyes, that happiness seems to\nhasten on towards them, and not to suffer them to be deserted by her. But\nwhen you take your attention off from this picture and these images of the\nvirtues, to the truth and the reality, what remains without disguise is,\nthe question whether any one can be happy in torment? Wherefore let us now\nexamine that point, and not be under any apprehensions, lest the virtues\nshould expostulate and complain, that they are forsaken by happiness. For\nif prudence is connected with every virtue, then prudence itself discovers\nthis, that all good men are not therefore happy; and she recollects many\nthings of Marcus Atilius,(104) Quintus C\u00e6pio,(105) Marcus Aquilius;(106)\nand prudence herself, if these representations are more agreeable to you\nthan the things themselves, restrains happiness, when it is endeavouring\nto throw itself into torments, and denies that it has any connexion with\npain and torture.\n\nVI. _M._ I can easily bear with your behaving in this manner, though it is\nnot fair in you to prescribe to me, how you would have me carry on this\ndiscussion; but I ask you if I have effected anything or nothing in the\npreceding 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 an\nend to.\n\n_A._ How so?\n\n_M._ Because turbulent motions and violent agitations of the mind, when it\nis raised and elated by a rash impulse, getting the better of reason,\nleave no room for a happy life. For who that fears either pain or death,\nthe one of which is always present, the other always impending, can be\notherwise than miserable? Now supposing the same person, which is often\nthe case, to be afraid of poverty, ignominy, infamy, or weakness, or\nblindness; or lastly, slavery, which doth not only befal individual men,\nbut often even the most powerful nations; now can any one under the\napprehension of these evils be happy? What shall we say of him who not\nonly dreads these evils as impending, but actually feels and bears them at\npresent? Let us unite in the same person, banishment, mourning, the loss\nof children; now how can any one who is broken down and rendered sick in\nbody and mind by such affliction be otherwise than very miserable indeed?\nWhat reason again can there be, why a man should not rightly enough be\ncalled miserable, whom we see inflamed and raging with lust, coveting\neverything with an insatiable desire, and in proportion as he derives more\npleasure from anything, thirsting the more violently after them? And as to\na man vainly elated, exulting with an empty joy, and boasting of himself\nwithout reason, is not he so much the more miserable in proportion as he\nthinks himself happier? Therefore, as these men are miserable, so on the\nother hand those are happy, who are alarmed by no fears, wasted by no\ngriefs, provoked by no lusts, melted by no languid pleasures that arise\nfrom vain and exulting joys. We look on the sea as calm when not the least\nbreath of air disturbs its waves; and in like manner the placid and quiet\nstate of the mind is discovered when unmoved by any perturbation. Now if\nthere be any one who holds the power of fortune, and everything human,\neverything that can possibly befal any man, as supportable, so as to be\nout of the reach of fear or anxiety; and if such a man covets nothing, and\nis lifted up by no vain joy of mind, what can prevent his being happy? and\nif these are the effects of virtue, why cannot virtue itself make men\nhappy?\n\nVII. _A._ But the other of these two propositions is undeniable, that they\nwho are under no apprehensions, who are no ways uneasy, who covet nothing,\nwho are lifted up by no vain joy, are happy: and therefore I grant you\nthat; but as for the other, that is not now in a fit state for discussion;\nfor it has been proved by your former arguments that a wise man is free\nfrom 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 have\nbefore taught relates to their present subject, they take that for granted\nwhich has been already proved; and explain only what they had not written\non before. But the philosophers, whatever subject they have in hand, get\ntogether everything that relates to it; notwithstanding they may have\ndilated on it somewhere else. Were not that the case, why should the\nStoics say so much on that question, whether virtue was abundantly\nsufficient to a happy life? when it would have been answer enough, that\nthey had before taught, that nothing was good but what was honourable; for\nas this had been proved, the consequence must be, that virtue was\nsufficient to a happy life: and each premise may be made to follow from\nthe admission of the other, so that if it be admitted that virtue is\nsufficient to secure a happy life, it may also be inferred that nothing is\ngood except what is honourable. They however do not proceed in this\nmanner; for they would separate books about what is honourable, and what\nis the chief good: and when they have demonstrated from the one that\nvirtue has power enough to make life happy, yet they treat this point\nseparately; for everything, and especially a subject of such great\nconsequence, should be supported by arguments and exhortations which\nbelong to that alone. For you should have a care how you imagine\nphilosophy to have uttered anything more noble, or that she has promised\nanything more fruitful or of greater consequence: for, good Gods! doth she\nnot engage, that she will render him who submits to her laws so\naccomplished as to be always armed against fortune, and to have every\nassurance within himself of living well and happily; that he shall, in\nshort, be for ever happy. But let us see what she will perform? In the\nmeanwhile I look upon it as a great thing, that she has even made such a\npromise. For Xerxes, who was loaded with all the rewards and gifts of\nfortune, not satisfied with his armies of horse and foot, nor the\nmultitude of his ships, nor his infinite treasure of gold, offered a\nreward to any one who could find out a new pleasure: and yet, when it was\ndiscovered, he was not satisfied with it, nor can there ever be an end to\nlust. I wish we could engage any one by a reward, to produce something the\nbetter to establish us in this belief.\n\nVIII. _A._ I wish that indeed myself; but I want a little information. For\nI allow, that in what you have stated, the one proposition is the\nconsequence of the other; that as, if what is honourable be the only good,\nit must follow, that a happy life is the effect of virtue: so that if a\nhappy life consists in virtue, nothing can be good but virtue. But your\nfriend Brutus, on the authority of Aristo and Antiochus, does not see\nthis: for he thinks the case would be the same, even if there were\nanything good besides virtue.\n\n_M._ What then? do you imagine that I am going to argue against Brutus?\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: for\nI frequently discussed that point with Antiochus, and lately with Aristo,\nwhen, during the period of my command as general, I was lodging with him\nat Athens. For to me it seemed that no one could possibly be happy under\nany evil: but a wise man might be afflicted with evil, if there are any\nthings arising from body or fortune, deserving the name of evils. These\nthings were said, which Antiochus has inserted in his books in many\nplaces: that virtue itself was sufficient to make life happy, but yet not\nperfectly happy: and that many things derive their names from the\npredominant portion of them, though they do not include everything, as\nstrength, health, riches, honour, and glory: which qualities are\ndetermined by their kind, not their number: thus a happy life is so called\nfrom its being so in a great degree, even though it should fall short in\nsome point. To clear this up, is not absolutely necessary at present,\nthough it seems to be said without any great consistency: for I cannot\nimagine what is wanting to one that is happy, to make him happier, for if\nanything be wanting to him he cannot be so much as happy; and as to what\nthey say, that everything is named and estimated from its predominant\nportion, that may be admitted in some things. But when they allow three\nkinds of evils; when any one is oppressed with every imaginable evil of\ntwo kinds, being afflicted with adverse fortune, and having at the same\ntime his body worn out and harassed with all sorts of pains, shall we say\nthat such a one is but little short of a happy life, to say nothing about\nthe happiest possible life?\n\nIX. This is the point which Theophrastus was unable to maintain: for after\nhe had once laid down the position, that stripes, torments, tortures, the\nruin of one\u2019s country, banishment, the loss of children, had great\ninfluence on men\u2019s living miserably and unhappily, he durst not any longer\nuse any high and lofty expressions, when he was so low and abject in his\nopinion. How right he was is not the question; he certainly was\nconsistent. Therefore I am not for objecting to consequences where the\npremises are admitted. But this most elegant and learned of all the\nphilosophers, is not taken to task very severely when he asserts his three\nkinds of good; but he is attacked by every one for that book which he\nwrote on a happy life, in which book he has many arguments, why one who is\ntortured and racked cannot be happy. For in that book he is supposed to\nsay, that a man who is placed on the wheel, (that is a kind of torture in\nuse among the Greeks,) cannot attain to a completely happy life. He\nnowhere, indeed, says so absolutely, but what he says amounts to the same\nthing. Can I, then, find fault with him; after having allowed, that pains\nof the body are evils, that the ruin of a man\u2019s fortunes is an evil, if he\nshould say that every good man is not happy, when all those things which\nhe reckons as evils may befal a good man? The same Theophrastus is found\nfault with by all the books and schools of the philosophers, for\ncommending that sentence in his Callisthenes:\n\n\n    Fortune, not wisdom, rules the life of man.\n\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 body,\nand so many foreign to it that depend on chance and fortune, is it\ninconsistent to say that fortune, which governs everything, both what is\nforeign and what belongs to the body, has greater power than counsel. Or\nwould we rather imitate Epicurus? who is often excellent in many things\nwhich he speaks, but quite indifferent how consistent he may be, or how\nmuch to the purpose he is speaking. He commends spare diet, and in that he\nspeaks as a philosopher; but it is for Socrates or Antisthenes to say so,\nand not for one who confines all good to pleasure. He denies that any one\ncan live pleasantly unless he lives honestly, wisely, and justly. Nothing\nis more dignified than this assertion, nothing more becoming a\nphilosopher, had he not measured this very expression of living honestly,\njustly, and wisely, by pleasure. What could be better than to assert that\nfortune interferes but little with a wise man? But does he talk thus, who\nafter he has said that pain is the greatest evil, or the only evil, might\nhimself be afflicted with the sharpest pains all over his body, even at\nthe time he is vaunting himself the most against fortune? And this very\nthing, too, Metrodorus has said, but in better language: \u201cI have\nanticipated you, Fortune; I have caught you, and cut off every access, so\nthat you cannot possibly reach me.\u201d This would be excellent in the mouth\nof Aristo 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,\u2014for you\nto say so, who define the chief good by a strong constitution of body, and\na well assured hope of its continuance,\u2014for you to cut off every access of\nfortune? Why, you may instantly be deprived of that good. Yet the simple\nare taken with these propositions, and a vast crowd is led away by such\nsentences 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 which\nwe have adopted in this discussion, namely, that every good man is always\nhappy; it is clear what I mean by good men: I call those both wise and\ngood men, who are provided and adorned with every virtue. Let us see,\nthen, who are to be called happy. I imagine, indeed, that those men are to\nbe called so, who are possessed of good without any alloy of evil: nor is\nthere any other notion connected with the word that expresses happiness,\nbut an absolute enjoyment of good without any evil. Virtue cannot attain\nthis, if there is anything good besides itself: for a crowd of evils would\npresent themselves, if we were to allow poverty, obscurity, humility,\nsolitude, the loss of friends, acute pains of the body, the loss of\nhealth, weakness, blindness, the ruin of one\u2019s country, banishment,\nslavery, to be evils: for a wise man may be afflicted by all these evils,\nnumerous and important as they are, and many others also may be added; for\nthey are brought on by chance, which may attack a wise man: but if these\nthings are evils, who can maintain that a wise man is always happy, when\nall these evils may light on him at the same time? I therefore do not\neasily agree with my friend Brutus, nor with our common masters, nor those\nancient ones, Aristotle, Speusippus, Xenocrates, Polemon, who reckon all\nthat I have mentioned above as evils, and yet they say that a wise man is\nalways happy; nor can I allow them, because they are charmed with this\nbeautiful and illustrious title, which would very well become Pythagoras,\nSocrates, and Plato, to persuade my mind, that strength, health, beauty,\nriches, honours, power, with the beauty of which they are ravished, are\ncontemptible, and that all those things which are the opposites of these\nare not to be regarded. Then might they declare openly, with a loud voice,\nthat neither the attacks of fortune, nor the opinion of the multitude, nor\npain, nor poverty, occasion them any apprehensions; and that they have\neverything within themselves, and that there is nothing whatever which\nthey consider as good but what is within their own power. Nor can I by any\nmeans allow the same person, who falls into the vulgar opinion of good and\nevil, to make use of these expressions, which can only become a great and\nexalted man. Struck with which glory, up starts Epicurus, who, with\nsubmission to the Gods, thinks a wise man always happy. He is much charmed\nwith the dignity of this opinion, but he never would have owned that, had\nhe attended to himself: for what is there more inconsistent, than for one\nwho could say that pain was the greatest or the only evil, to think also\nthat a wise man can possibly say in the midst of his torture, How sweet is\nthis! We are not, therefore, to form our judgment of philosophers from\ndetached sentences, 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 are\nnot inconsistent yourself.\n\n_M._ In what respect?\n\n_A._ Because I have lately read your fourth book on Good and Evil: and in\nthat you appeared to me, while disputing against Cato, to be endeavouring\nto show, which in my opinion means to prove, that Zeno and the\nPeripatetics differ only about some new words; but if we allow that, what\nreason can there be, if it follows from the arguments of Zeno, that virtue\ncontains all that is necessary to a happy life, that the Peripatetics\nshould not be at liberty to say the same? For, in my opinion, regard\nshould 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 opinion\nof Zeno and his pupil Aristo be true, that nothing is good but what is\nhonourable; but, admitting that, then, whether the whole of a happy life\ncan be rested on virtue alone. Wherefore, if we certainly grant Brutus\nthis, that a wise man is always happy, how consistent he is, is his own\nbusiness: for who indeed is more worthy than himself of the glory of that\nopinion? Still we may maintain that such a man is more happy than any one\nelse.\n\nXII. Though Zeno the Citti\u00e6an, a stranger and an inconsiderable coiner of\nwords, appears to have insinuated himself into the old philosophy; still\nthe prevalence of this opinion is due to the authority of Plato, who often\nmakes use of this expression, \u201cthat nothing but virtue can be entitled to\nthe name of good,\u201d agreeably to what Socrates says in Plato\u2019s Gorgias; for\nit is there related that when some one asked him if he did not think\nArchelaus the son of Perdiccas, who was then looked upon as a most\nfortunate person, a very happy man: \u201cI do not know,\u201d replied he, \u201cfor I\nnever conversed with him.\u201d \u201cWhat, is there no other way you can know it\nby?\u201d \u201cNone at all.\u201d \u201cYou cannot, then, pronounce of the great king of the\nPersians, whether he is happy or not?\u201d \u201cHow can I, when I do not know how\nlearned or how good a man he is?\u201d \u201cWhat! do you imagine that a happy life\ndepends on that?\u201d \u201cMy opinion entirely is, that good men are happy, and\nthe wicked miserable.\u201d \u201cIs Archelaus, then, miserable?\u201d \u201cCertainly, if\nunjust.\u201d Now does it not appear to you, that he is here placing the whole\nof a happy life in virtue alone? But what does the same man say in his\nfuneral oration? \u201cFor,\u201d saith he, \u201cwhoever has everything that relates to\na happy life so entirely dependent on himself as not to be connected with\nthe good or bad fortune of another, and not to be affected by, or made in\nany degree uncertain by, what befals another; and whoever is such a one\nhas acquired the best rule of living; he is that moderate, that brave,\nthat wise man, who submits to the gain and loss of everything, and\nespecially of his children, and obeys that old precept; for he will never\nbe too joyful or too sad, because he depends entirely upon himself.\u201d\n\nXIII. From Plato, therefore, all my discourse shall be deduced, as if from\nsome sacred and hallowed fountain. Whence can I, then, more properly begin\nthan from nature, the parent of all? For whatsoever she produces (I am not\nspeaking only of animals, but even of those things which have sprung from\nthe earth in such a manner as to rest on their own roots) she designed it\nto be perfect in its respective kind. So that among trees and vines, and\nthose lower plants and trees which cannot advance themselves high above\nthe earth, some are evergreen, others are stripped of their leaves in\nwinter, and, warmed by the spring season, put them out afresh, and there\nare none of them but what are so quickened by a certain interior motion,\nand their own seeds enclosed in every one, so as to yield flowers, fruit,\nor berries, that all may have every perfection that belongs to it,\nprovided no violence prevents it. But the force of nature itself may be\nmore easily discovered in animals, as she has bestowed sense on them. For\nsome animals 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 what\nwas bestowed on it, and unable to change its manner of life. And as every\nanimal has from nature something that distinguishes it, which every one\nmaintains and never quits; so man has something far more excellent, though\neverything is said to be excellent by comparison. But the human mind,\nbeing derived from the divine reason, can be compared with nothing but\nwith the Deity itself, if I may be allowed the expression. This, then, if\nit is improved, and when its perception is so preserved as not to be\nblinded by errors, becomes a perfect understanding, that is to say,\nabsolute reason, which is the very same as virtue. And if everything is\nhappy which wants nothing, and is complete and perfect in its kind, and\nthat is the peculiar lot of virtue; certainly all who are possessed of\nvirtue are happy. And in this I agree with Brutus, and also with\nAristotle, Xenocrates, Speusippus, Polemon.\n\nXIV. To me such are the only men who appear completely happy; for what can\nhe want to a complete happy life who relies on his own good qualities, or\nhow can he be happy who does not rely on them? But he who makes a\nthreefold division of goods must necessarily be diffident, for how can he\ndepend on having a sound body, or that his fortune shall continue? but no\none can be happy without an immovable, fixed, and permanent good. What,\nthen, is this opinion of theirs? So that I think that saying of the\nSpartan may be applied to them, who, on some merchant\u2019s boasting before\nhim, that he had despatched ships to every maritime coast, replied, that a\nfortune which depended on ropes was not very desirable. Can there be any\ndoubt that whatever may be lost, cannot be properly classed in the number\nof those things which complete a happy life? for of all that constitutes a\nhappy life, nothing will admit of withering, or growing old, or wearing\nout, or decaying; for whoever is apprehensive of any loss of these things\ncannot be happy; the happy man should be safe, well fenced, well\nfortified, out of the reach of all annoyance, not like a man under\ntrifling apprehensions, but free from all such. As he is not called\ninnocent who but slightly offends, but he who offends not at all; so it is\nhe alone who is to be considered without fear who is free from all fear,\nnot he who is but in little fear. For what else is courage but an\naffection of mind, that is ready to undergo perils, and patient in the\nendurance of pain and labour without any alloy of fear? Now this certainly\ncould not be the case, if there were anything else good but what depended\non honesty alone. But how can any one be in possession of that desirable\nand much-coveted security (for I now call a freedom from anxiety a\nsecurity, on which freedom a happy life depends) who has, or may have, a\nmultitude of evils attending him? How can he be brave and undaunted, and\nhold everything as trifles which can befal a man, for so a wise man should\ndo, unless he be one who thinks that everything depends on himself? Could\nthe Laced\u00e6monians without this, when Philip threatened to prevent all\ntheir 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 we\nare inquiring after, than to meet with a whole city of such men? Now, if\nto this courage I am speaking of we add temperance, that it may govern all\nour feelings and agitations, what can be wanting to complete his happiness\nwho is secured by his courage from uneasiness and fear; and is prevented\nfrom immoderate desires and immoderate insolence of joy, by temperance? I\ncould easily show that virtue is able to produce these effects, but that I\nhave 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 immoderate\njoy and lust arise from a mistake about what is good, and as all these\nfeelings are in opposition to reason and counsel; when you see a man at\nease, quite free and disengaged from such troublesome commotions, which\nare so much at variance with one another can you hesitate to pronounce\nsuch an one a happy man? Now the wise man is always in such a disposition,\ntherefore the wise man is always happy. Besides, every good is pleasant;\nwhatever is pleasant may he boasted and talked of; whatever may he boasted\nof, is glorious, but whatever is glorious is certainly laudable, and\nwhatever is laudable doubtless, also, honourable; whatever, then, is good\nis honourable; (but the things which they reckon as goods, they themselves\ndo not call honourable;) therefore what is honourable alone is good. Hence\nit follows that a happy life is comprised in honesty alone. Such things,\nthen, are not to be called or considered goods, when a man may enjoy an\nabundance of them, and yet be most miserable. Is there any doubt but that\na man who enjoys the best health, and who has strength and beauty, and his\nsenses flourishing in their utmost quickness and perfection; suppose him\nlikewise, if you please, nimble and active, nay, give him riches, honours,\nauthority, power, glory; now, I say, should this person, who is in\npossession of all these, be unjust, intemperate, timid, stupid, or an\nidiot, could you hesitate to call such an one miserable? What, then, are\nthose goods, in the possession of which you may be very miserable? Let us\nsee if a happy life is not made up of parts of the same nature, as a heap\nimplies a quantity of grain of the same kind. And if this be once\nadmitted, happiness must be compounded of different good things which\nalone are honourable; if there is any mixture of things of another sort\nwith these, nothing honourable can proceed from such a composition; now,\ntake away honesty, and how can you imagine anything happy? For whatever is\ngood is desirable on that account; whatever is desirable must certainly be\napproved of; whatever you approve of must be looked on as acceptable and\nwelcome. You must consequently impute dignity to this; and if so, it must\nnecessarily be laudable; therefore, everything that is laudable is good.\nHence it follows, that what is honourable is the only good. And should we\nnot look upon it in this light, there will be a great many things which we\nmust 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 amongst goods; for what is good\nis not attainable by all. I pass over notoriety, and popular fame, raised\nby the united voice of knaves and fools. Even things which are absolute\nnothings may be called goods; such as white teeth, handsome eyes, a good\ncomplexion, and what was commended by Euryclea, when she was washing\nUlysses\u2019s feet, the softness of his skin and the mildness of his\ndiscourse. If you look on these as goods, what greater encomiums can the\ngravity of a philosopher be entitled to than the wild opinion of the\nvulgar and the thoughtless crowd? The Stoics give the name of excellent\nand choice to what the others call good: they call them so, indeed; but\nthey do not allow them to complete a happy life. But these others think\nthat there is no life happy without them; or, admitting it to be happy,\nthey deny it to be the most happy. But our opinion is, that it is the most\nhappy; and we prove it from that conclusion of Socrates. For thus that\nauthor of philosophy argued: that as the disposition of a man\u2019s mind is,\nso is the man: such as the man is, such will be his discourse: his actions\nwill correspond with his discourse, and his life with his actions. But the\ndisposition of a good man\u2019s mind is laudable; the life, therefore, of a\ngood man is laudable: it is honourable, therefore, because laudable: the\nunavoidable conclusion from which is, that the life of good men is happy.\nFor, good Gods! did I not make it appear, by my former arguments,\u2014or was I\nonly amusing myself and killing time in what I then said,\u2014that the mind of\na wise man was always free from every hasty motion which I call a\nperturbation, and that the most undisturbed peace always reigned in his\nbreast? A man, then, who is temperate and consistent, free from fear or\ngrief, and uninfluenced by any immoderate joy or desire, cannot be\notherwise than happy: but a wise man is always so, therefore he is always\nhappy. Moreover, how can a good man avoid referring all his actions and\nall his 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.\u2014And this is the\nunavoidable 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 boasted\nof; as Epaminondas saith,\u2014\n\n\n    The wings of Sparta\u2019s pride my counsels clipt.\n\n\nAnd Africanus boasts,\u2014\n\n\n    Who, from beyond M\u00e6otis to the place\n    Where the sun rises, deeds like mine can trace?\n\n\nIf, then, there is such a thing as a happy life, it is to be gloried in,\nspoken of, and commended by the person who enjoys it: for there is nothing\nexcepting that which can be spoken of, or gloried in; and when that is\nonce admitted, you know what follows. Now, unless an honourable life is a\nhappy life, there must of course be something preferable to a happy life:\nfor that which is honourable, all men will certainly grant to be\npreferable to anything else. And thus there will be something better than\na happy life; but what can be more absurd than such an assertion? What!\nwhen they grant vice to be effectual to the rendering life miserable, must\nthey not admit that there is a corresponding power in virtue to make life\nhappy? For contraries follow from contraries. And here I ask, what weight\nthey think there is in the balance of Critolaus, who, having put the goods\nof the mind into one scale, and the goods of the body and other external\nadvantages into the other, thought the goods of the mind outweighed the\nothers so far, that they would require the whole earth and sea to equalise\nthe 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, virtue\nwould be absolutely lost. For whoever is subject to grief, must\nnecessarily be subject to fear too; for fear is an uneasy apprehension of\nfuture grief: and whoever is subject to fear is liable to dread, timidity,\nconsternation, cowardice. Therefore, such a person may, some time or\nother, be defeated, and not think himself concerned with that precept of\nAtreus,\u2014\n\n\n    And let men so conduct themselves in life,\n    As to be always strangers to defeat.\n\n\nBut such a man, as I have said, will be defeated; and not only defeated,\nbut made a slave of. But we would have virtue always free, always\ninvincible; and were it not so, there would be an end of virtue. But if\nvirtue has in herself all that is necessary for a good life, she is\ncertainly sufficient for happiness: virtue is certainly sufficient, too,\nfor our living with courage; if with courage, then with a magnanimous\nspirit, and indeed so as never to be under any fear, and thus to be always\ninvincible.\u2014Hence it follows, that there can be nothing to be repented of,\nno wants, no lets or hindrances. Thus all things will be prosperous,\nperfect, and as you would have them; and consequently happy: but virtue is\nsufficient for living with courage, and therefore virtue is able by\nherself to make life happy. For as folly, even when possessed of what it\ndesires, never thinks it has acquired enough: so wisdom is always\nsatisfied with the present, and never repents on her own account.\n\nXIX. Look but on the single consulship of L\u00e6lius,\u2014and 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 he\ndisappointed by a vain people); but the point is, would you prefer, were\nit in your power, to be once such a consul as L\u00e6lius, or be elected four\ntimes, like Cinna? I have no doubt in the world what answer you will make,\nand it is on that account I put the question to you.\n\nI would not ask every one this question; for some one perhaps might answer\nthat he would not only prefer four consulates to one, but even one day of\nCinna\u2019s life to whole ages of many famous men. L\u00e6lius would have suffered\nhad he but touched any one with his finger; but Cinna ordered the head of\nhis colleague consul, Cn. Octavius, to be struck off; and put to death P.\nCrassus(107) and L. C\u00e6sar,(108) those excellent men, so renowned both at\nhome and abroad; and even M. Antonius,(109) the greatest orator whom I\never heard; and C. C\u00e6sar, who seems to me to have been the pattern of\nhumanity, politeness, sweetness of temper, and wit. Could he, then, be\nhappy who occasioned the death of these men? So far from it, that he seems\nto be miserable, not only for having performed these actions, but also for\nacting in such a manner, that it was lawful for him to do it, though it is\nunlawful for any one to do wicked actions; but this proceeds from\ninaccuracy of speech, for we call whatever a man is allowed to do,\nlawful.\u2014Was not Marius happier, I pray you, when he shared the glory of\nthe victory gained over the Cimbrians with his colleague Catulus (who was\nalmost another L\u00e6lius, for I look upon the two men as very like one\nanother,) than when, conqueror in the civil war, he in a passion answered\nthe friends of Catulus, who were interceding for him, \"Let him die\"? And\nthis answer he gave, not once only, but often. But in such a case, he was\nhappier who submitted to that barbarous decree than he who issued it. And\nit is better 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, and\ndisgrace 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 government.\nHow beautiful and how wealthy a city did he oppress with slavery! And yet\nwe have it from good authority, that he was remarkably temperate in his\nmanner of living, that he was very active and energetic in carrying on\nbusiness, but naturally mischievous and unjust; from which description,\nevery one who diligently inquires into truth must inevitably see that he\nwas very miserable. Neither did he attain what he so greatly desired, even\nwhen he was persuaded that he had unlimited power; for, notwithstanding he\nwas of a good family and reputable parents (though that is contested by\nsome authors), and had a very large acquaintance of intimate friends and\nrelations, and also some youths attached to him by ties of love after the\nfashion of the Greeks, he could not trust any one of them, but committed\nthe guard of his person to slaves, whom he had selected from rich men\u2019s\nfamilies and made free, and to strangers and barbarians. And thus, through\nan unjust desire 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 daughters\ntaught to shave; so that these royal virgins were forced to descend to the\nbase and slavish employment of shaving the head and beard of their father.\nNor would he trust even them, when they were grown up, with a razor; but\ncontrived how they might burn off the hair of his head and beard with\nred-hot nut-shells. And as to his two wives, Aristomache his countrywoman,\nand Doris of Locris, he never visited them at night before everything had\nbeen well searched and examined. And as he had surrounded the place where\nhis bed was with a broad ditch, and made a way over it with a wooden\nbridge, he drew that bridge over after shutting his bedchamber door. And\nas he did not dare to stand on the ordinary pulpits from which they\nusually harangued the people, he generally addressed them from a high\ntower. And it is said, that when he was disposed to play at ball,\u2014for he\ndelighted much in it,\u2014and had pulled off his clothes, he used to give his\nsword into the keeping of a young man whom he was very fond of. On this,\none of his intimates said pleasantly, \u201cYou certainly trust your life with\nhim;\u201d and as the young man happened to smile at this, he ordered them both\nto be 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 men\u2019s\ndesires pull them different ways, and whilst they indulge one, they act\ncounter 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 conversation\non his forces, his wealth, the greatness of his power, the plenty he\nenjoyed, the grandeur of his royal palaces, and maintaining that no one\nwas ever happier,\u2014\u201cHave you an inclination,\u201d said he, \u201cDamocles, as this\nkind of life pleases you, to have a taste of it yourself, and to make a\ntrial of the good fortune that attends me?\u201d And when he said that he\nshould like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him to be laid on a bed of\ngold with the most beautiful covering, embroidered and wrought with the\nmost exquisite work, and he dressed out a great many sideboards with\nsilver and embossed gold. He then ordered some youths, distinguished for\ntheir handsome persons, to wait at his table, and to observe his nod, in\norder to serve him with what he wanted. There were ointments and garlands;\nperfumes were burned; tables provided with the most exquisite meats.\nDamocles thought himself very happy. In the midst of this apparatus,\nDionysius ordered a bright sword to be let down from the ceiling,\nsuspended by a single horsehair, so as to hang over the head of that happy\nman. After which he neither cast his eye on those handsome waiters, nor on\nthe well wrought plate; nor touched any of the provisions: presently the\ngarlands fell to pieces. At last he entreated the tyrant to give him leave\nto go, for that now he had no desire to be happy.(110) Does not Dionysius,\nthen, seem to have declared there can be no happiness for one who is under\nconstant apprehensions? But it was not now in his power to return to\njustice, and 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 to a\nright way of thinking he must have endangered his life.\n\nXXII. Yet, how desirous he was of friendship, though at the same time he\ndreaded the treachery of friends, appears from the story of those two\nPythagoreans: one of these had been security for his friend, who was\ncondemned to die; the other, to release his security, presented himself at\nthe time appointed for his dying: \u201cI wish,\u201d said Dionysius, \u201cyou would\nadmit me as the third in your friendship.\u201d What misery was it for him to\nbe deprived of acquaintance, of company at his table, and of the freedom\nof conversation; especially for one who was a man of learning, and from\nhis childhood acquainted with liberal arts, very fond of music, and\nhimself a tragic poet,\u2014how good a one is not to the purpose, for I know\nnot how it is, but in this way, more than any other, every one thinks his\nown performances excellent. I never as yet knew any poet (and I was very\nintimate with Aquinius), who did not appear to himself to be very\nadmirable. The case is this; you are pleased with your own works, I like\nmine. But to return to Dionysius: he debarred himself from all civil and\npolite conversation, and spent his life among fugitives, bondmen, and\nbarbarians; for he was persuaded that no one could be his friend who was\nworthy of liberty or had the least 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 possibly\nbe 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, overgrown\nwith shrubs and briars, I in my qu\u00e6storship discovered, when the\nSyracusans knew nothing of it, and even denied that there was any such\nthing remaining: for I remembered some verses, which I had been informed\nwere engraved on his monument, and these set forth that on the top of the\ntomb there was placed a sphere with a cylinder. When I had carefully\nexamined all the monuments (for there are a great many tombs at the gate\nAchradin\u00e6), I observed a small column standing out a little above the\nbriars, with the figure of a sphere and a cylinder upon it; whereupon I\nimmediately said to the Syracusans, for there were some of their principal\nmen with me there, that I imagined that was what I was inquiring for.\nSeveral men being sent in with scythes, cleared the way, and made an\nopening for us. When we could get at it, and were come near to the front\nof the pedestal, I found the inscription, though the latter parts of all\nthe verses were effaced almost half away. Thus one of the noblest cities\nof Greece, and one which at one time likewise had been very celebrated for\nlearning, had known nothing of the monument of its greatest genius, if it\nhad not been discovered to them by a native of Arpinum. But to return to\nthe subject from which I have been digressing. Who is there in the least\ndegree acquainted with the Muses, that is, with liberal knowledge, or that\ndeals at all in learning, who would not choose to be this mathematician\nrather than that tyrant? If we look into their methods of living and their\nemployments, we shall find the mind of the one strengthened and improved\nwith tracing the deductions of reason, amused with his own ingenuity,\nwhich is the one most delicious food of the mind; the thoughts of the\nother engaged in continual murders and injuries, in constant fears by\nnight and by day. Now imagine a Democritus, a Pythagoras, and an\nAnaxagoras; what kingdom, what riches would you prefer to their studies\nand amusements? for you must necessarily look for that excellence which we\nare seeking for in that which is the most perfect part of man; but what is\nthere better in man than a sagacious and good mind? The enjoyment,\ntherefore, of that good which proceeds from that sagacious mind, can alone\nmake us happy: but virtue is the good of the mind; it follows, therefore,\nthat a happy life depends on virtue. Hence proceed all things that are\nbeautiful, honourable, and excellent, as I said above (but this point\nmust, I think, be treated of more at large), and they are well stored with\njoys. For, as it is clear that a happy life consists in perpetual and\nunexhausted pleasures, it follows too, that a happy life must arise from\nhonesty.\n\nXXIV. But that what I propose to demonstrate to you may not rest on mere\nwords only, I must set before you the picture of something, as it were,\nliving and moving in the world, that may dispose us more for the\nimprovement of the understanding and real knowledge. Let us, then, pitch\nupon some man perfectly acquainted with the most excellent arts; let us\npresent him for a while to our own thoughts, and figure him to our own\nimaginations. 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 defining\nwhat we ought to desire, and what to avoid: the third in judging of\nconsequences and impossibilities: in which consists both subtilty in\ndisputing, and also clearness of judgment. Now with what pleasure must the\nmind of a wise man be affected, which continually dwells in the midst of\nsuch cares and occupations as these, when he views the revolutions and\nmotions of the whole world, and sees those innumerable stars in the\nheavens, which, though fixed in their places, have yet one motion in\ncommon with the whole universe, and observes the seven other stars, some\nhigher, some lower, each maintaining their own course, while their\nmotions, though wandering, have certain defined and appointed spaces to\nrun through, the sight of which doubtless urged and encouraged those\nancient philosophers to exercise their investigating spirit on many other\nthings. Hence arose an inquiry after the beginnings, and, as it were,\nseeds from which all things were produced and composed; what was the\norigin of every kind of thing, whether animate or inanimate, articulately\nspeaking or mute; what occasioned their beginning and end, and by what\nalteration and change one thing was converted into another: whence the\nearth originated, and by what weights it was balanced: by what caverns the\nseas were supplied: by what gravity all things being carried down tend\nalways to the middle of the world, which in any round body is the lowest\nplace.\n\nXXV. A mind employed on such subjects, and which night and day\ncontemplates them, contains in itself that precept of the Delphic God, so\nas to \u201cknow itself,\u201d and to perceive its connexion with the divine reason,\nfrom whence it is filled with an insatiable joy. For reflections on the\npower and nature of the Gods raise in us a desire of imitating their\neternity. Nor does the mind, that sees the necessary dependences and\nconnexions that one cause has with another, think it possible that it\nshould be itself confined to the shortness of this life. Those causes,\nthough they proceed from eternity to eternity, are governed by reason and\nunderstanding. And he who beholds them and examines them, or rather he\nwhose view takes in all the parts and boundaries of things, with what\ntranquillity of mind does he look on all human affairs, and on all that is\nnearer him! Hence proceeds the knowledge of virtue; hence arise the kinds\nand species of virtues; hence are discovered those things which nature\nregards as the bounds and extremities of good and evil; by this it is\ndiscovered to what all duties ought to be referred, and which is the most\neligible manner of life. And when these and similar points have been\ninvestigated, the principal consequence which is deduced from them, and\nthat which is our main object in this discussion, is the establishment of\nthe point\u2014that virtue 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 from\nits species, connect consequences, draw just conclusions, and distinguish\ntruth from falsehood, which is the very art and science of disputing;\nwhich is not only of the greatest use in the examination of what passes in\nthe world, but is likewise the most rational entertainment, and that which\nis most becoming to true wisdom. Such are its effects in retirement. Now\nlet our wise man be considered as protecting the republic; what can be\nmore excellent than such a character? By his prudence he will discover the\ntrue interests of his fellow-citizens, by his justice he will be prevented\nfrom applying what belongs to the public to his own use; and in short, he\nwill be ever governed by all the virtues which are many and various? To\nthese let us add the advantage of his friendships; in which the learned\nreckon not only a natural harmony and agreement of sentiments throughout\nthe conduct of life, but the utmost pleasure and satisfaction in\nconversing and passing our time constantly with one another. What can be\nwanting to 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? Is\nit allowable even for Epicurus (who only puts on the appearance of being a\nphilosopher, and who himself assumed that name for himself,) to say,\n(though as matters stand, I commend him for his saying,) that a wise man\nmight at all times cry out, though he be burned, tortured, cut to pieces,\n\u201cHow little I regard it!\u201d Shall this be said by one who defines all evil\nas pain, and measures every good by pleasure; who could ridicule whatever\nwe call either honourable or base, and could declare of us that we were\nemployed about words, and uttering mere empty sounds; and that nothing is\nto be regarded by us, but as it is perceived to be smooth or rough by the\nbody? What, shall such a man as this, as I said, whose understanding is\nlittle superior to the beasts, be at liberty to forget himself; and not\nonly to despise fortune, when the whole of his good and evil is in the\npower of fortune, but to say, that he is happy in the most racking\ntorture, when he had actually declared pain to be not only the greatest\nevil, but the only one? Nor did he take any trouble to provide himself\nwith those remedies which might have enabled him to bear pain; such as\nfirmness of mind, a shame of doing anything base, exercise, and the habit\nof patience, precepts of courage, and a manly hardiness: but he says that\nhe supports himself on the single recollection of past pleasures, as if\nany one, when the weather was so hot as that he was scarcely able to bear\nit, should comfort himself by recollecting that he was once in my country\nArpinum, where he was surrounded on every side by cooling streams: for I\ndo not apprehend how past pleasures can allay present evils. But when he\nsays that a wise man is always happy, who would have no right to say so if\nhe were consistent with himself, what may they not do, who allow nothing\nto be desirable, nothing to be looked on as good but what is honourable?\nLet, then, the Peripatetics and old Academics follow my example, and at\nlength leave off muttering to themselves; and openly and with a clear\nvoice let them be bold to say, that a happy life may not be inconsistent\nwith the agonies of Phalaris\u2019s bull.\n\nXXVII. But to dismiss the subtleties of the Stoics, which I am sensible I\nhave 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 to\nthe body, and to external circumstances, as entitled to the appellation of\ngood in any other sense than because we are obliged to use them: but let\nthose other divine goods spread themselves far in every direction, and\nreach the very heavens. Why, then, may I not call him happy, nay, the\nhappiest of men, who has attained them? Shall a wise man be afraid of\npain? which is, indeed, the greatest enemy to our opinion. For I am\npersuaded that we are prepared and fortified sufficiently, by the\ndisputations of the foregoing days, against our own death, or that of our\nfriends, against grief and the other perturbations of the mind. But pain\nseems to be the sharpest adversary of virtue: that it is which menaces us\nwith burning torches; that it is which threatens to crush our fortitude,\nand greatness of mind, and patience. Shall virtue then yield to this?\nShall the happy life of a wise and consistent man succumb to this? Good\nGods! how base would this be! Spartan boys will bear to have their bodies\ntorn by rods without uttering a groan. I myself have seen at Laced\u00e6mon,\ntroops of young men, with incredible earnestness contending together with\ntheir hands and feet, with their teeth and nails, nay even ready to\nexpire, rather than own themselves conquered. Is any country of barbarians\nmore uncivilized or desolate than India? Yet they have amongst them some\nthat are held for wise men, who never wear any clothes all their life\nlong, and 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 being\nburned without a groan. The women too, in India, on the death of their\nhusbands have a regular contest, and apply to the judge to have it\ndetermined which of them was best beloved by him; for it is customary\nthere for one man to have many wives. She in whose favour it is determined\nexults greatly, and being attended by her relations is laid on the funeral\npile with her husband: the others, who are postponed, walk away very much\ndejected. Custom can never be superior to nature: for nature is never to\nbe got the better of. But our minds are infected by sloth and idleness,\nand luxury, and languor, and indolence: we have enervated them by\nopinions, and bad customs. Who is there who is unacquainted with the\ncustoms of the Egyptians? Their minds being tainted by pernicious\nopinions, they are ready to bear any torture, rather than hurt an ibis, a\nsnake, a cat, a dog, or a crocodile: and should any one inadvertently have\nhurt any of these animals, he will submit to any punishment. I am speaking\nof men only. As to the beasts, do they not bear cold and hunger, running\nabout in woods, and on mountains and deserts? will they not fight for\ntheir young ones till they are wounded? Are they afraid of any attacks or\nblows? I mention not what the ambitious will suffer for honour\u2019s sake, or\nthose who are desirous of praise on account of glory, or lovers to gratify\ntheir lust. Life is full of such instances.\n\nXXVIII. But let us not dwell too much on these questions, but rather let\nus return to our subject. I say, and say again, that happiness will submit\neven to be tormented; and that in pursuit of justice, and temperance, and\nstill more especially and principally fortitude, and greatness of soul,\nand patience, it will not stop short at sight of the executioner; and when\nall other virtues proceed calmly to the torture, that one will never halt,\nas I said, on the outside and threshold of the prison: for what can be\nbaser, what can carry a worse appearance, than to be left alone, separated\nfrom those beautiful attendants? not however that this is by any means\npossible: for neither can the virtues hold together without happiness, nor\nhappiness without the virtues: so that they will not suffer her to desert\nthem, but will carry her along with them, to whatever torments, to\nwhatever pain they are led. For it is the peculiar quality of a wise man\nto do nothing that he may repent of, nothing against his inclination: but\nalways to act nobly, with constancy, gravity, and honesty: to depend on\nnothing as 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 easy;\nfor since they are persuaded that the end of good is to live agreeably to\nnature, and to be consistent with that,\u2014as a wise man should do so, not\nonly because it is his duty, but because it is in his power, it must of\ncourse follow, that whoever has the chief good in his power, has his\nhappiness so too. And thus the life of a wise man is always happy. You\nhave here what I think may be confidently said of a happy life, and as\nthings now stand, very truly also, unless you can advance something\nbetter.\n\nXXIX. _A._ Indeed I cannot; but I should be glad to prevail on you, unless\nit is troublesome (as you are under no confinement from obligations to any\nparticular sect, but gather from all of them whatever strikes you most as\nhaving the appearance of probability), as you just now seemed to advise\nthe Peripatetics and the Old Academy, boldly to speak out without reserve,\n\u201cthat wise men are always the happiest,\u201d\u2014I should be glad to hear how you\nthink it consistent for them to say so, when you have said so much against\nthat opinion, and the conclusions of the Stoics.\n\n_M._ I will make use, then, of that liberty which no one has the privilege\nof using in philosophy but those of our school, whose discourses determine\nnothing, but take in everything, leaving them, unsupported by the\nauthority of any particular person, to be judged of by others, according\nto their weight. And as you seem desirous of knowing how it is that,\nnotwithstanding the different opinions of philosophers with regard to the\nends of goods, virtue has still sufficient security for the effecting of a\nhappy life,\u2014which security, as we are informed, Carneades used indeed to\ndispute against; but he disputed as against the Stoics, whose opinions he\ncombated with great zeal and vehemence,\u2014I however shall handle the\nquestion with more temper; for if the Stoics have rightly settled the\n_ends_ of goods, the affair is at an end; for a wise man must necessarily\nbe always happy. But let us examine, if we can, the particular opinions of\nthe others, that so this excellent decision, if I may so call it, in\nfavour of a happy life, may be agreeable to the opinions and discipline of\nall.\n\nXXX. These then are the opinions, as I think, that are held and defended:\nthe first four are simple ones; \u201cthat nothing is good but what is honest,\u201d\naccording to the Stoics: \"nothing good but pleasure,\" as Epicurus\nmaintains: \u201cnothing good but a freedom from pain,\u201d as Hieronymus(111)\nasserts: \u201cnothing good but an enjoyment of the principal, or all, or the\ngreatest goods of nature,\u201d as Carneades maintained against the\nStoics:\u2014these are simple, the others are mixed propositions. Then there\nare three kinds of goods; the greatest being those of the mind, the next\nbest those of the body, the third are external goods, as the Peripatetics\ncall them, and the old Academics differ very little from them.\nDinomachus(112) and Callipho(113) have coupled pleasure with honesty: but\nDiodorus,(114) the Peripatetic, has joined indolence to honesty. These are\nthe opinions that have some footing; for those of Aristo,(115)\nPyrrho,(116) Herillus,(117) and of some others, are quite out of date. Now\nlet us see what weight these men have in them, excepting the Stoics, whose\nopinion I think I have sufficiently defended; and indeed I have explained\nwhat the Peripatetics have to say; excepting that Theophrastus, and those\nwho followed him, dread and abhor pain in too weak a manner. The others\nmay go 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, are\nnot at liberty to deny those men to be happy, who have obtained it. Though\nthey may be under some evils, yet this name of happy has a very wide\napplication.\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 other\nwith any damage from the inclemency of the weather, but because they\nsucceed in general: so life may be properly called happy, not from its\nbeing entirely made up of good things, but because it abounds with these\nto a great and considerable degree. By this way of reasoning, then, a\nhappy life may attend virtue even to the moment of execution; nay, may\ndescend with her into Phalaris\u2019s bull, according to Aristotle, Xenocrates,\nSpeusippus, Polemon; and will not be gained over by any allurements to\nforsake her. Of the same opinion will Calliphon and Diodorus be: for they\nare both of them such friends to virtue, as to think that all things\nshould be discarded and far removed that are incompatible with it. The\nrest seem to be more hampered with these doctrines, but yet they get clear\nof them; such as Epicurus, Hieronymus, and whoever else thinks it worth\nwhile to defend the deserted Carneades: for there is not one of them who\ndoes not think the mind to be judge of those goods, and able sufficiently\nto instruct him how to despise what has the appearance only of good or\nevil. For what seems to you to be the case with Epicurus, is the case also\nwith Hieronymus 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 the\nday of his death happy; and who, when he is afflicted by the greatest\npains, silences them all by recollecting arguments of his own discovering?\nAnd this is not done in such a manner as to give room for imagining that\nhe talks thus wildly from some sudden impulse: but his opinion of death\nis, that on the dissolution of the animal, all sense is lost; and what is\ndeprived of sense is, as he thinks, what we have no concern at all with.\nAnd as to pain too, he has certain rules to follow then: if it be great,\nthe comfort is, that it must be short; if it be of long continuance, then\nit must be supportable. What then? Do those grandiloquent gentlemen state\nanything better than Epicurus, in opposition to these two things which\ndistress us the most? And as to other things, do not Epicurus and the rest\nof the philosophers seem sufficiently prepared? Who is there who does not\ndread poverty? And yet no true philosopher ever can dread it.\n\nXXXII. But with how little is this man himself satisfied? No one has said\nmore on frugality. For when a man is far removed from those things which\noccasion 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(118) disregard money, and shall\nnot our philosophers be able to do so? We are informed of an epistle of\nhis, in these words: \u201cAnacharsis to Hanno, greeting. My clothing is the\nsame as that with which the Scythians cover themselves; the hardness of my\nfeet supplies the want of shoes; the ground is my bed, hunger my sauce, my\nfood milk, cheese, and flesh. So you may come to me as to a man in want of\nnothing. But as to those presents you take so much pleasure in, you may\ndispose of them to your own citizens, or to the immortal gods.\u201d And almost\nall philosophers, of all schools, excepting those who are warped from\nright reason by a vicious disposition, might have been of this same\nopinion. Socrates, when on one occasion he saw a great quantity of gold\nand silver carried in a procession, cried out, \u201cHow many things are there\nwhich I do not want!\u201d\n\nXenocrates, when some ambassadors from Alexander had brought him fifty\ntalents, which was a very large sum of money in those times, especially at\nAthens, carried the ambassadors to sup in the Academy; and placed just a\nsufficiency before them, without any apparatus. When they asked him, the\nnext day, to whom he wished the money which they had for him to be paid:\n\u201cWhat?\u201d said he, \u201cdid you not perceive by our slight repast of yesterday,\nthat I had no occasion for money?\u201d But when he perceived that they were\nsomewhat dejected, he accepted of thirty min\u00e6, that he might not seem to\ntreat with disrespect the king\u2019s generosity. But Diogenes took a greater\nliberty, like a Cynic, when Alexander asked him if he wanted anything:\n\u201cJust at present,\u201d said he, \u201cI wish that you would stand a little out of\nthe line between me and the sun,\u201d for Alexander was hindering him from\nsunning himself. And indeed this very man used to maintain how much he\nsurpassed the Persian king, in his manner of life and fortune; for that he\nhimself was in want of nothing, while the other never had enough; and that\nhe had no inclination for those pleasures of which the other could never\nget enough to satisfy himself: and that the other could never obtain his.\n\nXXXIII. You see, I imagine, how Epicurus has divided his kinds of desires,\nnot very acutely perhaps, but yet usefully: saying, that they are \u201cpartly\nnatural and necessary; partly natural, but not necessary; partly neither.\nThat those which are necessary may be supplied almost for nothing; for\nthat the things which nature requires are easily obtained.\u201d As to the\nsecond kind of desires, his opinion is, that any one may easily either\nenjoy or go without them. And with regard to the third, since they are\nutterly frivolous, being neither allied to necessity nor nature, he thinks\nthat they should be entirely rooted out. On this topic a great many\narguments are adduced by the Epicureans; and those pleasures which they do\nnot despise in a body, they disparage one by one, and seem rather for\nlessening the number of them: for as to wanton pleasures, on which subject\nthey say a great deal, these, say they, are easy, common, and within any\none\u2019s reach; and they think that if nature requires them, they are not to\nbe estimated by birth, condition, or rank, but by shape, age, and person:\nand that it is by no means difficult to refrain from them, should health,\nduty, or reputation require it; but that pleasures of this kind may be\ndesirable, where they are attended with no inconvenience, but can never be\nof any use. And the assertions which Epicurus makes with respect to the\nwhole of pleasure, are such as show his opinion to be that pleasure is\nalways desirable, and to be pursued merely because it is pleasure; and for\nthe same reason pain is to be avoided, because it is pain. So that a wise\nman will always adopt such a system of counterbalancing as to do himself\nthe justice to avoid pleasure, should pain ensue from it in too great a\nproportion; and will submit to pain, provided the effects of it are to\nproduce a greater pleasure: so that all pleasurable things, though the\ncorporeal senses are the judges of them, are still to be referred to the\nmind, on which account the body rejoices, whilst it perceives a present\npleasure; but that the mind not only perceives the present as well as the\nbody, but foresees it, while it is coming, and even when it is past will\nnot let it quite slip away. So that a wise man enjoys a continual series\nof pleasures, uniting the expectation of future pleasure to the\nrecollection of what he has already tasted. The like notions are applied\nby them to high living; and the magnificence and expensiveness of\nentertainments are deprecated, because nature is satisfied at a small\nexpense.\n\nXXXIV. For who does not see this, that an appetite is the best sauce? When\nDarius, in his flight from the enemy, had drunk some water which was muddy\nand tainted with dead bodies, he declared that he had never drunk anything\nmore pleasant; the fact was, that he had never drunk before when he was\nthirsty. Nor had Ptolemy ever eaten when he was hungry: for as he was\ntravelling over Egypt, his company not keeping up with him, he had some\ncoarse bread presented him in a cottage: upon which he said, \u201cNothing ever\nseemed to him pleasanter than that bread.\u201d They relate too of Socrates,\nthat, once when he was walking very fast till the evening, on his being\nasked why he did so, his reply was that he was purchasing an appetite by\nwalking, that he might sup the better. And do we not see what the\nLaced\u00e6monians provide in their Phiditia? where the tyrant Dionysius\nsupped, but told them he did not at all like that black broth, which was\ntheir principal dish; on which he who dressed it said, \u201cIt was no wonder,\nfor it wanted seasoning.\u201d Dionysius asked what that seasoning was; to\nwhich it was replied, \u201cFatigue in hunting, sweating, a race on the banks\nof Eurotas, hunger, and thirst:\u201d for these are the seasonings to the\nLaced\u00e6monian banquets. And this may not only be conceived from the custom\nof men, but from the beasts, who are satisfied with anything that is\nthrown before them, provided it is not unnatural, and they seek no\nfarther. Some entire cities, taught by custom, delight in parsimony, as I\nsaid but just now of the Laced\u00e6monians. Xenophon has given an account of\nthe Persian diet; who never, as he saith, use anything but cresses with\ntheir bread, not but that, should nature require anything more agreeable,\nmany things might be easily supplied by the ground, and plants in great\nabundance, and of incomparable sweetness. Add to this, strength and\nhealth, as the consequence of this abstemious way of living. Now compare\nwith this, those who sweat and belch, being crammed with eating, like\nfatted oxen: then will you perceive that they who pursue pleasure most,\nattain it least: 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, \u201cYour suppers\nare not only agreeable whilst I partake of them, but the next day also.\u201d\nBesides, the understanding is impaired when we are full with over-eating\nand drinking. There is an excellent epistle of Plato to Dion\u2019s relations,\nin which there occurs as nearly as possible these words: \u201cWhen I came\nthere, that happy life so much talked of, devoted to Italian and Syracusan\nentertainments, was no ways agreeable to me; to be crammed twice a day,\nand never to have the night to yourself, and the other things which are\nthe accompaniments of this kind of life, by which a man will never be made\nthe wiser, but will be rendered much less temperate; for it must be an\nextraordinary disposition that can be temperate in such circumstances.\u201d\nHow, then, can a life be pleasant without prudence and temperance? Hence\nyou discover the mistake of Sardanapalus, the wealthiest king of the\nAssyrians, who ordered it to be engraved on his tomb,\n\n\n    I still have what in food I did exhaust,\n    But what I left, though excellent, is lost.\n\n\n\u201cWhat less than this,\u201d says Aristotle, \u201ccould be inscribed on the tomb,\nnot of a king but an ox?\u201d He said that he possessed those things when\ndead, which, in his lifetime, he could have no longer than whilst 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, pictures,\nand diversions. But if any one is delighted with these things, have not\nthe poor people the enjoyment of them more than they who are the owners of\nthem in the greatest abundance? For we have great numbers of them\ndisplayed publicly in our city. And whatever store of them private people\nhave, they cannot have a great number, and they but seldom see them, only\nwhen they go to their country seats; and some of them must be stung to the\nheart when they consider how they came by them. The day would fail me,\nshould I be inclined to defend the cause of poverty: the thing is\nmanifest, and nature daily informs us how few things there are, and how\ntrifling they are, of which she really stands in need.\n\nXXXVI. Let us inquire, then, if obscurity, the want of power, or even the\nbeing unpopular, can prevent a wise man from being happy. Observe if\npopular favour, and this glory which they are so fond of, be not attended\nwith more uneasiness than pleasure. Our friend Demosthenes was certainly\nvery weak in declaring himself pleased with the whisper of a woman who was\ncarrying water, as is the custom in Greece, and who whispered to another,\n\u201cThat is he\u2014that is Demosthenes.\u201d What could be weaker than this? and yet\nwhat an orator he was! But although he had learned to speak to others, he\nhad conversed but little with himself. We may perceive, therefore, that\npopular glory is not desirable of itself; nor is obscurity to be dreaded.\n\u201cI came to Athens,\u201d saith Democritus, \u201cand there was no one there that\nknew me:\u201d this was a moderate and grave man who could glory in his\nobscurity. Shall musicians compose their tunes to their own tastes; and\nshall a philosopher, master of a much better art, seek to ascertain, not\nwhat is 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? These\nwise men would contemn our ambitious pursuits, and our vanities, and would\nreject all the honours which the people could voluntarily offer to them:\nbut we know not how to despise them till we begin to repent of having\naccepted them. There is an anecdote related by Heraclitus the natural\nphilosopher, of Hermodorus the chief of the Ephesians, that he said, \u201cthat\nall the Ephesians ought to be punished with death, for saying, when they\nhad expelled Hermodorus out of their city, that they would have no one\namongst them better than another; but that if there were any such, he\nmight go elsewhere to some other people.\u201d Is not this the case with the\npeople everywhere? do they not hate every virtue that distinguishes\nitself? What! was not Aristides (I had rather instance in the Greeks than\nourselves) banished his country for being eminently just? What troubles,\nthen, are they free from who have no connexion whatever with the people!\nWhat is more agreeable than a learned retirement? I speak of that learning\nwhich makes us acquainted with the boundless extent of nature, and the\nuniverse, and which even while we remain in this world discovers to us\nboth heaven, earth, and sea.\n\nXXXVII. If, then, honour 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 from\nthe froward disposition of the people, I have just now declared how\ncontemptible it is. But if to leave one\u2019s 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 poverty?\nBut with regard to banishment, if we examine the nature of things, not the\nignominy of the name, how little does it differ from constant travelling?\nin which some of the most famous philosophers have spent their whole life:\nas Xenocrates, Crantor, Arcesilas, Lacydes, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Zeno,\nCleanthes, Chrysippus, Antipater, Carneades, Pan\u00e6tius, Clitomachus, Philo,\nAntiochus, Posidonius, and innumerable others; who from their first\nsetting out never returned home again. Now what ignominy can a wise man be\naffected with (for it is of such a one that I am speaking) who can be\nguilty of nothing which deserves it; for there is no occasion to comfort\none who is banished for his deserts. Lastly, they can easily reconcile\nthemselves to every accident who measure all their objects and pursuits in\nlife by the standard of pleasure; so that in whatever place that is\nsupplied, there they may live happily. Thus what Teucer said may be\napplied to every case:\n\n\n    Wherever I am happy, is my country.\n\n\nSocrates, indeed, when he was asked where he belonged to, replied, \u201cThe\nworld;\u201d 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, although\nhe was banished? which, however, would not have happened to him, if he had\nobeyed the laws of Epicurus, and lived peaceably in the republic. In what\nwas Epicurus happier, living in his own country, than Metrodorus who lived\nat Athens? Or did Plato\u2019s happiness exceed that of Xenocrates, or Polemo,\nor Arcesilas? Or is that city to be valued much, that banishes all her\ngood and wise men? Demaratus, the father of our king Tarquin, not being\nable to bear the tyrant Cypselus, fled from Corinth to Tarquinii, settled\nthere, and had children. Was it, then, an unwise act in him to prefer the\nliberty of banishment to slavery at home?\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 a\nwise 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 seeing\nand hearing? Yes; for he holds those things very cheap. For, in the first\nplace, what are the pleasures of which we are deprived by that dreadful\nthing, blindness? For though they allow other pleasures to be confined to\nthe senses, yet the things which are perceived by the sight do not depend\nwholly on the pleasure the eyes receive; as is the case when we taste,\nsmell, touch, or hear; for, in respect of all these senses, the organs\nthemselves are the seat of pleasure; but it is not so with the eyes. For\nit is the mind which is entertained by what we see; but the mind may be\nentertained in many ways, even though we could not see at all. I am\nspeaking of a learned and a wise man, with whom to think is to live. But\nthinking in the case of a wise man does not altogether require the use of\nhis eyes in his investigations; for if night does not strip him of his\nhappiness, why should blindness, which resembles night, have that effect?\nFor the reply of Antipater the Cyrenaic, to some women who bewailed his\nbeing blind, though it is a little too obscene, is not without its\nsignificance. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d saith he; \u201cdo you think the night can\nfurnish no pleasure?\u201d And we find by his magistracies and his actions,\nthat old Appius(119) too, who was blind for many years, was not prevented\nfrom doing whatever was required of him, with respect either to the\nrepublic or his own affairs. It is said, that C. Drusus\u2019s house was\ncrowded with clients. When they, whose business it was, could not see how\nto conduct themselves, they applied to a blind guide.\n\nXXXIX. When I was a boy, Cn. Aufidius, a blind man, who had served the\noffice of pr\u00e6tor, not only gave his opinion in the senate, and was ready\nto assist his friends, but wrote a Greek history, and had a considerable\nacquaintance with literature. Diodorus the Stoic was blind, and lived many\nyears at my house. He, indeed, which is scarcely credible, besides\napplying himself more than usual to philosophy, and playing on the flute,\nagreeably to the custom of the Pythagoreans, and having books read to him\nnight and day, in all which he did not want eyes, contrived to teach\ngeometry, which, one would think, could hardly be done without the\nassistance of eyes, telling his scholars how and where to draw every line.\nThey relate of Asclepiades, a native of Eretria, and no obscure\nphilosopher, when some one asked him what inconvenience he suffered from\nhis blindness, that his reply was, \u201cHe was at the expense of another\nservant.\u201d So that, as the most extreme poverty may be borne, if you\nplease, as is daily the case with some in Greece; so blindness may easily\nbe borne, provided you have the support of good health in other respects.\nDemocritus was so blind he could not distinguish white from black: but he\nknew the difference betwixt good and evil, just and unjust, honourable and\nbase, the useful and useless, great and small. Thus one may live happily\nwithout distinguishing colours; but without acquainting yourself with\nthings, you cannot; and this man was of opinion, that the intense\napplication of the mind was taken off by the objects that presented\nthemselves to the eye, and while others often could not see what was\nbefore their feet, he travelled through all infinity. It is reported also\nthat Homer(120) was blind, but we observe his painting, as well as his\npoetry. What country, what coast, what part of Greece, what military\nattacks, what dispositions of battle, what army, what ship, what motions\nof men and animals can be mentioned which he has not described in such a\nmanner as to enable us to see what he could not see himself? What, then!\ncan we 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 Tiresias\nthe Augur as a wise man and blind, never exhibit him as bewailing his\nblindness. And Homer, too, after he had described Polyphemus as a monster\nand a wild man, represents him talking with his ram, and speaking of his\ngood fortune, inasmuch as he could go wherever he pleased and touch what\nhe would. And so far he was right, for that Cyclops was a being of not\nmuch 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\u2019s language, and we are all truly deaf with\nregard to those innumerable languages which we do not understand. They do\nnot hear the voice of the harper; but then they do not hear the grating of\na saw when it is setting, or the grunting of a hog when his throat is\nbeing cut, nor the roaring of the sea when they are desirous of rest. And\nif they should chance to be fond of singing, they ought in the first place\nto consider that many wise men lived happily before music was discovered;\nbesides, they may have more pleasure in reading verses than in hearing\nthem sung. Then, as I before referred the blind to the pleasures of\nhearing, so I may the deaf to the pleasures of sight: moreover, whoever\ncan converse with himself doth not need the conversation of another. But\nsuppose all these misfortunes to meet in one person: suppose him blind and\ndeaf,\u2014let him be afflicted with the sharpest pains of body, which, in the\nfirst place, generally of themselves make an end of him; still, should\nthey continue so long, and the pain be so exquisite, that we should be\nunable to assign any reason for our being so afflicted,\u2014still, why, good\nGods! should we be under any difficulty? For there is a retreat at hand:\ndeath is that retreat\u2014a shelter where we shall for ever be insensible.\nTheodoras said to Lysimachus, who threatened him with death, \u201cIt is a\ngreat matter, indeed, for you to have acquired the power of a Spanish\nfly!\u201d When Perses entreated Paulus not to lead him in triumph, \u201cThat is a\nmatter which you have in your own power,\u201d said Paulus. I said many things\nabout death in our first day\u2019s disputation, when death was the subject;\nand not a little the next day, when I treated of pain; which things if you\nrecollect, 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 should,\nin my opinion, be observed in life:\u2014Drink, say they, or leave the company:\nand rightly enough; for a guest should either enjoy the pleasure of\ndrinking with others, or else not stay till he meets with affronts from\nthose that are in liquor. Thus, those injuries of fortune which you cannot\nbear, you should flee from.\n\nXLI. This is the very same which is said by Epicurus and Hieronymus. Now,\nif those philosophers, whose opinion it is that virtue has no power of\nitself, and who say that the conduct which we denominate honourable and\nlaudable is really nothing, and is only an empty circumstance set off with\nan unmeaning sound, can nevertheless maintain that a wise man is always\nhappy, what, think you, may be done by the Socratic and Platonic\nphilosophers. Some of these allow such superiority to the goods of the\nmind, as quite to eclipse what concerns the body and all external\ncircumstances. But others do not admit these to be goods; they make\neverything depend on the mind: whose disputes Carneades used, as a sort of\nhonorary arbitrator, to determine. For, as what seemed goods to the\nPeripatetics were allowed to be advantages by the Stoics, and as the\nPeripatetics allowed no more to riches, good health, and other things of\nthat sort, than the Stoics, when these things were considered according to\ntheir reality, and not by mere names, his opinion was that there was no\nground for disagreeing. Therefore, let the philosophers of other schools\nsee how they can establish this point also. It is very agreeable to me\nthat they make some professions worthy of being uttered by the mouth of a\nphilosopher, with regard to a wise man\u2019s having always the means of living\nhappily.\n\nXLII. But as we are to depart in the morning, let us remember these five\ndays\u2019 discussions; though, indeed, I think I shall commit them to writing:\nfor how can I better employ the leisure which I have, of whatever kind it\nis, and whatever it be owing to? and I will send these five books also to\nmy friend Brutus, by whom I was not only incited to write on philosophy,\nbut, I may say, provoked. And by so doing, it is not easy to say what\nservice I may be of to others; at all events, in my own various and acute\nafflictions, which surround me on all sides, I cannot find any better\ncomfort for myself.\n\nTHE END\n\n\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n    1 The following are the most important of the passages referred\n      to:\u2014\u201cSince I entered upon these philosophical inquiries, Varro has\n      given me notice of a valuable and honourable dedication of a work of\n      his to me.... In the mean time I have been preparing myself as he\n      desired to make him a return.\n\n      \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c4\u1ff7 \u03bc\u03ad\u03c4\u03c1\u1ff3 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bb\u1ff6\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u1f34\u03ba\u03b5 \u03b4\u03cd\u03bd\u03c9\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9.\n\n      \u201cI may as well, therefore, remove from my Academical Disputations\n      the present speakers, who are distinguished characters indeed, but\n      by no means philosophical, and who discourse with too much subtlety,\n      and substitute Varro in their place. For these are the opinions of\n      Antiochus, to which he is much attached. I can find a place for\n      Catulus and Lucullus elsewhere.\u201d\u2014Ep. 12.\n\n      \u201cThe Catulus and Lucullus I imagine you have had before; but I have\n      made new introductions to these books which I wish you to have,\n      containing an eulogium upon each of these persons, and there are\n      some other additions.\u201d\u2014Ep. 32.\n\n      \u201cIn consequence of the letter which you wrote to me about Varro, I\n      have taken the Academy entirely out of the hands of those\n      distinguished persons, and transferred it to our friend. And from\n      two books I have made it into four. These are longer than the others\n      were, though there are several parts left out.... In truth, if my\n      self-love does not deceive me, these books have come out in such a\n      manner that there is nothing of the same kind like them even in\n      Greek.\u201d\u2014Ep. 13.\n\n      \u201cI have transferred the whole of that Academical Treatise to Varro.\n      It had at first been divided among Catulus, Lucullus, and\n      Hortensius. Afterwards, as this appeared unsuitable, owing to those\n      persons being, not indeed unlearned, but notoriously unversed in\n      such subjects, as soon as I got home I transferred those dialogues\n      to Cato and Brutus. Your letter about Varro has just reached me, and\n      there is no one by whom the opinions of Antiochus could be more\n      fitly supported.\u201d\u2014Ep. 16.\n\n      \u201cI had determined to include no living persons in my dialogues; but\n      since you inform me that Varro is desirous of it, and sets a great\n      value upon it, I have composed this work, and completed the whole\n      Academical Discussion in four books; I know not how well, but with\n      such care that nothing can exceed it. In these, what had been\n      excellently collected by Antiochus against the doctrine of\n      incomprehensibility, I have attributed to Varro; to this I reply in\n      my own person, and you are the third in our conversation. If I had\n      made Cotta and Varro disputing with one another, as you suggest in\n      your last letter, my own would have been a mute character....\n\n      \u201cThe Academics, as you know, I had discussed in the persons of\n      Catulus, Lucullus, and Hortensius; but in truth the subject did not\n      suit their characters, being more logical than what they could be\n      supposed ever to have dreamt of. Therefore, when I read your letter\n      to Varro, I seized on it as a sort of inspiration. Nothing could be\n      more adapted to that species of philosophy in which he seems to take\n      particular delight; or to the support of such a part that I could\n      manage to avoid making my own sentiments predominant. For the\n      opinions of Antiochus are extremely persuasive, and are so carefully\n      expressed as to retain the acuteness of Antiochus with my own\n      brilliancy of language, if indeed I possess any.\u201d\u2014Ep. 19.\n\n      The Antiochus mentioned above was a native of Ascalon, and the\n      founder of the fifth Academy; he had been the teacher of Cicero\n      while he studied at Athens; and he had also a school in Syria and\n      another in Alexandria. Cicero constantly speaks of him with great\n      regard and esteem. The leaders of the Academy since the time of\n      Plato, (and Cicero ranks even him among those philosophers who\n      denied the certainty of any kind of knowledge,) had gradually fallen\n      into a degree of scepticism that seemed to strike at the root of all\n      truth, theoretical and practical. But Antiochus professed to revive\n      the doctrines of the old Academy, maintaining, in opposition to\n      Carneades and Philo, that the intellect had in itself a test by\n      which it could distinguish between what was real and what existed\n      only in the imagination. He himself appears to have held doctrines\n      very nearly coinciding with those of Aristotle; agreeing however so\n      far with the Stoics as to insist that all emotions ought to be\n      suppressed. So that Cicero almost inclines to class him among the\n      Stoics; though it appears that he considered himself as an Eclectic\n      philosopher, uniting the doctrines of the Stoics and Academics so as\n      to revive the old Academy.\n\n    2 Titus Pomponius Atticus was three years older than Cicero, with whom\n      he had been educated, and with whom he always continued on terms of\n      the greatest intimacy; his daughter was married to Agrippa. He was\n      of the Epicurean school in philosophy. He died B.C. 32.\n\n    3 Marcus Terentius Varro was ten years older than Cicero, and a man of\n      the most extensive and profound learning. He had held a naval\n      command against the pirates, and against Mithridates, and served as\n      lieutenant to Pompey in Spain, at the beginning of the civil war,\n      adhering to his party till after the battle of Pharsalia, when he\n      was pardoned, and taken into favour by C\u00e6sar. He was proscribed by\n      the second triumvirate, but escaped, and died B.C. 28. He was a very\n      voluminous author, and according to his own account composed four\n      hundred and ninety books; but only one, the three books De Re\n      Rustic\u00e2, have come down to us, and a portion of a large treatise De\n      Lingu\u00e2 Latin\u00e2.\n\n      In philosophy he had been a pupil of Antiochus, and attached himself\n      to the Academy with something of a leaning to the Stoics.\n\n    4 Amafanius was one of the earliest Roman writers of the Epicurean\n      school. He is mentioned by no one but Cicero.\n\n    5 We do not know who this Rabirius was.\n\n    6 Lucius \u00c6lius Pr\u00e6coninus Stilo was a Roman knight, and one of the\n      earliest grammarians of Rome. Cicero in the Brutus describes him as\n      a very learned man in both Greek and Roman literature; and\n      especially in old Latin works. He had been a teacher of Varro in\n      grammar, and of Cicero himself in rhetoric. He received the name of\n      Stilo from his compositions; and of Pr\u00e6coninus because his father\n      had been a herald.\n\n    7 Menippus was originally a slave, a native of Gadara in C\u0153le Syria,\n      and a pupil of Diogenes the Cynic. He became very rich by usury,\n      afterwards he lost his money and committed suicide. He wrote nothing\n      serious, but his books were entirely full of jests. We have some\n      fragments of Varro\u2019s Satyr\u00e6 Menippe\u00e6, which were written, as we are\n      here told, in imitation of Menippus.\n\n    8 Cicero ranges these poets here in chronological order.\n\n      Ennius was born at Rudi\u00e6 in Calabria, B.C. 239, of a very noble\n      family. He was brought to Rome by M. Porcius Cato at the end of the\n      second Punic war. His plays were all translations or adaptations\n      from the Greek; but he also wrote a poetical history of Rome called\n      Annales, in eighteen books, and a poem on his friend Scipio\n      Africanus; some Satires, Epigrams, and one or two philosophical\n      poems. Only a few lines of his works remain to us. He died at the\n      age of seventy.\n\n      Pacuvius was a native of Brundusium, and a relation, probably a\n      nephew, of Ennius. He was born about B.C. 220, and lived to about\n      the year B.C. 130. His works were nearly entirely tragedies\n      translated from the Greek. Horace, distinguishing between him and\n      Accius, says\u2014\n\n      \u201cAufert\n      Pacuvius docti famam senis; Accius alti.\u201d\u2014Epist. II. i. 55.\n\n    9 From \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03ad\u03c9, to walk.\n\n   10 This Lucius Lucullus was the son of Lucius Licinius Lucullus, who\n      was pr\u00e6tor B.C. 103, and was appointed by the senate to take the\n      command in Sicily, where there was a formidable insurrection of the\n      slaves under Athenion and Tryphon. He was not however successful,\n      and was recalled; and subsequently prosecuted by Servilius for\n      bribery and malversation, convicted and banished. The exact time of\n      the birth of this Lucullus his son is not known, but was probably\n      about B.C. 109. His first appearance in public life was prosecuting\n      Servilius, who had now become an augur, on a criminal charge, (which\n      is what Cicero alludes to here.) And though the trial terminated in\n      the acquittal of Servilius, yet the part Lucullus took in it appears\n      to have added greatly to his credit among his contemporaries. The\n      special law in his favour mentioned a few lines lower down, was\n      passed by Sylla with whom Lucullus was in high favour; so much so\n      that Sylla at his death confided to him the charge of revising and\n      correcting his Commentaries. Cicero\u2019s statement of his perfect\n      inexperience in military affairs before the war against Mithridates\n      is not quite correct, as he had served with distinction in the\n      Marsic war. The time of his death is not certainly known, but Cicero\n      speaks of him as dead in the Oration concerning the consular\n      provinces, delivered B.C. 56, while he was certainly alive B.C. 59,\n      in which year he was charged by L. Vettius with an imaginary plot\n      against the life of Pompey. His second wife was Servilia,\n      half-sister to Cato Uticensis.\n\n   11 From \u03c3\u03c9\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2, a heap.\n\n   12 From \u03bc\u03cd\u03c1\u03bc\u03b7\u03be an ant.\n\n   13 It is not even known to what work Cicero is referring here.\n\n   14 In the Heautontimorumenos. Act i. Sc. 1.\n\n   15 C\u00e6cilius Statius was the predecessor of Terence; by birth an\n      Insubrian Gaul and a native of Milan. He died B.C. 165, two years\n      before the representation of the Andria of Terence. He was\n      considered by the Romans as a great master of the art of exciting\n      the feelings. And Cicero (de Opt. Gen. Dic. 1.) speaks of him as the\n      chief of the Roman Comic writers. Horace says\u2014\n\n      Vincere C\u00e6cilius gravitate, Terentius arte.\n\n   16 Marcus Atilius, (though Cicero speaks of him here as a tragedian,)\n      was chiefly celebrated as a comic poet. He was one of the earliest\n      writers of that class; but nothing of his has come down to us. In\n      another place Cicero calls him \u201cduris simusscriptor.\u201d (Epist. ad\n      Att. xiv. 20.)\n\n   17 Diogenes was a pupil of Chrysippus, and succeeded Zeno of Tarsus as\n      the head of the Stoic school at Athens. He was one of the embassy\n      sent to Rome by the Athenians, B.C. 155, and is supposed to have\n      died almost immediately afterwards.\n\n   18 Antipater was a native of Tarsus, and the pupil and successor of\n      Diogenes. Cicero speaks in very high terms of his genius. (De Off.\n      iii. 12.)\n\n   19 Mnesarchus was a pupil of Pan\u00e6tius and the teacher of Antiochus of\n      Ascalon.\n\n   20 Pan\u00e6tius was a Rhodian, a pupil of Diogenes and Antipater, which\n      last he succeeded as head of the Stoic school. He was a friend of P.\n      Scipio \u00c6milianus, and accompanied him on his embassy to the kings of\n      Egypt and Asia in alliance with Rome. He died before B.C. 111.\n\n   21 Posidonius was a native of Apamea, in Egypt, a pupil of Pan\u00e6tius,\n      and a contemporary of Cicero. He came to Rome B.C. 51, having been\n      sent there as ambassador from Rhodes in the time of Marius.\n\n   22 Lucius Afranius lived about 100 B.C. His comedies were chiefly\n      _togat\u00e6_, depicting Roman life; he borrowed largely from Menander,\n      to whom the Romans compared him. Horace says\u2014\n\n      Dicitur Afran\u00ee toga convenisse Menandro.\n\n      Cicero praises his language highly (Brut. 45).\n\n   23 Caius Lucilius was the earliest of the Roman satirists, born at\n      Suessa Aurunca, B.C. 148; he died at Naples, B.C. 103. He served\n      under Scipio in the Numantine war. He was a very vehement and bold\n      satirist. Cicero alludes here to a saying of his, which he mentions\n      more expressly (De Orat. ii.), that he did not wish the ignorant to\n      read his works because they could not understand them: nor the\n      learned because they would be able to criticise them.\n\n      Persium non curo legere: L\u00e6lium Decimum volo.\n\n      This Persius being a very learned man; in comparison with whom\n      L\u00e6lius was an ignoramus.\n\n   24 Poly\u00e6nus, the son of Athenodorus was a native of Lampsacus: he was a\n      friend of Epicurus, and though he had previously obtained a high\n      reputation as a mathematician, he was persuaded by him at last to\n      agree with him as to the worthlessness of geometry.\n\n   25 Hieronymus was a disciple of Aristotle and a contemporary of\n      Arcesilaus. He lived down to the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus.\n\n   26 Trabea was a Roman comic poet, who flourished about 130 B.C.\n\n   27 Dark, obscure.\n\n   28 We know nothing more of Callipho than what we derive from this and\n      one or two other notices of him by Cicero.\n\n   29 The Hymnis was a comedy of Menander, translated by C\u00e6cilius.\n\n   30 It is hardly possible to translate this so as to give the force of\n      the original. Cicero says, If _cupiditas_ is in a man he must be\n      _cupidus_, and we have no English word which will at all answer to\n      this adjective in this sense.\n\n   31 The Latin is \u201cquicum in tenebris,\u201d\u2014the proverb at full length being,\n      \u201cDignus quicum in tenebris mices.\u201d Micare was a game played, (much\n      the same as that now called _La Mora_ in Italy,) by extending the\n      fingers and making the antagonist guess how many fingers were\n      extended by the two together.\n\n   32 This was Quintus Pompeius, the first man who raised his family to\n      importance at Rome. He was consul B.C. 141. Being commander in\n      Spain, he laid siege to Numantia; and having lost great numbers of\n      his troops through cold and disease, he proposed to the Numantines\n      to come to terms. Publicly he required of them an unconditional\n      surrender, but in private he only demanded the restoration of the\n      prisoners and deserters, that they should give hostages and pay\n      thirty talents. The Numantines agreed to this, and paid part of the\n      money, but when Popilius L\u00e6nas arrived in Spain as his successor, he\n      denied the treaty, though it had been witnessed by his own officers.\n      The matter was referred to the senate, who on the evidence of\n      Pompeius declared the treaty invalid, and the war was renewed.\n\n   33 The Voconia lex was passed on the proposal of Quintus Voconius Saxa,\n      one of the tribunes, B.C. 169. One of its provisions was, that a\n      woman could not be left the heiress of any person who was rated in\n      the census at 100,000 sesterces; though she could take the\n      inheritance _per fidei commissum_. But as the law applied only to\n      wills, a daughter could inherit from a father dying intestate,\n      whatever the amount of his property might be. A person who was not\n      _census_ could make a woman his heir. There is, however, a good deal\n      of obscurity and uncertainty as to some of the provisions of this\n      law.\n\n   34 There appears to be some corruption in the text here.\n\n   35 Spurius Lucretius Tricipitinus, the father of Lucretia, was made\n      consul as the colleague of Valerius Publicola, in the place of\n      Brutus, who had been slain in battle by Aruns, one of the sons of\n      Tarquin.\n\n   36 Themista was a female philosopher, wife of a man named Leonteus, or\n      Leon, and a friend and correspondent of Epicurus.\n\n   37 He means when he was banished, and when Torquatus joined in\n      promoting the measures for his recal.\n\n   38 Cicero alludes here to the story of Damon, who, when his friend\n      Pythias was condemned to death by Dionysius of Syracuse, pledged his\n      life for his return in time to be put to death, if the tyrant would\n      give him leave to go home for the purpose of arranging his affairs,\n      and Pythias did return in time.\u2014See Cic. de Off. iii. 10; Just. Div.\n      v. 22.\n\n   39 B.C. 363.\n\n   40 B.C. 480.\n\n   41 The Greek line occurs in the Orestes, 207.\n\n      \u1f69 \u03c0\u03cc\u03c4\u03bd\u03b9\u03b1 \u03bb\u03ae\u03b8\u03b7 \u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f61\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f36 \u03b3\u03bb\u03c5\u03ba\u03cd.\n\n      Virgil has the same idea\u2014\n\n      Vos et Scyll\u00e6am rabiem, penitusque sonantes\n      Acc\u00eatis scopulos, vos et Cyclopia saxa\n      Experti; revocate animos, moestumque timorem\n      Pellite: forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit.\u2014\u00c6n. i. 200.\n\n      Which Dryden translates\u2014\n\n      With me the rocks of Scylla have you tried,\n      Th\u2019 inhuman Cyclops and his den defied:\n      What greater ills hereafter can you bear?\n      Resume your courage and dismiss your care;\n      An hour will come with pleasure to relate\n      Your sorrows past as benefits of fate.\n\n   42 That is, of the past, the present, and the future.\n\n   43 This seems to refer to the Greek epigram\u2014\n\n      \u03a4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b3\u03b1\u03af\u03b7\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u1f00\u03bc\u03b5\u03b9\u03c6\u03b8\u03b5\u03af\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b5\u03bb\u03b5\u03cd\u03b8\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2,\n      \u039d\u03b1\u03cd\u03c4\u03b7\u03bd \u1f20\u03c0\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5, \u03c0\u03b5\u03b6\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03ac\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2.\n      \u1f18\u03bd \u03c4\u03c1\u03af\u03c3\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03bf\u03c1\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd \u1f11\u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03ac\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03b3\u03b5\u03bd \u1f0c\u03c1\u03b7\u03c2\n      \u03a3\u03c0\u03ac\u03c1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f30\u03c3\u03c7\u03c5\u03bd\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u1fbd \u03bf\u1f54\u03c1\u03b5\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b5\u03bb\u03ac\u03b3\u03b7.\n\n      Which may be translated\u2014\n\n      Him who the paths of land and sea disturb\u2019d,\n      Sail\u2019d o\u2019er the earth, walk\u2019d o\u2019er the humbled waves,\n      Three hundred spears of dauntless Sparta curb\u2019d.\n      Shame on you, land and sea, ye willing slaves!\n\n   44 The Latin is _\u00e6rumn\u00e6_: perhaps it is in allusion to this passage\n      that Juvenal says\u2014\n\n      Et potiores\n      Herculis _\u00e6rumnas_ credat, s\u00e6vosque labores\n      Et Venere et c\u0153nis, et pluma Sardanapali.\n\n      Sat. x. 361.\n\n   45 The great Lucullus, father of this young Lucullus, was married to\n      Servilia, half-sister to Cato, and daughter of Quintus Servilius\n      C\u00e6pio, who was killed in the Social war, having been decoyed into an\n      ambush by Pomp\u00e6dius, B.C. 90. The young Lucullus was afterwards\n      killed in the battle of Philippi.\n\n   46 \u201cMalitia, badness of quality ... especially malice, ill-will, spite,\n      malevolence, artfulness, cunning, craft.\u201d\u2014Riddle and Arnold, Lat.\n      Dict.\n\n   47 The Greek proverb was, \u1f10\u03bc\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b3\u03b1\u1fd6\u03b1 \u03bc\u03b9\u03c7\u03b8\u03ae\u03c4\u03c9 \u03c0\u03c5\u03c1\u03af.\n\n   48 The Curia Hostilia was built by Tullus Hostilius, and was originally\n      the only place where a Senatus Consultum could be passed, though the\n      senate met at times in other places. But, under C\u00e6sar, the Curia\n      Julia, an immense edifice, had been built as the senate-house.\n\n   49 Pope\u2019s Homer, Odys. xii. 231.\n\n   50 Archilochus was a native of Paros, and flourished about 714-676,\n      B.C. His poems were chiefly Iambics of bitter satire. Horace speaks\n      of him 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\n      Epist. I. xix. 25.\n\n      And in another place he says\u2014\n\n      Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Iambo.\u2014A. P. 74.\n\n   51 This was Livius Andronicus: he is supposed to have been a native of\n      Tarentum, and he was made prisoner by the Romans, during their wars\n      in Southern Italy; owing to which he became the slave of M. Livius\n      Salinator. He wrote both comedies and tragedies, of which Cicero\n      (Brutus 18) speaks very contemptuously, as \u201cLivian\u00e6 fabul\u00e6 non satis\n      dign\u00e6 qu\u00e6 iterum legantur,\u201d\u2014not worth reading a second time. He also\n      wrote a Latin Odyssey, and some hymns, and died probably about B.C.\n      221.\n\n   52 C. Fabius, surnamed Pictor, painted the temple of Salus, which the\n      dictator C. Junius Brutus Bubulus dedicated B.C. 302. The temple was\n      destroyed by fire in the reign of Claudius. The painting is highly\n      praised by Dionysius, xvi. 6.\n\n   53 For an account of the ancient Greek philosophers, see the sketch at\n      the end of the volume.\n\n   54 Isocrates was born at Athens, B.C. 436. He was a pupil of Gorgias,\n      Prodicus and Socrates. He opened a school of rhetoric, at Athens,\n      with great success. He died by his own hand at the age of 98.\n\n   55 So Horace joins these two classes as inventors of all kinds of\n      improbable fictions\u2014\n\n      Pictoribus atque poetis\n      Quidlibet audendi semper fuit \u00e6qua potestas.\u2014A. P. 9.\n\n      Which Roscommon translates\u2014\n\n      Painters and poets have been still allow\u2019d\n      Their pencil and their fancies unconfined.\n\n   56 Epicharmus was a native of Cos, but lived at Megara, in Sicily, and\n      when Megara was destroyed, removed to Syracuse, and lived at the\n      court of Hiero, where he became the first writer of comedies, so\n      that Horace ascribes the invention of comedy to him, and so does\n      Theocritus. He lived to a great age.\n\n   57 Pherecydes was a native of Scyros, one of the Cyclades; and is said\n      to have obtained his knowledge from the secret books of the\n      Ph\u0153nicians. He is said also to have been a pupil of Pittacus, the\n      rival of Thales, and the master of Pythagoras. His doctrine was that\n      there were three principles, \u0396\u03b5\u1f7a\u03c2, or \u00c6ther, \u03a7\u03b8\u1f7c\u03bd, or Chaos, and\n      \u03a7\u03c1\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2, or Time; and four elements, Fire, Earth, Air, and Water,\n      from which everything that exists was formed.\u2014Vide Smith\u2019s Dict.\n      Gr., and Rom. Biog.\n\n   58 Archytas was a native of Tarentum, and is said to have saved the\n      life of Plato by his influence with the tyrant Dionysius. He was\n      especially great as a mathematician and geometrician, so that Horace\n      calls him\n\n      Maris et terr\u00e6 numeroque carentis aren\u00e6\n      Mensorem\u2014Od. i. 28. 1.\n\n      Plato is supposed to have learnt some of his views from him, and\n      Aristotle to nave borrowed from him every idea of the Categories.\n\n   59 This was not Tim\u00e6us the historian, but a native of Locri, who is\n      said also in the De Finibus (c. 29) to have been a teacher of Plato.\n      There is a treatise extant bearing his name, which is, however,\n      probably spurious, and only an abridgment of Plato\u2019s dialogue\n      Tim\u00e6us.\n\n   60 Dic\u00e6archus was a native of Messana, in Sicily, though he lived\n      chiefly in Greece; he was one of the later disciples of Aristotle.\n      He was a great geographer, politician, historian, and philosopher,\n      and died about B.C. 285.\n\n   61 Aristoxenus was a native of Tarentum, and also a pupil of Aristotle.\n      We know nothing of his opinions except that he held the soul to be a\n      _harmony_ of the body; a doctrine which had been already discussed\n      by Plato in the Ph\u00e6do, and combated by Aristotle. He was a great\n      musician, and the chief portions of his works which have come down\n      to us are fragments of some musical treatises.\u2014Smith\u2019s Dict. Gr. and\n      Rom. Biog., to which source I must acknowledge my obligation for\n      nearly the whole of these biographical notes.\n\n   62 The Simonides here meant, is the celebrated poet of Ceos, the\n      perfecter of Elegiac poetry among the Greeks. He flourished about\n      the time of the Persian war. Besides his poetry, he is said to have\n      been the inventor of some method of aiding the memory. He died at\n      the court of Hiero, B.C. 467.\n\n   63 Theodectes was a native of Phaselis, in Pamphylia, a distinguished\n      rhetorician and tragic poet, and flourished in the time of Philip of\n      Macedon. He was a pupil of Isocrates, and lived at Athens, and died\n      there at the age of 41.\n\n   64 Cineas was a Thessalian, and (as is said in the text) came to Rome\n      as ambassador from Pyrrhus after the battle of Heraclea, B.C. 280,\n      and his memory is said to have been so great that on the day after\n      his arrival he was able to address all the senators and knights by\n      name. He probably died before Pyrrhus returned to Italy, B.C. 276.\n\n   65 Charmadas, called also Charmides, was a fellow pupil with Philo, the\n      Lariss\u00e6an of Clitomachus, the Carthaginian. He is said by some\n      authors to have founded a fourth academy.\n\n   66 Metrodorus was a minister of Mithridates the Great; and employed by\n      him as supreme judge in Pontus, and afterwards as an ambassador.\n      Cicero speaks of him in other places (De Orat. ii. 88) as a man of\n      wonderful memory.\n\n   67 Quintus Hortensius was eight years older than Cicero; and, till\n      Cicero\u2019s fame surpassed his, he was accounted the most eloquent of\n      all the Romans. He was Verres\u2019s counsel in the prosecution conducted\n      against him by Cicero. Seneca relates that his memory was so great\n      that he could come out of an auction and repeat the catalogue\n      backwards. He died B.C. 50.\n\n   68 This treatise is one which has not come down to us, but which had\n      been lately composed by Cicero in order to comfort himself for the\n      loss of his daughter.\n\n   69 The epigram is\u2014\n\n      \u0395\u1f34\u03c0\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f2d\u03bb\u03b9\u03b5 \u03c7\u03b1\u1fd6\u03c1\u03b5, \u039a\u03bb\u03b5\u03cc\u03bc\u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f4d\u03bc\u03b2\u03c1\u03b1\u03ba\u03b9\u03ce\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2\n      \u1f25\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u1fbd \u1f00\u03c6\u1fbd \u03cd\u03c8\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03b5\u03af\u03c7\u03b5\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u1f08\u03af\u03b4\u03b7\u03bd,\n      \u1f04\u03be\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u1f30\u03b4\u1f7c\u03bd \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1f78\u03bd, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03a0\u03bb\u03ac\u03c4\u03c9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f14\u03bd \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1f76 \u03c8\u03cd\u03c7\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b3\u03c1\u03ac\u03bc\u03bc\u1fbd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03be\u03ac\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2.\n\n      Which may be translated, perhaps\u2014\n\n      Farewell, O sun, Cleombrotus exclaim\u2019d,\n      Then plung\u2019d from off a height beneath the sea;\n      Stung by pain, of no disgrace ashamed,\n      But mov\u2019d by Plato\u2019s high philosophy.\n\n   70 This is alluded to by Juvenal\u2014\n\n      Provida Pompeio dederat Campania febres\n      Optandas: sed mult\u00e6 urbes et publica vota\n      Vicerunt. Igitur Fortuna ipsius et Urbis,\n      Servatum victo caput abstulit.\u2014Sat. x. 283.\n\n   71 Pompey\u2019s second wife was Julia, the daughter of Julius C\u00e6sar; she\n      died the year before the death of Crassus, in Parthia. Virgil speaks\n      of C\u00e6sar and Pompey as relations, using the same expression (socer)\n      as Cicero\u2014\n\n      Aggeribus socer Alpinis atque arce Mon\u0153ci\n      Descendens, gener adversis instructus Eois.\u2014\u00c6n. vi. 830.\n\n   72 This idea is beautifully expanded by Byron:\u2014\n\n      Yet if, as holiest men have deem\u2019d, there be\n      A land of souls beyond that sable shore\n      To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee\n      And sophist, madly vain of dubious lore,\n      How sweet it were in concert to adore\n      With those who made our mortal labours light,\n      To hear each voice we fear\u2019d to hear no more,\n      Behold each mighty shade reveal\u2019d to sight,\n      The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the right.\n\n      _Childe Harold_, ii. 8.\n\n   73 The epitaph in the original is,\u2014\n\n      \u1f6d \u03be\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u1fbd \u1f00\u03b3\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u039b\u03b1\u03ba\u03b5\u03b4\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c4\u1fc7\u03b4\u03b5\n      \u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bc\u03b5\u03b8\u03b1, \u03c4\u03bf\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03b8\u03cc\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bd\u03bf\u03bc\u03af\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n   74 This was expressed in the Greek verses\u2014\n\n      \u1f08\u03c1\u03c7\u1f74\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c6\u1fe6\u03bd\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f04\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd,\n      \u03c6\u03cd\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f45\u03c0\u03c9\u03c2 \u1f64\u03ba\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03cd\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f08\u03af\u03b4\u03b1\u03bf \u03c0\u03b5\u03c1\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9;\n\n      which by some authors are attributed to Homer.\n\n   75 This is the first fragment of the Cresphontes.\u2014Ed. Var. vii. p. 594\n\n      \u1f1c\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9 \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u1f21\u03bc\u1fb6\u03c2 \u03c3\u03cd\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03b3\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2\n      \u03a4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c6\u03cd\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b8\u03c1\u03b7\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd, \u03b5\u1f76\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c3\u1fbd \u1f14\u03c1\u03c7\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03ac.\n      \u03a4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u1fbd \u03b1\u1f56 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03cc\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u03c0\u03b5\u03c0\u03b1\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03c7\u03b1\u03af\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c6\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u1fd6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba\u03c0\u03ad\u03bc\u03c0\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03b4\u03cc\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd.\n\n   76 The Greek verses are quoted by Plutarch\u2014\n\n      ... \u1f2c\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bd\u03ae\u03c0\u03b9\u03b5, \u1f20\u03bb\u03af\u03b8\u03b9\u03bf\u03b9 \u03c6\u03c1\u03ad\u03bd\u03b5\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u1fb6\u03bd\n      \u0395\u1f50\u03b8\u03cd\u03bd\u03bf\u03bf\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03b9\u03b4\u03af\u1ff3 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c4\u1ff3\n      \u039f\u1f50\u03ba \u1f26\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03b6\u03ce\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u1f78\u03bd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03bf\u1f44\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b3\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u1fe6\u03c3\u03b9.\n\n   77 This refers to the story that when Eumolpus, the son of Neptune,\n      whose assistance the Eleusinians had called in against the\n      Athenians, had been slain by the Athenians, an oracle demanded the\n      sacrifice of one of the daughters of Erechtheus, the King of Athens.\n      And when one was drawn by lot, the others voluntarily accompanied\n      her to death.\n\n   78 Men\u0153ceus was son of Creon, and in the war of the Argives against\n      Thebes, Teresias declared that the Thebans should conquer if\n      Men\u0153ceus would sacrifice himself for his country; and accordingly he\n      killed himself outside the gates of Thebes.\n\n   79 The Greek is,\n\n      \u03bc\u03ae\u03b4\u03b5 \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f04\u03ba\u03bb\u03b1\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bc\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9, \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c6\u03af\u03bb\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\n      \u03c0\u03bf\u03b9\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9\u03bc\u03b9 \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u1f7c\u03bd \u1f04\u03bb\u03b3\u03b5\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd\u03b1\u03c7\u03ac\u03c2.\n\n   80 Soph. Trach. 1047.\n\n   81 The lines quoted by Cicero here, appear to have come from the Latin\n      play of Prometheus by Accius; the ideas are borrowed rather than\n      translated from the Prometheus of \u00c6schylus.\n\n   82 From Exerceo.\n\n   83 Each soldier carried a stake, to help form a palisade in front of\n      the camp.\n\n   84 Insania\u2014from _in_, a particle of negative force in composition, and\n      _sanus_, healthy, sound.\n\n   85 The man who first received this surname was L. Calpurnius Piso, who\n      was consul, B.C. 133, in the Servile War.\n\n   86 The Greek is\u2014\n\n      \u1f08\u03bb\u03bb\u03ac \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bf\u1f30\u03b4\u03ac\u03bd\u03b5\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03c1\u03b1\u03b4\u03af\u03bd \u03c7\u03cc\u03bb\u03c9 \u1f45\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4 \u1f10\u03ba\u03b5\u03af\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\n      \u039c\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03bf\u03bc\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f45\u03c2 \u03bc\u1fbd \u1f00\u03c3\u03cd\u03c6\u03b7\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd \u1f08\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u03af\u03bf\u03b9\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f14\u03c1\u03b5\u03be\u03b5\u03bd.\u2014Il. ix. 642.\n\n      I have given Pope\u2019s translation in the text.\n\n   87 This is from the Theseus\u2014\n\n      \u1f18\u03b3\u1f7c \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf \u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u1f70 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bc\u03b1\u03b8\u1f7c\u03bd\n      \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03af\u03b4\u03b1\u03c2 \u03bd\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u03ac\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fbd \u1f10\u03b2\u03b1\u03bb\u03bb\u03cc\u03bc\u03b7\u03bd\n      \u03c6\u03c5\u03b3\u03ac\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fbd \u1f10\u03bc\u03b1\u03c5\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b8\u03b5\u1f76\u03c2 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c4\u03c1\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bc\u1fc6\u03c2.\n      \u03b8\u03b1\u03bd\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c4\u1fbd \u1f00\u03ce\u03c1\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f04\u03bb\u03bb\u03b1\u03c2 \u1f41\u03b4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2\n      \u1f65\u03c2, \u03b5\u1f34 \u03c4\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c3\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9\u03c5\u03bc\u1fbd \u1f66\u03bd \u1f10\u03b4\u03bf\u03be\u03b1\u03b6\u03cc\u03bd \u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5\n      \u039c\u03ae \u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bd\u03ad\u03bf\u03c1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03c3\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u1f78\u03bd \u03bc\u1fb6\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd \u03b4\u03ac\u03ba\u03bf\u03b9.\n\n   88 Ter. Phorm. II. i. 11.\n\n   89 This refers to the speech of Agamemnon in Euripides, in the\n      Iphigenia in Aulis\u2014\n\n      ... \u0396\u03b7\u03bb\u1ff6 \u03c3\u03b5, \u03b3\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd,\n      \u03b6\u03b7\u03bb\u1ff6 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u1ff6\u03bd \u1f45\u03c2 \u1f00\u03ba\u03af\u03bd\u03b4\u03c5\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd\n      \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u1f10\u03be\u03b5\u03c0\u03ad\u03c1\u03b1\u03c3, \u1f00\u03b3\u03bd\u1f7c\u03c2, \u1f00\u03ba\u03bb\u03b5\u03ae\u03c2.\u2014v. 15.\n\n   90 This is a fragment from the Hypsipyle\u2014\n\n      \u1f1c\u03c6\u03c5 \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bd\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u1ff6\u03bd;\n      \u03b8\u03ac\u03c0\u03c4\u03b5\u03b9 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03c4\u03ad\u03ba\u03bd\u03b1 \u03c7\u03ac\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u1fbd \u03b1\u1f56 \u03ba\u03c4\u1fb6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bd\u03b5\u1f70,\n      \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03b8\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9. \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03ac\u03b4\u1fbd \u1f04\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03b2\u03c1\u03bf\u03c4\u03bf\u1f76\n      \u03b5\u1f30\u03c2 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd \u03c6\u03ad\u03c1\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2 \u03b3\u1fc6\u03bd; \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03b3\u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f14\u03c7\u03b5\u03b9\n      \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03b5\u03c1\u03af\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f66\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03ac\u03c1\u03c0\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03c3\u03c4\u03ac\u03c7\u03c5\u03bd.\n\n   91 \u03a0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70\u03c2 \u1f10\u03ba \u03ba\u03b5\u03c6\u03b1\u03bb\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03bf\u03b8\u03b5\u03bb\u03cd\u03bc\u03bd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u1f15\u03bb\u03ba\u03b5\u03c4\u03bf \u03c7\u03b1\u03af\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2.\u2014Il. x. 15.\n\n   92 \u0397\u03c4\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bf \u03ba\u03b1\u03c0\u03c0\u03b5\u03b4\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03c4\u03bf \u0391\u03bb\u03b7\u03b9\u03bf\u03bd \u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\n      \u03bf\u03bd \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b5\u03b4\u03c9\u03bd, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u03b1\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd \u03b1\u03bb\u03b5\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd.\u2014Il. vi. 201.\n\n   93 This is a translation from Euripides\u2014\n\n      \u1f6d\u03c3\u03b8\u1fbd \u1f35\u03bc\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2 \u03bc\u1fbd \u1f51\u03c0\u1fc6\u03bb\u03b8\u03b5 \u03b3\u1fc7 \u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u1fbd \u03bf\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u1ff7\n      \u03bb\u03ad\u03be\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03bf\u03bb\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u1fc3 \u03b4\u03b5\u1fe6\u03c1\u03bf \u039c\u03b7\u03b4\u03b5\u03af\u03b1\u03c2 \u03c4\u03cd\u03c7\u03b1\u03c2.\u2014Med. 57.\n\n   94 \u039b\u03af\u03b7\u03bd \u03b3\u1f70\u03c1 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u03bf\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f10\u03c0\u03ae\u03c4\u03c1\u03b9\u03bc\u03bf\u03b9 \u1f24\u03c5\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1 \u03c0\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\n      \u03c0\u03af\u03c0\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd, \u03c0\u03cc\u03c4\u03b5 \u03ba\u03ad\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b1\u03c0\u03bd\u03b5\u03cd\u03c3\u03b5\u03b9\u03b5 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf?\n      \u1f00\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c7\u03c1\u1f74 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03bc\u1f72\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b1\u03b8\u03b1\u03c0\u03c4\u03ad\u03bc\u03b5\u03bd, \u1f45\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b5 \u03b8\u03ac\u03bd\u03b7\u03c3\u03b9,\n      \u03bd\u03b7\u03bb\u03ad\u03b1 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u1f14\u03c7\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2, \u1f14\u03c0\u1fbd \u1f24\u03bc\u03b1\u03c4\u03b9 \u03b4\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u03c5\u03c3\u03ac\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1\u03c2.\u2014Hom. Il. xix. 226.\n\n   95 This is one of the fragments of Euripides which we are unable to\n      assign to any play in particular; it occurs Var. Ed. Tr. Inc. 167.\n\n      \u0395\u1f30 \u03bc\u03ad\u03bd \u03c4\u03cc\u03b4\u1fbd \u1f26\u03bc\u03b1\u03c1 \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd \u1f26\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u03bf\u03c5\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03c9\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03bc\u03b1\u03ba\u03c1\u1f70\u03bd \u03b4\u1f74 \u03b4\u03b9\u1f70 \u03c0\u03cc\u03bd\u03c9\u03bd \u1f10\u03bd\u03b1\u03c5\u03c3\u03c4\u03cc\u03bb\u03bf\u03c5\u03bd\n      \u03b5\u1f30\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2 \u03c3\u03c6\u03b1\u03b4\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd \u1f26\u03bd \u1f04\u03bd, \u1f61\u03c2 \u03bd\u03b5\u03cc\u03b6\u03c5\u03b3\u03b1\n      \u03c0\u1ff6\u03bb\u03bf\u03bd, \u03c7\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd \u1f00\u03c1\u03c4\u03af\u03c9\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b5\u03b4\u03b5\u03b3\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03bd;\n      \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f00\u03bc\u03b2\u03bb\u03cd\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03bc\u03b9, \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03c4\u03b7\u03c1\u03c4\u03c5\u03ba\u1f7c\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03bd.\n\n   96 This is only a fragment preserved by Stob\u00e6us\u2014\n\n      \u03a4\u03bf\u1f7a\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f04\u03bd \u03bc\u03b5\u03b3\u03af\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c3\u03bf\u03c6\u03c9\u03c4\u03ac\u03c4\u03bf\u03c5\u03c2 \u03c6\u03c1\u03b5\u03bd\u1f76\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u03b9\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b4\u1fbd \u1f34\u03b4\u03bf\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f04\u03bd, \u03bf\u1f37\u03cc\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9 \u03bd\u1fe6\u03bd \u1f45\u03b4\u03b5,\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u03bb\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03c0\u03c1\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u03bf\u03bd\u03c4\u03b9 \u03c3\u03c5\u03bc\u03c0\u03b1\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9\u03bd\u03ad\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9;\n      \u1f45\u03c4\u03b1\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03b4\u03b1\u03af\u03bc\u03c9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b4\u03c1\u1f78\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f50\u03c4\u03c5\u03c7\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03c0\u03c1\u1f76\u03bd\n      \u03bc\u03ac\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03b3\u1fbd \u1f10\u03c1\u03b5\u03af\u03c3\u03b7 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03b2\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03af\u03bd\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd,\n      \u03c4\u1f70 \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03bb\u1f70 \u03c6\u03c1\u03bf\u1fe6\u03b4\u03b1 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03ba\u03b1\u03ba\u1ff6\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c1\u03b7\u03bc\u03ad\u03bd\u03b1.\n\n   97 \u03a9\u03ba. \u039f\u1f50\u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6\u03bd \u03a0\u03c1\u03bf\u03bc\u03b7\u03b8\u03b5\u1fe6 \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c4\u03bf \u03b3\u03b9\u03b3\u03bd\u03ce\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f45\u03c4\u03b9\n      \u1f40\u03c1\u03b3\u1fc6\u03c2 \u03bd\u03bf\u03c3\u03bf\u03cd\u03c3\u03b7\u03c2 \u03b5\u1f30\u03c3\u1f76\u03bd \u1f30\u03b1\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u1f76 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03b9.\n      \u03a0\u03c1. \u1f10\u03ac\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u03b9\u03c1\u1ff7 \u03b3\u03b5 \u03bc\u03b1\u03bb\u03b8\u03ac\u03c3\u03c3\u03b7 \u03ba\u03ad\u03b1\u03c1\n      \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u1f74 \u03c3\u03c6\u03c1\u03b9\u03b3\u1ff6\u03bd\u03c4\u03b1 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03bd \u1f30\u03c3\u03c7\u03bd\u03b1\u03af\u03bd\u03b7 \u03b2\u03af\u1fb3.\n\n      \u00c6sch. Prom. v. 378.\n\n   98 Cicero alludes here to Il. vii. 211, which is thus translated by\n      Pope\u2014\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\u2019en Hector paused, and with new doubt oppress\u2019d,\n      Felt his great heart suspended in his breast;\n      \u2019Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to fear,\n      Himself had challenged, and the foe drew near.\n\n      But Melmoth (Note on the Familiar Letters of Cicero, book ii. Let.\n      23) rightly accuses Cicero of having misunderstood Homer, who \u201cby no\n      means represents Hector as being thus totally dismayed at the\n      approach of his adversary; and indeed it would have been\n      inconsistent with the general character of that hero to have\n      described him under such circumstances of terror.\u201d\n\n      \u03a4\u1f78\u03bd \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f08\u03c1\u03b3\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03b9 \u03bc\u03ad\u03b3\u1fbd \u1f10\u03b3\u03ae\u03b8\u03b5\u03bf\u03bd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c3\u03bf\u03c1\u03cc\u03c9\u03bd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c2,\n      \u03a4\u03c1\u03c9\u1f70\u03c2 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f36\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u03ae\u03bb\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5 \u03b3\u03c5\u1fd6\u03b1 \u1f15\u03ba\u03b1\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03bd,\n      \u1f1d\u03ba\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03b1\u1f50\u03c4\u1ff7 \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd.\n\n      But there is a great difference, as Dr. Clarke remarks, between\n      \u03b8\u03c5\u03bc\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bd\u1f76 \u03c3\u03c4\u03ae\u03b8\u03b5\u03c3\u03c3\u03b9 \u03c0\u03ac\u03c4\u03b1\u03c3\u03c3\u03b5\u03bd and \u03ba\u03b1\u03c1\u03b4\u03af\u03b7 \u1f14\u03be\u03c9 \u03c3\u03c4\u03b7\u03b8\u03ad\u03c9\u03bd \u1f14\u03b8\u03c1\u03c9\u03c3\u03ba\u03b5\u03bd, or\n      \u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b1\u1f36\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f51\u03c0\u03ae\u03bb\u03c5\u03b8\u03b5 \u03b3\u03c5\u1fd6\u03b1.\u2014_The Trojans_, says Homer, _trembled_ at\n      the sight of Ajax, and even Hector himself felt some emotion in his\n      breast.\n\n   99 Cicero means Scipio Nasica, who in the riots consequent on the\n      re-election of Tiberius Gracchus to the tribunate, B.C. 133, having\n      called in vain on the consul, Mucius Sc\u00e6vola, to save the republic,\n      attacked Gracchus himself, who was slain in the tumult.\n\n  100 Morosus is evidently derived from mores\u2014\u201cMorosus, mos, stubbornness,\n      selfwill, etc.\u201d\u2014Riddle and Arnold, Lat. Diet.\n\n  101 In the original they run thus:\u2014\n\n      \u039f\u1f54\u03ba \u1f10\u03c3\u03c4\u03b9\u03bd \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72\u03bd \u03b4\u03b5\u03b9\u03bd\u1f78\u03bd \u1f67\u03b4\u1fbd \u03b5\u1f30\u03c0\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd \u1f14\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2,\n      \u039f\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03c0\u03ac\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2, \u03bf\u1f50\u03b4\u1f72 \u03be\u03c5\u03bc\u03c6\u03bf\u03c1\u1f70 \u03b8\u03b5\u03ae\u03bb\u03b1\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2\n      \u1f2e\u03c2 \u03bf\u1f50\u03ba \u1f04\u03bd \u1f04\u03c1\u03bf\u03b9\u03c4\u1fbd \u1f04\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c6\u03cd\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2.\n\n  102 This passage is from the Eunuch of Terence, Act i. sc. 1, 14.\n\n  103 These verses are from the Atreus of Accius.\n\n  104 This was Marcus Atilius Regulus, the story of whose treatment by the\n      Carthaginians in the first Punic War is well known to everybody.\n\n  105 This was Quintus Servilius C\u00e6pio, who, B.C. 105, was destroyed, with\n      his army, by the Cimbri,\u2014it was believed as a judgment for the\n      covetousness which he had displayed in the plunder of Tolosa.\n\n  106 This was Marcus Aquilius, who, in the year B.C. 88, was sent against\n      Mithridates as one of the consular legates: and being defeated, was\n      delivered up to the king by the inhabitants of Mitylene. Mithridates\n      put him to death by pouring molten gold down his throat.\n\n  107 This was the elder brother of the triumvir Marcus Crassus, B.C. 87.\n      He was put to death by Fimbria, who was in command of some of the\n      troops of Marius.\n\n  108 Lucius C\u00e6sar and Caius C\u00e6sar were relations (it is uncertain in what\n      degree) of the great C\u00e6sar, and were killed by Fimbria on the same\n      occasion as Octavius.\n\n  109 M. Antonius was the grandfather of the triumvir; he was murdered the\n      same year, B.C. 87, by Annius, when Marius and Cinna took Rome.\n\n  110 This story is alluded to by Horace\u2014\n\n      Districtus ensis cui super impi\u00e2\n      Cervice pendet non Sicul\u00e6 dapes\n      Dulcem elaborabunt saporem,\n      Non avium cithar\u00e6ve cantus\n      Somnum reducent.\u2014iii. 1. 17.\n\n  111 Hieronymus was a Rhodian, and a pupil of Aristotle, flourishing\n      about 300 B.C. He is frequently mentioned by Cicero.\n\n  112 We know very little of Dinomachus. Some MSS. have Clitomachus.\n\n  113 Callipho was in all probability a pupil of Epicurus, but we have no\n      certain information about him.\n\n  114 Diodorus was a Syrian, and succeeded Critolaus as the head of the\n      Peripatetic School at Athens.\n\n  115 Aristo was a native of Ceos, and a pupil of Lycon, who succeeded\n      Stratton as the head of the Peripatetic School, B.C. 270. He\n      afterwards himself succeeded Lycon.\n\n  116 Pyrrho was a native of Elis, and the originator of the sceptical\n      theories of some of the ancient philosophers. He was a contemporary\n      of Alexander.\n\n  117 Herillus was a disciple of Zeno of Cittium, and therefore a Stoic.\n      He did not, however, follow all the opinions of his master: he held\n      that knowledge was the chief good. Some of the treatises of\n      Cleanthes were written expressly to confute him.\n\n  118 Anacharsis was (Herod, iv. 76) son of Gnurus and brother of Saulius,\n      king of Thrace. He came to Athens while Solon was occupied in\n      framing laws for his people; and by the simplicity of his way of\n      living, and his acute observations on the manners of the Greeks, he\n      excited such general admiration, that he was reckoned by some\n      writers among the seven wise men of Greece.\n\n  119 This was Appius Claudius C\u00e6cus, who was censor B.C. 310, and who,\n      according to Livy, was afflicted with blindness by the gods for\n      persuading the Potitii to instruct the public servants in the way of\n      sacrificing to Hercules. He it was who made the Via Appia.\n\n  120 The fact of Homer\u2019s blindness rests on a passage in the Hymn to\n      Apollo, quoted by Thucydides as a genuine work of Homer, and which\n      is thus spoken of by one of the most accomplished scholars that this\n      country or this age has ever produced:\u2014\u201cThey are indeed beautiful\n      verses, and if none worse had ever been attributed to Homer, the\n      Prince of Poets would have had little reason to complain.\n\n      \u201cHe has been describing the Delian festival in honour of Apollo and\n      Diana, and concludes this part of the poem with an address to the\n      women of that island, to whom it is to be supposed that he had\n      become familiarly known by his frequent recitations:\n\n      \u03a7\u03b1\u03af\u03c1\u03b5\u03c4\u03b5 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03c5\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9, \u1f10\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf \u03b4\u1f72 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03cc\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\n      \u03bc\u03bd\u03ae\u03c3\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u1fbd, \u1f45\u03c0\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03ad \u03ba\u03ad\u03bd \u03c4\u03b9\u03c2 \u1f10\u03c0\u03b9\u03c7\u03b8\u03bf\u03bd\u03af\u03c9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b8\u03c1\u03ce\u03c0\u03c9\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03bd\u03b8\u03ac\u03b4\u1fbd \u1f00\u03bd\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b7\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03be\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u03c4\u03b1\u03bb\u03b1\u03c0\u03b5\u03af\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03bb\u03b8\u1f7c\u03bd\n      \u1f66 \u03ba\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c1\u03b1\u03b9, \u03c4\u03af\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u1f55\u03bc\u03bc\u03b9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bd\u1f74\u03c1 \u1f25\u03b4\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u1ff6\u03bd\n      \u1f10\u03bd\u03b8\u03ac\u03b4\u03b5 \u03c0\u03c9\u03bb\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c4\u03b1\u03b9 \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u03c4\u03ad\u1ff3 \u03c4\u03ad\u03c1\u03c0\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5 \u03bc\u03ac\u03bb\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b1?\n      \u1f51\u03bc\u03b5\u1fd6\u03c2 \u03b4\u1fbd \u03b5\u1f56 \u03bc\u03ac\u03bb\u03b1 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u1f51\u03c0\u03bf\u03ba\u03c1\u03af\u03bd\u03b1\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5 \u1f00\u03c6\u1fbd \u1f21\u03bc\u1ff6\u03bd,\n      \u03a4\u03c5\u03c6\u03bb\u1f78\u03c2 \u1f00\u03bd\u1f74\u03c1, \u03bf\u1f30\u03ba\u03b5\u1fd6 \u03b4\u1f72 \u03a7\u03af\u1ff3 \u1f10\u03bd\u1f76 \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03c0\u03b1\u03bb\u03bf\u03ad\u03c3\u03c3\u1fc3,\n      \u03c4\u03bf\u1fe6 \u03c0\u1fb6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9 \u03bc\u03b5\u03c4\u03cc\u03c0\u03b9\u03c3\u03b8\u03b5\u03bd \u1f00\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03b5\u03cd\u03bf\u03c5\u03c3\u03b9\u03bd \u1f00\u03bf\u03b9\u03b4\u03b1\u03af.\n\n      Virgins, farewell,\u2014and oh! remember me\n      Hereafter, when some stranger from the sea,\n      A hapless wanderer, may your isle explore,\n      And ask you, \u201cMaids, of all the bards you boast,\n      Who sings the sweetest, and delights you most?\u201d\n      Oh! answer all,\u2014\u201cA blind old man, and poor,\n      Sweetest he sings, and dwells on Chios\u2019 rocky shore.\u201d\n\n      \u2014_Coleridge\u2019s Introduction to the Study of the Greek Classic Poets._","title":"The Academic Questions, Treatise De Finibus, and Tusculan Disputations, of M.T. Cicero, With a Sketch of the Greek Philosophers Mentioned by Cicero","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":214333}