CICERO'S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS;

ALSO, TREATISES ON

THE NATURE OF THE GODS, AND ON

THE COMMONWEALTH. 

LITERALLY TRANSLATED, CHIEFLY BYC. D. YONGE. 

NEW YORK:HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE. 1877. 

HARPER'S NEW CLASSICAL LIBRARY. 

COMPRISING LITERAL TRANSLATIONS OF

 CÆSAR. VIRGIL. SALLUST. HORACE. CICERO'S ORATIONS. CICERO'S OFFICES &c. CICERO ON ORATORY AND ORATORS. CICERO'S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS, the Republic, and the Nature of the Gods. TERENCE. TACITUS. LIVY. 2 Vols. JUVENAL. XENOPHON. HOMER'S ILIAD. HOMER'S ODYSSEY. HERODOTUS. DEMOSTHENES. 2 Vols. THUCIDIDES. ÆSCHYLUS. SOPHOCLES. EURIPIDES. 2 Vols. PLATO. [SELECT DIALOGUES. ]

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NOTE. 

The greater portion of the Republic was previously translated byFrancis Barham, Esq. , and published in 1841. Although ably performed, it was not sufficiently close for the purpose of the "CLASSICALLIBRARY, " and was therefore placed in the hands of the present editorfor revision, as well as for collation with recent texts. This hasoccasioned material alterations and additions. 

The treatise "On the Nature of the Gods" is a revision of that usuallyascribed to the celebrated Benjamin Franklin. 

CONTENTS. 

_Tusculan Disputations_

_On the Nature of the Gods_

_On the Commonwealth_

THE TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS. 

INTRODUCTION. 

In the year A. U. C. 708, and the sixty-second year of Cicero's age, hisdaughter, Tullia, died in childbed; and her loss afflicted Cicero tosuch a degree that he abandoned all public business, and, leaving thecity, retired to Asterra, which was a country house that he had nearAntium; where, after a while, he devoted himself to philosophicalstudies, and, besides other works, he published his Treatise deFinibus, and also this treatise called the Tusculan Disputations, ofwhich Middleton gives this concise description:

"The first book teaches us how to contemn the terrors of death, and tolook upon it as a blessing rather than an evil;

"The second, to support pain and affliction with a manly fortitude;

"The third, to appease all our complaints and uneasinesses under theaccidents of life;

"The fourth, to moderate all our other passions;

"And the fifth explains the sufficiency of virtue to make men happy. "

It was his custom in the opportunities of his leisure to take somefriends with him into the country, where, instead of amusing themselveswith idle sports or feasts, their diversions were wholly speculative, tending to improve the mind and enlarge the understanding. In thismanner he now spent five days at his Tusculan villa in discussing withhis friends the several questions just mentioned. For, after employingthe mornings in declaiming and rhetorical exercises, they used toretire in the afternoon into a gallery, called the Academy, which hehad built for the purpose of philosophical conferences, where, afterthe manner of the Greeks, he held a school, as they called it, andinvited the company to call for any subject that they desired to hearexplained, which being proposed accordingly by some of the audiencebecame immediately the argument of that day's debate. These fiveconferences, or dialogues, he collected afterward into writing in thevery words and manner in which they really passed; and published themunder the title of his Tusculan Disputations, from the name of thevilla in which they were held. 

 * * * * *

BOOK I. 

ON THE CONTEMPT OF DEATH. 

I. At a time when I had entirely, or to a great degree, released myselffrom my labors as an advocate, and from my duties as a senator, I hadrecourse again, Brutus, principally by your advice, to those studieswhich never had been out of my mind, although neglected at times, andwhich after a long interval I resumed; and now, since the principlesand rules of all arts which relate to living well depend on the studyof wisdom, which is called philosophy, I have thought it an employmentworthy of me to illustrate them in the Latin tongue, not becausephilosophy could not be understood in the Greek language, or by theteaching of Greek masters; but it has always been my opinion that ourcountrymen have, in some instances, made wiser discoveries than theGreeks, with reference to those subjects which they have consideredworthy of devoting their attention to, and in others have improved upontheir discoveries, so that in one way or other we surpass them on everypoint; for, with regard to the manners and habits of private life, andfamily and domestic affairs, we certainly manage them with moreelegance, and better than they did; and as to our republic, that ourancestors have, beyond all dispute, formed on better customs and laws. What shall I say of our military affairs; in which our ancestors havebeen most eminent in valor, and still more so in discipline? As tothose things which are attained not by study, but nature, neitherGreece, nor any nation, is comparable to us; for what people hasdisplayed such gravity, such steadiness, such greatness of soul, probity, faith--such distinguished virtue of every kind, as to be equalto our ancestors. In learning, indeed, and all kinds of literature, Greece did excel us, and it was easy to do so where there was nocompetition; for while among the Greeks the poets were the most ancientspecies of learned men--since Homer and Hesiod lived before thefoundation of Rome, and Archilochus[1] was a contemporary ofRomulus--we received poetry much later. For it was about five hundredand ten years after the building of Rome before Livius[2] published aplay in the consulship of C. Claudius, the son of Cæcus, and M. Tuditanus, a year before the birth of Ennius, who was older thanPlautus and Nævius. 

II. It was, therefore, late before poets were either known or receivedamong us; though we find in Cato de Originibus that the guests used, attheir entertainments, to sing the praises of famous men to the sound ofthe flute; but a speech of Cato's shows this kind of poetry to havebeen in no great esteem, as he censures Marcus Nobilior for carryingpoets with him into his province; for that consul, as we know, carriedEnnius with him into Ætolia. Therefore the less esteem poets were in, the less were those studies pursued; though even then those who diddisplay the greatest abilities that way were not very inferior to theGreeks. Do we imagine that if it had been considered commendable inFabius, [3] a man of the highest rank, to paint, we should not have hadmany Polycleti and Parrhasii? Honor nourishes art, and glory is thespur with all to studies; while those studies are always neglected inevery nation which are looked upon disparagingly. The Greeks held skillin vocal and instrumental music as a very important accomplishment, andtherefore it is recorded of Epaminondas, who, in my opinion, was thegreatest man among the Greeks, that he played excellently on the flute;and Themistocles, some years before, was deemed ignorant because at anentertainment he declined the lyre when it was offered to him. For thisreason musicians flourished in Greece; music was a general study; andwhoever was unacquainted with it was not considered as fully instructedin learning. Geometry was in high esteem with them, therefore none weremore honorable than mathematicians. But we have confined this art tobare measuring and calculating. 

III. But, on the contrary, we early entertained an esteem for theorator; though he was not at first a man of learning, but only quick atspeaking: in subsequent times he became learned; for it is reportedthat Galba, Africanus, and Lælius were men of learning; and that evenCato, who preceded them in point of time, was a studious man: thensucceeded the Lepidi, Carbo, and Gracchi, and so many great oratorsafter them, down to our own times, that we were very little, if at all, inferior to the Greeks. Philosophy has been at a low ebb even to thispresent time, and has had no assistance from our own language, and sonow I have undertaken to raise and illustrate it, in order that, as Ihave been of service to my countrymen, when employed on public affairs, I may, if possible, be so likewise in my retirement; and in this I musttake the more pains, because there are already many books in the Latinlanguage which are said to be written inaccurately, having beencomposed by excellent men, only not of sufficient learning; for, indeed, it is possible that a man may think well, and yet not be ableto express his thoughts elegantly; but for any one to publish thoughtswhich he can neither arrange skilfully nor illustrate so as toentertain his reader, is an unpardonable abuse of letters andretirement: they, therefore, read their books to one another, and noone ever takes them up but those who wish to have the same license forcareless writing allowed to themselves. Wherefore, if oratory hasacquired any reputation from my industry, I shall take the more painsto open the fountains of philosophy, from which all my eloquence hastaken its rise. 

IV. But, as Aristotle, [4] a man of the greatest genius, and of the mostvarious knowledge, being excited by the glory of the rhetoricianIsocrates, [5] commenced teaching young men to speak, and joinedphilosophy with eloquence: so it is my design not to lay aside myformer study of oratory, and yet to employ myself at the same time inthis greater and more fruitful art; for I have always thought that tobe able to speak copiously and elegantly on the most importantquestions was the most perfect philosophy. And I have so diligentlyapplied myself to this pursuit, that I have already ventured to have aschool like the Greeks. And lately when you left us, having many of myfriends about me, I attempted at my Tusculan villa what I could do inthat way; for as I formerly used to practise declaiming, which nobodycontinued longer than myself, so this is now to be the declamation ofmy old age. I desired any one to propose a question which he wished tohave discussed, and then I argued that point either sitting or walking;and so I have compiled the scholæ, as the Greeks call them, of fivedays, in as many books. We proceeded in this manner: when he who hadproposed the subject for discussion had said what he thought proper, Ispoke against him; for this is, you know, the old and Socratic methodof arguing against another's opinion; for Socrates thought that thusthe truth would more easily be arrived at. But to give you a betternotion of our disputations, I will not barely send you an account ofthem, but represent them to you as they were carried on; therefore letthe introduction be thus:

V. _A. _ To me death seems to be an evil. 

_M. _ What, to those who are already dead? or to those who must die?

_A. _ To both. 

_M. _ It is a misery, then, because an evil?

_A. _ Certainly. 

_M. _ Then those who have already died, and those who have still got todie, are both miserable?

_A. _ So it appears to me. 

_M. _ Then all are miserable?

_A. _ Every one. 

_M. _ And, indeed, if you wish to be consistent, all that are alreadyborn, or ever shall be, are not only miserable, but always will be so;for should you maintain those only to be miserable, you would notexcept any one living, for all must die; but there should be an end ofmisery in death. But seeing that the dead are miserable, we are born toeternal misery, for they must of consequence be miserable who died ahundred thousand years ago; or rather, all that have ever been born. 

_A. _ So, indeed, I think. 

_M. _ Tell me, I beseech you, are you afraid of the three-headedCerberus in the shades below, and the roaring waves of Cocytus, and thepassage over Acheron, and Tantalus expiring with thirst, while thewater touches his chin; and Sisyphus, Who sweats with arduous toil in vain The steepy summit of the mount to gain?

Perhaps, too, you dread the inexorable judges, Minos and Rhadamanthus;before whom neither L. Crassus nor M. Antonius can defend you; andwhere, since the cause lies before Grecian judges, you will not even beable to employ Demosthenes; but you must plead for yourself before avery great assembly. These things perhaps you dread, and therefore lookon death as an eternal evil. 

VI. _A. _ Do you take me to be so imbecile as to give credit to suchthings?

_M. _ What, do you not believe them?

_A. _ Not in the least. 

_M. _ I am sorry to hear that. 

_A. _ Why, I beg?

_M. _ Because I could have been very eloquent in speaking against them. 

_A. _ And who could not on such a subject? or what trouble is it torefute these monstrous inventions of the poets and painters?[6]

_M. _ And yet you have books of philosophers full of arguments againstthese. 

_A. _ A great waste of time, truly! for who is so weak as to beconcerned about them?

_M. _ If, then, there is no one miserable in the infernal regions, therecan be no one there at all. 

_A. _ I am altogether of that opinion. 

_M. _ Where, then, are those you call miserable? or what place do theyinhabit? For, if they exist at all, they must be somewhere. 

_A. _ I, indeed, am of opinion that they are nowhere. 

_M. _ Then they have no existence at all. 

_A. _ Even so, and yet they are miserable for this very reason, thatthey have no existence. 

_M. _ I had rather now have you afraid of Cerberus than speak thusinaccurately. 

_A. _ In what respect?

_M. _ Because you admit him to exist whose existence you deny with thesame breath. Where now is your sagacity? When you say any one ismiserable, you say that he who does not exist, does exist. 

_A. _ I am not so absurd as to say that. 

_M. _ What is it that you do say, then?

_A. _ I say, for instance, that Marcus Crassus is miserable in beingdeprived of such great riches as his by death; that Cn. Pompey ismiserable in being taken from such glory and honor; and, in short, thatall are miserable who are deprived of this light of life. 

_M. _ You have returned to the same point, for to be miserable impliesan existence; but you just now denied that the dead had any existence:if, then, they have not, they can be nothing; and if so, they are noteven miserable. 

_A. _ Perhaps I do not express what I mean, for I look upon this verycircumstance, not to exist after having existed, to be very miserable. 

_M. _ What, more so than not to have existed at all? Therefore, thosewho are not yet born are miserable because they are not; and weourselves, if we are to be miserable after death, were miserable beforewe were born: but I do not remember that I was miserable before I wasborn; and I should be glad to know, if your memory is better, what yourecollect of yourself before you were born. 

VII. _A. _ You are pleasant: as if I had said that those men aremiserable who are not born, and not that they are so who are dead. 

_M. _ You say, then, that they are so?

_A. _ Yes; I say that because they no longer exist after having existedthey are miserable. 

_M. _ You do not perceive that you are asserting contradictions; forwhat is a greater contradiction, than that that should be not onlymiserable, but should have any existence at all, which does not exist?When you go out at the Capene gate and see the tombs of the Calatini, the Scipios, Servilii, and Metelli, do you look on them as miserable?

_A. _ Because you press me with a word, henceforward I will not say theyare miserable absolutely, but miserable on this account, because theyhave no existence. 

_M. _ You do not say, then, "M. Crassus is miserable, " but only"Miserable M. Crassus. "

_A. _ Exactly so. 

_M. _ As if it did not follow that whatever you speak of in that mannereither is or is not. Are you not acquainted with the first principlesof logic? For this is the first thing they lay down, Whatever isasserted (for that is the best way that occurs to me, at the moment, ofrendering the Greek term [Greek: axiôma]; if I can think of a moreaccurate expression hereafter, I will use it), is asserted as beingeither true or false. When, therefore, you say, "Miserable M. Crassus, "you either say this, "M. Crassus is miserable, " so that some judgmentmay be made whether it is true or false, or you say nothing at all. 

_A. _ Well, then, I now own that the dead are not miserable, since youhave drawn from me a concession that they who do not exist at all cannot be miserable. What then? We that are alive, are we not wretched, seeing we must die? for what is there agreeable in life, when we mustnight and day reflect that, at some time or other, we must die?

VIII. _M. _ Do you not, then, perceive how great is the evil from whichyou have delivered human nature?

_A. _ By what means?

_M. _ Because, if to die were miserable to the dead, to live would be akind of infinite and eternal misery. Now, however, I see a goal, andwhen I have reached it, there is nothing more to be feared; but youseem to me to follow the opinion of Epicharmus, [7] a man of somediscernment, and sharp enough for a Sicilian. 

_A. _ What opinion? for I do not recollect it. 

_M. _ I will tell you if I can in Latin; for you know I am no more usedto bring in Latin sentences in a Greek discourse than Greek in a Latinone. 

_A. _ And that is right enough. But what is that opinion of Epicharmus?

_M. _ I would not die, but yet Am not concerned that I shall be dead. 

_A. _ I now recollect the Greek; but since you have obliged me to grantthat the dead are not miserable, proceed to convince me that it is notmiserable to be under a necessity of dying. 

_M. _ That is easy enough; but I have greater things in hand. 

_A. _ How comes that to be so easy? And what are those things of moreconsequence?

_M. _ Thus: because, if there is no evil after death, then even deathitself can be none; for that which immediately succeeds that is a statewhere you grant that there is no evil: so that even to be obliged todie can be no evil, for that is only the being obliged to arrive at aplace where we allow that no evil is. 

_A. _ I beg you will be more explicit on this point, for these subtlearguments force me sooner to admissions than to conviction. But whatare those more important things about which you say that you areoccupied?

_M. _ To teach you, if I can, that death is not only no evil, but agood. 

_A. _ I do not insist on that, but should be glad to hear you argue it, for even though you should not prove your point, yet you will provethat death is no evil. But I will not interrupt you; I would ratherhear a continued discourse. 

_M. _ What, if I should ask you a question, would you not answer?

_A. _ That would look like pride; but I would rather you should not askbut where necessity requires. 

IX. _M. _ I will comply with your wishes, and explain as well as I canwhat you require; but not with any idea that, like the Pythian Apollo, what I say must needs be certain and indisputable, but as a mere man, endeavoring to arrive at probabilities by conjecture, for I have noground to proceed further on than probability. Those men may call theirstatements indisputable who assert that what they say can be perceivedby the senses, and who proclaim themselves philosophers by profession. 

_A. _ Do as you please: We are ready to hear you. 

_M. _ The first thing, then, is to inquire what death, which seems to beso well understood, really is; for some imagine death to be thedeparture of the soul from the body; others think that there is no suchdeparture, but that soul and body perish together, and that the soul isextinguished with the body. Of those who think that the soul doesdepart from the body, some believe in its immediate dissolution; othersfancy that it continues to exist for a time; and others believe that itlasts forever. There is great dispute even what the soul is, where itis, and whence it is derived: with some, the heart itself (_cor_) seemsto be the soul, hence the expressions, _excordes_, _vecordes_, _concordes;_ and that prudent Nasica, who was twice consul, was calledCorculus, _i. E. _, wise-heart; and Ælius Sextus is described as_Egregie_ cordatus _homo, catus Æliu' Sextus_--that great_wise-hearted_ man, sage Ælius. Empedocles imagines the blood, which issuffused over the heart, to be the soul; to others, a certain part ofthe brain seems to be the throne of the soul; others neither allow theheart itself, nor any portion of the brain, to be the soul, but thinkeither that the heart is the seat and abode of the soul, or else thatthe brain is so. Some would have the soul, or spirit, to be the_anima_, as our schools generally agree; and indeed the name signifiesas much, for we use the expressions _animam agere_, to live; _animamefflare_, to expire; _animosi_, men of spirit; _bene animati_, men ofright feeling; _exanimi sententia_, according to our real opinion; andthe very word _animus_ is derived from _anima_. Again, the soul seemsto Zeno the Stoic to be fire. 

X. But what I have said as to the heart, the blood, the brain, air, orfire being the soul, are common opinions: the others are onlyentertained by individuals; and, indeed, there were many among theancients who held singular opinions on this subject, of whom the latestwas Aristoxenus, a man who was both a musician and a philosopher. Hemaintained a certain straining of the body, like what is called harmonyin music, to be the soul, and believed that, from the figure and natureof the whole body, various motions are excited, as sounds are from aninstrument. He adhered steadily to his system, and yet he saidsomething, the nature of which, whatever it was, had been detailed andexplained a great while before by Plato. Xenocrates denied that thesoul had any figure, or anything like a body; but said it was a number, the power of which, as Pythagoras had fancied, some ages before, wasthe greatest in nature: his master, Plato, imagined a threefold soul, adominant portion of which--that is to say, reason--he had lodged in thehead, as in a tower; and the other two parts--namely, anger anddesire--he made subservient to this one, and allotted them distinctabodes, placing anger in the breast, and desire under the præcordia. But Dicæarchus, in that discourse of some learned disputants, held atCorinth, which he details to us in three books--in the first bookintroduces many speakers; and in the other two he introduces a certainPherecrates, an old man of Phthia, who, as he said, was descended fromDeucalion; asserting, that there is in fact no such thing at all as asoul, but that it is a name without a meaning; and that it is idle touse the expression "animals, " or "animated beings;" that neither mennor beasts have minds or souls, but that all that power by which we actor perceive is equally infused into every living creature, and isinseparable from the body, for if it were not, it would be nothing; noris there anything whatever really existing except body, which is asingle and simple thing, so fashioned as to live and have itssensations in consequence of the regulations of nature. Aristotle, aman superior to all others, both in genius and industry (I alwaysexcept Plato), after having embraced these four known sorts ofprinciples, from which all things deduce their origin, imagines thatthere is a certain fifth nature, from whence comes the soul; for tothink, to foresee, to learn, to teach, to invent anything, and manyother attributes of the same kind, such as to remember, to love, tohate, to desire, to fear, to be pleased or displeased--these, andothers like them, exist, he thinks, in none of those first four kinds:on such account he adds a fifth kind, which has no name, and so by anew name he calls the soul [Greek: endelecheia], as if it were acertain continued and perpetual motion. 

XI. If I have not forgotten anything unintentionally, these are theprincipal opinions concerning the soul. I have omitted Democritus, avery great man indeed, but one who deduces the soul from the fortuitousconcourse of small, light, and round substances; for, if you believemen of his school, there is nothing which a crowd of atoms cannoteffect. Which of these opinions is true, some God must determine. It isan important question for us, Which has the most appearance of truth?Shall we, then, prefer determining between them, or shall we return toour subject?

_A. _ I could wish both, if possible; but it is difficult to mix them:therefore, if without a discussion of them we can get rid of the fearsof death, let us proceed to do so; but if this is not to be donewithout explaining the question about souls, let us have that now, andthe other at another time. 

_M. _ I take that plan to be the best, which I perceive you are inclinedto; for reason will demonstrate that, whichever of the opinions which Ihave stated is true, it must follow, then, that death cannot be anevil; or that it must rather be something desirable; for if either theheart, or the blood, or the brain, is the soul, then certainly thesoul, being corporeal, must perish with the rest of the body; if it isair, it will perhaps be dissolved; if it is fire, it will beextinguished; if it is Aristoxenus's harmony, it will be put out oftune. What shall I say of Dicæarchus, who denies that there is anysoul? In all these opinions, there is nothing to affect any one afterdeath; for all feeling is lost with life, and where there is nosensation, nothing can interfere to affect us. The opinions of othersdo indeed bring us hope; if it is any pleasure to you to think thatsouls, after they leave the body, may go to heaven as to a permanenthome. 

_A. _ I have great pleasure in that thought, and it is what I mostdesire; and even if it should not be so, I should still be very willingto believe it. 

_M. _ What occasion have you, then, for my assistance? Am I superior toPlato in eloquence? Turn over carefully his book that treats of thesoul; you will have there all that you can want. 

_A. _ I have, indeed, done that, and often; but, I know not how it comesto pass, I agree with it while I am reading it; but when I have laiddown the book, and begin to reflect with myself on the immortality ofthe soul, all that agreement vanishes. 

_M. _ How comes that? Do you admit this--that souls either exist afterdeath, or else that they also perish at the moment of death?

_A. _ I agree to that. And if they do exist, I admit that they arehappy; but if they perish, I cannot suppose them to be unhappy, because, in fact, they have no existence at all. You drove me to thatconcession but just now. 

_M. _ How, then, can you, or why do you, assert that you think thatdeath is an evil, when it either makes us happy, in the case of thesoul continuing to exist, or, at all events, not unhappy, in the caseof our becoming destitute of all sensation?

XII. _A. _ Explain, therefore, if it is not troublesome to you, first, if you can, that souls do exist after death; secondly, should you failin that (and it is a very difficult thing to establish), that death isfree from all evil; for I am not without my fears that this itself isan evil: I do not mean the immediate deprivation of sense, but the factthat we shall hereafter suffer deprivation. 

_M. _ I have the best authority in support of the opinion you desire tohave established, which ought, and generally has, great weight in allcases. And, first, I have all antiquity on that side, which the morenear it is to its origin and divine descent, the more clearly, perhaps, on that account, did it discern the truth in these matters. This verydoctrine, then, was adopted by all those ancients whom Ennius calls inthe Sabine tongue Casci; namely, that in death there was a sensation, and that, when men departed this life, they were not so entirelydestroyed as to perish absolutely. And this may appear from many othercircumstances, and especially from the pontifical rites and funeralobsequies, which men of the greatest genius would not have been sosolicitous about, and would not have guarded from any injury by suchsevere laws, but from a firm persuasion that death was not so entire adestruction as wholly to abolish and destroy everything, but rather akind of transmigration, as it were, and change of life, which was, inthe case of illustrious men and women, usually a guide to heaven, whilein that of others it was still confined to the earth, but in such amanner as still to exist. From this, and the sentiments of the Romans, In heaven Romulus with Gods now lives, as Ennius saith, agreeing with the common belief; hence, too, Herculesis considered so great and propitious a God among the Greeks, and fromthem he was introduced among us, and his worship has extended even tothe very ocean itself. This is how it was that Bacchus was deified, theoffspring of Semele; and from the same illustrious fame we receiveCastor and Pollux as Gods, who are reported not only to have helped theRomans to victory in their battles, but to have been the messengers oftheir success. What shall we say of Ino, the daughter of Cadmus? Is shenot called Leucothea by the Greeks, and Matuta by us? Nay, more; is notthe whole of heaven (not to dwell on particulars) almost filled withthe offspring of men?

Should I attempt to search into antiquity, and produce from thence whatthe Greek writers have asserted, it would appear that even those whoare called their principal Gods were taken from among men up intoheaven. 

XIII. Examine the sepulchres of those which are shown in Greece;recollect, for you have been initiated, what lessons are taught in themysteries; then will you perceive how extensive this doctrine is. Butthey who were not acquainted with natural philosophy (for it did notbegin to be in vogue till many years later) had no higher belief thanwhat natural reason could give them; they were not acquainted with theprinciples and causes of things; they were often induced by certainvisions, and those generally in the night, to think that those men whohad departed from this life were still alive. And this may further bebrought as an irrefragable argument for us to believe that there areGods--that there never was any nation so barbarous, nor any people inthe world so savage, as to be without some notion of Gods. Many havewrong notions of the Gods, for that is the nature and ordinaryconsequence of bad customs, yet all allow that there is a certaindivine nature and energy. Nor does this proceed from the conversationof men, or the agreement of philosophers; it is not an opinionestablished by institutions or by laws; but, no doubt, in every casethe consent of all nations is to be looked on as a law of nature. Whois there, then, that does not lament the loss of his friends, principally from imagining them deprived of the conveniences of life?Take away this opinion, and you remove with it all grief; for no one isafflicted merely on account of a loss sustained by himself. Perhaps wemay be sorry, and grieve a little; but that bitter lamentation andthose mournful tears have their origin in our apprehensions that hewhom we loved is deprived of all the advantages of life, and issensible of his loss. And we are led to this opinion by nature, withoutany arguments or any instruction. 

XIV. But the greatest proof of all is, that nature herself gives asilent judgment in favor of the immortality of the soul, inasmuch asall are anxious, and that to a great degree, about the things whichconcern futurity:

 One plants what future ages shall enjoy, as Statius saith in his Synephebi. What is his object in doing so, except that he is interested in posterity? Shall the industrioushusbandman, then, plant trees the fruit of which he shall never see?And shall not the great man found laws, institutions, and a republic?What does the procreation of children imply, and our care to continueour names, and our adoptions, and our scrupulous exactness in drawingup wills, and the inscriptions on monuments, and panegyrics, but thatour thoughts run on futurity? There is no doubt but a judgment may beformed of nature in general, from looking at each nature in its mostperfect specimens; and what is a more perfect specimen of a man thanthose are who look on themselves as born for the assistance, theprotection, and the preservation of others? Hercules has gone toheaven; he never would have gone thither had he not, while among men, made that road for himself. These things are of old date, and have, besides, the sanction of universal religion. 

XV. What will you say? What do you imagine that so many and such greatmen of our republic, who have sacrificed their lives for its good, expected? Do you believe that they thought that their names should notcontinue beyond their lives? None ever encountered death for theircountry but under a firm persuasion of immortality! Themistocles mighthave lived at his ease; so might Epaminondas; and, not to look abroadand among the ancients for instances, so might I myself. But, somehowor other there clings to our minds a certain presage of future ages;and this both exists most firmly, and appears most clearly, in men ofthe loftiest genius and greatest souls. Take away this, and who wouldbe so mad as to spend his life amidst toils and dangers? I speak ofthose in power. What are the poet's views but to be ennobled afterdeath? What else is the object of these lines, Behold old Ennius here, who erst Thy fathers' great exploits rehearsed?

He is challenging the reward of glory from those men whose ancestors hehimself had ennobled by his poetry. And in the same spirit he says, inanother passage, Let none with tears my funeral grace, for I Claim from my works an immortality. 

Why do I mention poets? The very mechanics are desirous of fame afterdeath. Why did Phidias include a likeness of himself in the shield ofMinerva, when he was not allowed to inscribe his name on it? What doour philosophers think on the subject? Do not they put their names tothose very books which they write on the contempt of glory? If, then, universal consent is the voice of nature, and if it is the generalopinion everywhere that those who have quitted this life are stillinterested in something, we also must subscribe to that opinion. And ifwe think that men of the greatest abilities and virtues see mostclearly into the power of nature, because they themselves are her mostperfect work, it is very probable that, as every great man isespecially anxious to benefit posterity, there is something of which hehimself will be sensible after death. 

XVI. But as we are led by nature to think there are Gods, and as wediscover, by reason, of what description they are, so, by the consentof all nations, we are induced to believe that our souls survive; butwhere their habitation is, and of what character they eventually are, must be learned from reason. The want of any certain reason on which toargue has given rise to the idea of the shades below, and to thosefears which you seem, not without reason, to despise; for as our bodiesfall to the ground, and are covered with earth (_humus_), from whencewe derive the expression to be interred (_humari_), that has occasionedmen to imagine that the dead continue, during the remainder of theirexistence, under ground; which opinion has drawn after it many errors, which the poets have increased; for the theatre, being frequented by alarge crowd, among which are women and children, is wont to be greatlyaffected on hearing such pompous verses as these, Lo! here I am, who scarce could gain this place, Through stony mountains and a dreary waste; Through cliffs, whose sharpen'd stones tremendous hung, Where dreadful darkness spread itself around. 

And the error prevailed so much, though indeed at present it seems tome to be removed, that although men knew that the bodies of the deadhad been burned, yet they conceived such things to be done in theinfernal regions as could not be executed or imagined without a body;for they could not conceive how disembodied souls could exist; and, therefore, they looked out for some shape or figure. This was theorigin of all that account of the dead in Homer. This was the idea thatcaused my friend Appius to frame his Necromancy; and this is how theregot about that idea of the lake of Avernus, in my neighborhood, From whence the souls of undistinguish'd shape, Clad in thick shade, rush from the open gate Of Acheron, vain phantoms of the dead. 

And they must needs have these appearances speak, which is not possiblewithout a tongue, and a palate, and jaws, and without the help of lungsand sides, and without some shape or figure; for they could see nothingby their mind alone--they referred all to their eyes. To withdraw themind from sensual objects, and abstract our thoughts from what we areaccustomed to, is an attribute of great genius. I am persuaded, indeed, that there were many such men in former ages; but Pherecydes[8] theSyrian is the first on record who said that the souls of men wereimmortal, and he was a philosopher of great antiquity, in the reign ofmy namesake Tullius. His disciple Pythagoras greatly confirmed thisopinion, who came into Italy in the reign of Tarquin the Proud; and allthat country which is called Great Greece was occupied by his school, and he himself was held in high honor, and had the greatest authority;and the Pythagorean sect was for many ages after in such great credit, that all learning was believed to be confined to that name. 

XVII. But I return to the ancients. They scarcely ever gave any reasonfor their opinion but what could be explained by numbers ordefinitions. It is reported of Plato that he came into Italy to makehimself acquainted with the Pythagoreans; and that when there, amongothers, he made an acquaintance with Archytas[9] and Timæus, [10] andlearned from them all the tenets of the Pythagoreans; and that he notonly was of the same opinion with Pythagoras concerning the immortalityof the soul, but that he also brought reasons in support of it; which, if you have nothing to say against it, I will pass over, and say nomore at present about all this hope of immortality. 

_A. _ What, will you leave me when you have raised my expectations sohigh? I had rather, so help me Hercules! be mistaken with Plato, whom Iknow how much you esteem, and whom I admire myself, from what you sayof him, than be in the right with those others. 

_M. _ I commend you; for, indeed, I could myself willingly be mistakenin his company. Do we, then, doubt, as we do in other cases (though Ithink here is very little room for doubt in this case, for themathematicians prove the facts to us), that the earth is placed in themidst of the world, being, as it were, a sort of point, which they calla [Greek: kentron], surrounded by the whole heavens; and that such isthe nature of the four principles which are the generating causes ofall things, that they have equally divided among them the constituentsof all bodies; moreover, that earthy and humid bodies are carried atequal angles by their own weight and ponderosity into the earth andsea; that the other two parts consist, one of fire, and the other ofair? As the two former are carried by their gravity and weight into themiddle region of the world, so these, on the other hand, ascend byright lines into the celestial regions, either because, owing to theirintrinsic nature, they are always endeavoring to reach the highestplace, or else because lighter bodies are naturally repelled byheavier; and as this is notoriously the case, it must evidently followthat souls, when once they have departed from the body, whether theyare animal (by which term I mean capable of breathing) or of the natureof fire, must mount upward. But if the soul is some number, as somepeople assert, speaking with more subtlety than clearness, or if it isthat fifth nature, for which it would be more correct to say that wehave not given a name to than that we do not correctly understandit--still it is too pure and perfect not to go to a great distance fromthe earth. Something of this sort, then, we must believe the soul tobe, that we may not commit the folly of thinking that so active aprinciple lies immerged in the heart or brain; or, as Empedocles wouldhave it, in the blood. 

XVIII. We will pass over Dicæarchus, [11] with his contemporary andfellow-disciple Aristoxenus, [12] both indeed men of learning. One ofthem seems never even to have been affected with grief, as he could notperceive that he had a soul; while the other is so pleased with hismusical compositions that he endeavors to show an analogy betwixt themand souls. Now, we may understand harmony to arise from the intervalsof sounds, whose various compositions occasion many harmonies; but I donot see how a disposition of members, and the figure of a body withouta soul, can occasion harmony. He had better, learned as he is, leavethese speculations to his master Aristotle, and follow his own trade asa musician. Good advice is given him in that Greek proverb, Apply your talents where you best are skill'd. 

I will have nothing at all to do with that fortuitous concourse ofindividual light and round bodies, notwithstanding Democritus insistson their being warm and having breath, that is to say, life. But thissoul, which is compounded of either of the four principles from whichwe assert that all things are derived, is of inflamed air, as seemsparticularly to have been the opinion of Panætius, and must necessarilymount upward; for air and fire have no tendency downward, but alwaysascend; so should they be dissipated that must be at some distance fromthe earth; but should they remain, and preserve their original state, it is clearer still that they must be carried heavenward, and thisgross and concrete air, which is nearest the earth, must be divided andbroken by them; for the soul is warmer, or rather hotter, than thatair, which I just now called gross and concrete: and this may be madeevident from this consideration--that our bodies, being compounded ofthe earthy class of principles, grow warm by the heat of the soul. 

XIX. We may add, that the soul can the more easily escape from thisair, which I have often named, and break through it, because nothing isswifter than the soul; no swiftness is comparable to the swiftness ofthe soul, which, should it remain uncorrupt and without alteration, must necessarily be carried on with such velocity as to penetrate anddivide all this atmosphere, where clouds, and rain, and winds areformed, which, in consequence of the exhalations from the earth, ismoist and dark: but, when the soul has once got above this region, andfalls in with, and recognizes, a nature like its own, it then restsupon fires composed of a combination of thin air and a moderate solarheat, and does not aim at any higher flight; for then, after it hasattained a lightness and heat resembling its own, it moves no more, butremains steady, being balanced, as it were, between two equal weights. That, then, is its natural seat where it has penetrated to somethinglike itself, and where, wanting nothing further, it may be supportedand maintained by the same aliment which nourishes and maintains thestars. 

Now, as we are usually incited to all sorts of desires by the stimulusof the body, and the more so as we endeavor to rival those who are inpossession of what we long for, we shall certainly be happy when, beingemancipated from that body, we at the same time get rid of thesedesires and this rivalry. And that which we do at present, when, dismissing all other cares, we curiously examine and look intoanything, we shall then do with greater freedom; and we shall employourselves entirely in the contemplation and examination of things;because there is naturally in our minds a certain insatiable desire toknow the truth, and the very region itself where we shall arrive, as itgives us a more intuitive and easy knowledge of celestial things, willraise our desires after knowledge. For it was this beauty of theheavens, as seen even here upon earth, which gave birth to thatnational and hereditary philosophy (as Theophrastus calls it), whichwas thus excited to a desire of knowledge. But those persons will in amost especial degree enjoy this philosophy, who, while they were onlyinhabitants of this world and enveloped in darkness, were stilldesirous of looking into these things with the eye of their mind. 

XX. For if those men now think that they have attained something whohave seen the mouth of the Pontus, and those straits which were passedby the ship called Argo, because, From Argos she did chosen men convey, Bound to fetch back the Golden Fleece, their prey;

or those who have seen the straits of the ocean, Where the swift waves divide the neighboring shores Of Europe, and of Afric;

what kind of sight do you imagine that will be when the whole earth islaid open to our view? and that, too, not only in its position, form, and boundaries, nor those parts of it only which are habitable, butthose also that lie uncultivated, through the extremities of heat andcold to which they are exposed; for not even now is it with our eyesthat we view what we see, for the body itself has no senses; but (asthe naturalists, ay, and even the physicians assure us, who have openedour bodies, and examined them) there are certain perforated channelsfrom the seat of the soul to the eyes, ears, and nose; so thatfrequently, when either prevented by meditation, or the force of somebodily disorder, we neither hear nor see, though our eyes and ears areopen and in good condition; so that we may easily apprehend that it isthe soul itself which sees and hears, and not those parts which are, asit were, but windows to the soul, by means of which, however, she canperceive nothing, unless she is on the spot, and exerts herself. Howshall we account for the fact that by the same power of thinking wecomprehend the most different things--as color, taste, heat, smell, andsound--which the soul could never know by her five messengers, unlessevery thing were referred to her, and she were the sole judge of all?And we shall certainly discover these things in a more clear andperfect degree when the soul is disengaged from the body, and hasarrived at that goal to which nature leads her; for at present, notwithstanding nature has contrived, with the greatest skill, thosechannels which lead from the body to the soul, yet are they, in someway or other, stopped up with earthy and concrete bodies; but when weshall be nothing but soul, then nothing will interfere to prevent ourseeing everything in its real substance and in its true character. 

XXI. It is true, I might expatiate, did the subject require it, on themany and various objects with which the soul will be entertained inthose heavenly regions; when I reflect on which, I am apt to wonder atthe boldness of some philosophers, who are so struck with admiration atthe knowledge of nature as to thank, in an exulting manner, the firstinventor and teacher of natural philosophy, and to reverence him as aGod; for they declare that they have been delivered by his means fromthe greatest tyrants, a perpetual terror, and a fear that molested themby night and day. What is this dread--this fear? What old woman isthere so weak as to fear these things, which you, forsooth, had you notbeen acquainted with natural philosophy, would stand in awe of?

 The hallow'd roofs of Acheron, the dread Of Orcus, the pale regions of the dead. 

And does it become a philosopher to boast that he is not afraid ofthese things, and that he has discovered them to be false? And fromthis we may perceive how acute these men were by nature, who, if theyhad been left without any instruction, would have believed in thesethings. But now they have certainly made a very fine acquisition inlearning that when the day of their death arrives, they will perishentirely. And if that really is the case--for I say nothing eitherway--what is there agreeable or glorious in it? Not that I see anyreason why the opinion of Pythagoras and Plato may not be true; buteven although Plato were to have assigned no reason for his opinion(observe how much I esteem the man), the weight of his authority wouldhave borne me down; but he has brought so many reasons, that he appearsto me to have endeavored to convince others, and certainly to haveconvinced himself. 

XXII. But there are many who labor on the other side of the question, and condemn souls to death, as if they were criminals capitallyconvicted; nor have they any other reason to allege why the immortalityof the soul appears to them to be incredible, except that they are notable to conceive what sort of thing the soul can be when disentangledfrom the body; just as if they could really form a correct idea as towhat sort of thing it is, even when it is in the body; what its form, and size, and abode are; so that were they able to have a full view ofall that is now hidden from them in a living body, they have no ideawhether the soul would be discernible by them, or whether it is of sofine a texture that it would escape their sight. Let those considerthis, who say that they are unable to form any idea of the soul withoutthe body, and then they will see whether they can form any adequateidea of what it is when it is in the body. For my own part, when Ireflect on the nature of the soul, it appears to me a far moreperplexing and obscure question to determine what is its characterwhile it is in the body--a place which, as it were, does not belong toit--than to imagine what it is when it leaves it, and has arrived atthe free æther, which is, if I may so say, its proper, its ownhabitation. For unless we are to say that we cannot apprehend thecharacter or nature of anything which we have never seen, we certainlymay be able to form some notion of God, and of the divine soul whenreleased from the body. Dicæarchus, indeed, and Aristoxenus, because itwas hard to understand the existence and substance and nature of thesoul, asserted that there was no such thing as a soul at all. It is, indeed, the most difficult thing imaginable to discern the soul by thesoul. And this, doubtless, is the meaning of the precept of Apollo, which advises every one to know himself. For I do not apprehend themeaning of the God to have been that we should understand our members, our stature, and form; for we are not merely bodies; nor, when I saythese things to you, am I addressing myself to your body: when, therefore, he says, "Know yourself, " he says this, "Inform yourself ofthe nature of your soul;" for the body is but a kind of vessel, orreceptacle of the soul, and whatever your soul does is your own act. Toknow the soul, then, unless it had been divine, would not have been aprecept of such excellent wisdom as to be attributed to a God; but eventhough the soul should not know of what nature itself is, will you saythat it does not even perceive that it exists at all, or that it hasmotion? On which is founded that reason of Plato's, which is explainedby Socrates in the Phædrus, and inserted by me, in my sixth book of theRepublic. 

XXIII. "That which is always moved is eternal; but that which givesmotion to something else, and is moved itself by some external cause, when that motion ceases, must necessarily cease to exist. That, therefore, alone, which is self-moved, because it is never forsaken byitself, can never cease to be moved. Besides, it is the beginning andprinciple of motion to everything else; but whatever is a principle hasno beginning, for all things arise from that principle, and it cannotitself owe its rise to anything else; for then it would not be aprinciple did it proceed from anything else. But if it has nobeginning, it never will have any end; for a principle which is onceextinguished cannot itself be restored by anything else, nor can itproduce anything else from itself; inasmuch as all things mustnecessarily arise from some first cause. And thus it comes about thatthe first principle of motion must arise from that thing which isitself moved by itself; and that can neither have a beginning nor anend of its existence, for otherwise the whole heaven and earth would beoverset, and all nature would stand still, and not be able to acquireany force by the impulse of which it might be first set in motion. Seeing, then, that it is clear that whatever moves itself is eternal, can there be any doubt that the soul is so? For everything is inanimatewhich is moved by an external force; but everything which is animate ismoved by an interior force, which also belongs to itself. For this isthe peculiar nature and power of the soul; and if the soul be the onlything in the whole world which has the power of self-motion, thencertainly it never had a beginning, and therefore it is eternal. "

Now, should all the lower order of philosophers (for so I think theymay be called who dissent from Plato and Socrates and that school)unite their force, they never would be able to explain anything soelegantly as this, nor even to understand how ingeniously thisconclusion is drawn. The soul, then, perceives itself to have motion, and at the same time that it gets that perception, it is sensible thatit derives that motion from its own power, and not from the agency ofanother; and it is impossible that it should ever forsake itself. Andthese premises compel you to allow its eternity, unless you havesomething to say against them. 

_A. _ I should myself be very well pleased not to have even a thoughtarise in my mind against them, so much am I inclined to that opinion. 

XXIV. _M. _ Well, then, I appeal to you, if the arguments which provethat there is something divine in the souls of men are not equallystrong? But if I could account for the origin of these divineproperties, then I might also be able to explain how they might ceaseto exist; for I think I can account for the manner in which the blood, and bile, and phlegm, and bones, and nerves, and veins, and all thelimbs, and the shape of the whole body, were put together and made; ay, and even as to the soul itself, were there nothing more in it than aprinciple of life, then the life of a man might be put upon the samefooting as that of a vine or any other tree, and accounted for ascaused by nature; for these things, as we say, live. Besides, ifdesires and aversions were all that belonged to the soul, it would havethem only in common with the beasts; but it has, in the first place, memory, and that, too, so infinite as to recollect an absolutecountless number of circumstances, which Plato will have to be arecollection of a former life; for in that book which is inscribedMenon, Socrates asks a child some questions in geometry, with referenceto measuring a square; his answers are such as a child would make, andyet the questions are so easy, that while answering them, one by one, he comes to the same point as if he had learned geometry. From whenceSocrates would infer that learning is nothing more than recollection;and this topic he explains more accurately in the discourse which heheld the very day he died; for he there asserts that, any one, whoseeming to be entirely illiterate, is yet able to answer a questionwell that is proposed to him, does in so doing manifestly show that heis not learning it then, but recollecting it by his memory. Nor is itto be accounted for in any other way, how children come to have notionsof so many and such important things as are implanted, and, as it were, sealed up, in their minds (which the Greeks call [Greek: ennoiai]), unless the soul, before it entered the body, had been well stored withknowledge. And as it had no existence at all (for this is theinvariable doctrine of Plato, who will not admit anything to have areal existence which has a beginning and an end, and who thinks thatthat alone does really exist which is of such a character as what hecalls [Greek: eidea], and we species), therefore, being shut up in thebody, it could not while in the body discover what it knows; but itknew it before, and brought the knowledge with it, so that we are nolonger surprised at its extensive and multifarious knowledge. Nor doesthe soul clearly discover its ideas at its first resort to this abodeto which it is so unaccustomed, and which is in so disturbed a state;but after having refreshed and recollected itself, it then by itsmemory recovers them; and, therefore, to learn implies nothing morethan to recollect. But I am in a particular manner surprised at memory. For what is that faculty by which we remember? what is its force? whatits nature? I am not inquiring how great a memory Simonides[13] may besaid to have had, or Theodectes, [14] or that Cineas[15] who was sent toRome as ambassador from Pyrrhus; or, in more modern times, Charmadas;[16] or, very lately, Metrodorus[17] the Scepsian, or our owncontemporary Hortensius[18]: I am speaking of ordinary memory, andespecially of those men who are employed in any important study or art, the great capacity of whose minds it is hard to estimate, such numbersof things do they remember. 

XXV. Should you ask what this leads to, I think we may understand whatthat power is, and whence we have it. It certainly proceeds neitherfrom the heart, nor from the blood, nor from the brain, nor from atoms;whether it be air or fire, I know not, nor am I, as those men are, ashamed, in cases where I am ignorant, to own that I am so. If in anyother obscure matter I were able to assert anything positively, then Iwould swear that the soul, be it air or fire, is divine. Just think, Ibeseech you: can you imagine this wonderful power of memory to be sownin or to be a part of the composition of the earth, or of this dark andgloomy atmosphere? Though you cannot apprehend what it is, yet you seewhat kind of thing it is, or if you do not quite see that, yet youcertainly see how great it is. What, then? Shall we imagine that thereis a kind of measure in the soul, into which, as into a vessel, allthat we remember is poured? That indeed is absurd; for how shall weform any idea of the bottom, or of the shape or fashion of such a soulas that? And, again, how are we to conceive how much it is able tocontain? Shall we imagine the soul to receive impressions like wax, andmemory to be marks of the impressions made on the soul? What are thecharacters of the words, what of the facts themselves? and what, again, is that prodigious greatness which can give rise to impressions of somany things? What, lastly, is that power which investigates secretthings, and is called invention and contrivance? Does that man seem tobe compounded of this earthly, mortal, and perishing nature who firstinvented names for everything; which, if you will believe Pythagoras, is the highest pitch of wisdom? or he who collected the dispersedinhabitants of the world, and united them in the bonds of social life?or he who confined the sounds of the voice, which used to seeminfinite, to the marks of a few letters? or he who first observed thecourses of the planets, their progressive motions, their laws? Thesewere all great men. But they were greater still who invented food, andraiment, and houses; who introduced civilization among us, and armed usagainst the wild beasts; by whom we were made sociable and polished, and so proceeded from the necessaries of life to its embellishments. For we have provided great entertainments for the ears by inventing andmodulating the variety and nature of sounds; we have learned to surveythe stars, not only those that are fixed, but also those which areimproperly called wandering; and the man who has acquainted himselfwith all their revolutions and motions is fairly considered to have asoul resembling the soul of that Being who has created those stars inthe heavens: for when Archimedes described in a sphere the motions ofthe moon, sun, and five planets, he did the very same thing as Plato'sGod, in his Timæus, who made the world, causing one revolution toadjust motions differing as much as possible in their slowness andvelocity. Now, allowing that what we see in the world could not beeffected without a God, Archimedes could not have imitated the samemotions in his sphere without a divine soul. 

XXVI. To me, indeed, it appears that even those studies which are morecommon and in greater esteem are not without some divine energy: sothat I do not consider that a poet can produce a serious and sublimepoem without some divine impulse working on his mind; nor do I thinkthat eloquence, abounding with sonorous words and fruitful sentences, can flow thus without something beyond mere human power. But as tophilosophy, that is the parent of all the arts: what can we call thatbut, as Plato says, a gift, or, as I express it, an invention, of theGods? This it was which first taught us the worship of the Gods; andthen led us on to justice, which arises from the human race beingformed into society; and after that it imbued us with modesty andelevation of soul. This it was which dispersed darkness from our souls, as it is dispelled from our eyes, enabling us to see all things thatare above or below, the beginning, end, and middle of everything. I amconvinced entirely that that which could effect so many and such greatthings must be a divine power. For what is memory of words andcircumstances? What, too, is invention? Surely they are things thanwhich nothing greater can be conceived in a God! For I do not imaginethe Gods to be delighted with nectar and ambrosia, or with Juventaspresenting them with a cup; nor do I put any faith in Homer, who saysthat Ganymede was carried away by the Gods on account of his beauty, inorder to give Jupiter his wine. Too weak reasons for doing Laomedonsuch injury! These were mere inventions of Homer, who gave his Gods theimperfections of men. I would rather that he had given men theperfections of the Gods! those perfections, I mean, of uninterruptedhealth, wisdom, invention, memory. Therefore the soul (which is, as Isay, divine) is, as Euripides more boldly expresses it, a God. Andthus, if the divinity be air or fire, the soul of man is the same; foras that celestial nature has nothing earthly or humid about it, in likemanner the soul of man is also free from both these qualities: but ifit is of that fifth kind of nature, first introduced by Aristotle, thenboth Gods and souls are of the same. 

XXVII. As this is my opinion, I have explained it in these very words, in my book on Consolation. [19] The origin of the soul of man is not tobe found upon earth, for there is nothing in the soul of a mixed orconcrete nature, or that has any appearance of being formed or made outof the earth; nothing even humid, or airy, or fiery. For what is therein natures of that kind which has the power of memory, understanding, or thought? which can recollect the past, foresee the future, andcomprehend the present? for these capabilities are confined to divinebeings; nor can we discover any source from which men could derivethem, but from God. There is therefore a peculiar nature and power inthe soul, distinct from those natures which are more known and familiarto us. Whatever, then, that is which thinks, and which hasunderstanding, and volition, and a principle of life, is heavenly anddivine, and on that account must necessarily be eternal; nor can Godhimself, who is known to us, be conceived to be anything else except asoul free and unembarrassed, distinct from all mortal concretion, acquainted with everything, and giving motion to everything, and itselfendued with perpetual motion. 

XXVIII. Of this kind and nature is the intellect of man. Where, then, is this intellect seated, and of what character is it? where is yourown, and what is its character? Are you able to tell? If I have notfaculties for knowing all that I could desire to know, will you noteven allow me to make use of those which I have? The soul has notsufficient capacity to comprehend itself; yet, the soul, like the eye, though it has no distinct view of itself, sees other things: it doesnot see (which is of least consequence) its own shape; perhaps not, though it possibly may; but we will pass that by: but it certainly seesthat it has vigor, sagacity, memory, motion, and velocity; these areall great, divine, eternal properties. What its appearance is, or whereit dwells, it is not necessary even to inquire. As when we behold, first of all, the beauty and brilliant appearance of the heavens;secondly, the vast velocity of its revolutions, beyond power of ourimagination to conceive; then the vicissitudes of nights and days, thefourfold division of the seasons, so well adapted to the ripening ofthe fruits of the earth, and the temperature of our bodies: and afterthat we look up to the sun, the moderator and governor of all thesethings; and view the moon, by the increase and decrease of its light, marking, as it were, and appointing our holy days; and see the fiveplanets, borne on in the same circle, divided into twelve parts, preserving the same course with the greatest regularity, but withutterly dissimilar motions among themselves; and the nightly appearanceof the heaven, adorned on all sides with stars; then, the globe of theearth, raised above the sea, and placed in the centre of the universe, inhabited and cultivated in its two opposite extremities, one of which, the place of our habitation, is situated towards the north pole, underthe seven stars:

 Where the cold northern blasts, with horrid sound, Harden to ice the snowy cover'd ground;

the other, towards the south pole, is unknown to us, but is called bythe Greeks [Greek: antichthona]: the other parts are uncultivated, because they are either frozen with cold, or burned up with heat; butwhere we dwell, it never fails, in its season, To yield a placid sky, to bid the trees Assume the lively verdure of their leaves: The vine to bud, and, joyful, in its shoots, Foretell the approaching vintage of its fruits: The ripen'd corn to sing, while all around Full riv'lets glide; and flowers deck the ground:

then the multitude of cattle, fit part for food, part for tilling theground, others for carrying us, or for clothing us; and man himself, made, as it were, on purpose to contemplate the heavens and the Gods, and to pay adoration to them: lastly, the whole earth, and wideextending seas, given to man's use. When we view these and numberlessother things, can we doubt that they have some being who presides overthem, or has made them (if, indeed, they have been made, as is theopinion of Plato, or if, as Aristotle thinks, they are eternal), or whoat all events is the regulator of so immense a fabric and so great ablessing to men? Thus, though you see not the soul of man, as you seenot the Deity, yet, as by the contemplation of his works you are led toacknowledge a God, so you must own the divine power of the soul, fromits remembering things, from its invention, from the quickness of itsmotion, and from all the beauty of virtue. Where, then, is it seated, you will say?

XXIX. In my opinion, it is seated in the head, and I can bring youreasons for my adopting that opinion. At present, let the soul residewhere it will, you certainly have one in you. Should you ask what itsnature is? It has one peculiarly its own; but admitting it to consistof fire, or air, it does not affect the present question. Only observethis, that as you are convinced there is a God, though you are ignorantwhere he resides, and what shape he is of; in like manner you ought tofeel assured that you have a soul, though you cannot satisfy yourselfof the place of its residence, nor its form. In our knowledge of thesoul, unless we are grossly ignorant of natural philosophy, we cannotbut be satisfied that it has nothing but what is simple, unmixed, uncompounded, and single; and if this is admitted, then it cannot beseparated, nor divided, nor dispersed, nor parted, and therefore itcannot perish; for to perish implies a parting-asunder, a division, adisunion, of those parts which, while it subsisted, were held togetherby some band. And it was because he was influenced by these and similarreasons that Socrates neither looked out for anybody to plead for himwhen he was accused, nor begged any favor from his judges, butmaintained a manly freedom, which was the effect not of pride, but ofthe true greatness of his soul; and on the last day of his life he helda long discourse on this subject; and a few days before, when he mighthave been easily freed from his confinement, he refused to be so; andwhen he had almost actually hold of that deadly cup, he spoke with theair of a man not forced to die, but ascending into heaven. 

XXX. For so indeed he thought himself, and thus he spoke: "That therewere two ways, and that the souls of men, at their departure from thebody, took different roads; for those which were polluted with vicesthat are common to men, and which had given themselves up entirely tounclean desires, and had become so blinded by them as to havehabituated themselves to all manner of debauchery and profligacy, or tohave laid detestable schemes for the ruin of their country, took a roadwide of that which led to the assembly of the Gods; but they who hadpreserved themselves upright and chaste, and free from the slightestcontagion of the body, and had always kept themselves as far aspossible at a distance from it, and while on earth had proposed tothemselves as a model the life of the Gods, found the return to thosebeings from whom they had come an easy one. " Therefore, he argues, thatall good and wise men should take example from the swans, who areconsidered sacred to Apollo, not without reason, but particularlybecause they seem to have received the gift of divination from him, bywhich, foreseeing how happy it is to die, they leave this world withsinging and joy. Nor can any one doubt of this, unless it happens to uswho think with care and anxiety about the soul (as is often the casewith those who look earnestly at the setting sun), to lose the sight ofit entirely; and so the mind's eye, viewing itself, sometimes growsdull, and for that reason we become remiss in our contemplation. Thusour reasoning is borne about, harassed with doubts and anxieties, notknowing how to proceed, but measuring back again those dangerous tractswhich it has passed, like a boat tossed about on the boundless ocean. But these reflections are of long standing, and borrowed from theGreeks. But Cato left this world in such a manner as if he weredelighted that he had found an opportunity of dying; for that God whopresides in us forbids our departure hence without his leave. But whenGod himself has given us a just cause, as formerly he did to Socrates, and lately to Cato, and often to many others--in such a case, certainlyevery man of sense would gladly exchange this darkness for that light:not that he would forcibly break from the chains that held him, forthat would be against the law; but, like a man released from prison bya magistrate or some lawful authority, so he too would walk away, beingreleased and discharged by God. For the whole life of a philosopher is, as the same philosopher says, a meditation on death. 

XXXI. For what else is it that we do, when we call off our minds frompleasure, that is to say, from our attention to the body, from themanaging our domestic estate, which is a sort of handmaid and servantof the body, or from duties of a public nature, or from all otherserious business whatever? What else is it, I say, that we do, butinvite the soul to reflect on itself? oblige it to converse withitself, and, as far as possible, break off its acquaintance with thebody? Now, to separate the soul from the body, is to learn to die, andnothing else whatever. Wherefore take my advice; and let us meditate onthis, and separate ourselves as far as possible from the body, that isto say, let us accustom ourselves to die. This will be enjoying a lifelike that of heaven even while we remain on earth; and when we arecarried thither and released from these bonds, our souls will maketheir progress with more rapidity; for the spirit which has always beenfettered by the bonds of the body, even when it is disengaged, advancesmore slowly, just as those do who have worn actual fetters for manyyears: but when we have arrived at this emancipation from the bonds ofthe body, then indeed we shall begin to live, for this present life isreally death, which I could say a good deal in lamentation for if Ichose. 

_A. _ You have lamented it sufficiently in your book on Consolation; andwhen I read that, there is nothing which I desire more than to leavethese things; but that desire is increased a great deal by what I havejust heard. 

_M. _ The time will come, and that soon, and with equal certainty, whether you hang back or press forward; for time flies. But death is sofar from being an evil, as it lately appeared to you, that I aminclined to suspect, not that there is no other thing which is an evilto man, but rather that there is nothing else which is a real good tohim; if, at least, it is true that we become thereby either Godsourselves, or companions of the Gods. However, this is not of so muchconsequence, as there are some of us here who will not allow this. ButI will not leave off discussing this point till I have convinced youthat death can, upon no consideration whatever, be an evil. 

_A. _ How can it, after what I now know?

_M. _ Do you ask how it can? There are crowds of arguers who contradictthis; and those not only Epicureans, whom I regard very little, but, somehow or other, almost every man of letters; and, above all, myfavorite Dicæarchus is very strenuous in opposing the immortality ofthe soul: for he has written three books, which are entitled Lesbiacs, because the discourse was held at Mitylene, in which he seeks to provethat souls are mortal. The Stoics, on the other hand, allow us as longa time for enjoyment as the life of a raven; they allow the soul toexist a great while, but are against its eternity. 

XXXII. Are you willing to hear then why, even allowing this, deathcannot be an evil. 

_A. _ As you please; but no one shall drive me from my belief inmortality. 

_M. _ I commend you, indeed, for that; though we should not be tooconfident in our belief of anything; for we are frequently disturbed bysome subtle conclusion. We give way and change our opinions even inthings that are more evident than this; for in this there certainly issome obscurity. Therefore, should anything of this kind happen, it iswell to be on our guard. 

_A. _ You are right in that; but I will provide against any accident. 

_M. _ Have you any objection to our dismissing our friends theStoics--those, I mean, who allow that the souls exist after they haveleft the body, but yet deny that they exist forever?

_A. _ We certainly may dismiss the consideration of those men who admitthat which is the most difficult point in the whole question, namely, that a soul can exist independently of the body, and yet refuse togrant that which is not only very easy to believe, but which is eventhe natural consequence of the concession which they have made--that ifthey can exist for a length of time; they most likely do so forever. 

_M. _ You take it right; that is the very thing. Shall we give, therefore, any credit to Pauæstius, when he dissents from his master, Plato? whom he everywhere calls divine, the wisest, the holiest of men, the Homer of philosophers, and whom he opposes in nothing except thissingle opinion of the soul's immortality: for he maintains what nobodydenies, that everything which has been generated will perish, and thateven souls are generated, which he thinks appears from theirresemblance to those of the men who begot them; for that likeness is asapparent in the turn of their minds as in their bodies. But he bringsanother reason--that there is nothing which is sensible of pain whichis not also liable to disease; but whatever is liable to disease mustbe liable to death. The soul is sensible of pain, therefore it isliable to perish. 

XXXIII. These arguments may be refuted; for they proceed from his notknowing that, while discussing the subject of the immortality of thesoul, he is speaking of the intellect, which is free from all turbidmotion; but not of those parts of the mind in which those disorders, anger and lust, have their seat, and which he whom he is opposing, whenhe argues thus, imagines to be distinct and separate from the mind. Nowthis resemblance is more remarkable in beasts, whose souls are void ofreason. But the likeness in men consists more in the configuration ofthe bodies: and it is of no little consequence in what bodies the soulis lodged; for there are many things which depend on the body that givean edge to the soul, many which blunt it. Aristotle, indeed, says thatall men of great genius are melancholy; so that I should not have beendispleased to have been somewhat duller than I am. He instances many, and, as if it were matter of fact, brings his reasons for it. But ifthe power of those things that proceed from the body be so great as toinfluence the mind (for they are the things, whatever they are, thatoccasion this likeness), still that does not necessarily prove why asimilitude of souls should be generated. I say nothing about cases ofunlikeness. I wish Panætius could be here: he lived with Africanus. Iwould inquire of him which of his family the nephew of Africanus'sbrother was like? Possibly he may in person have resembled his father;but in his manners he was so like every profligate, abandoned man, thatit was impossible to be more so. Whom did the grandson of P. Crassus, that wise and eloquent and most distinguished man, resemble? Or therelations and sons of many other excellent men, whose names there is nooccasion to mention? But what are we doing? Have we forgotten that ourpurpose was, when we had sufficiently spoken on the subject of theimmortality of the soul, to prove that, even if the soul did perish, there would be, even then, no evil in death?

_A. _ I remembered it very well; but I had no dislike to your digressinga little from your original design, while you were talking of thesoul's immortality. 

_M. _ I perceive you have sublime thoughts, and are eager to mount up toheaven. 

XXXIV. I am not without hopes myself that such may be our fate. Butadmit what they assert--that the soul does not continue to exist afterdeath. 

_A. _ Should it be so, I see that we are then deprived of the hopes of ahappier life. 

_M. _ But what is there of evil in that opinion? For let the soul perishas the body: is there any pain, or indeed any feeling at all, in thebody after death? No one, indeed asserts that; though Epicurus chargesDemocritus with saying so; but the disciples of Democritus deny it. Nosense, therefore, remains in the soul; for the soul is nowhere. Where, then, is the evil? for there is nothing but these two things. Is itbecause the mere separation of the soul and body cannot be effectedwithout pain? But even should that be granted, how small a pain mustthat be! Yet I think that it is false, and that it is very oftenunaccompanied by any sensation at all, and sometimes even attended withpleasure; but certainly the whole must be very trifling, whatever itis, for it is instantaneous. What makes us uneasy, or rather gives uspain, is the leaving all the good things of life. But just consider ifI might not more properly say, leaving the evils of life; only there isno reason for my now occupying myself in bewailing the life of man, andyet I might, with very good reason. But what occasion is there, whenwhat I am laboring to prove is that no one is miserable after death, tomake life more miserable by lamenting over it? I have done that in thebook which I wrote, in order to comfort myself as well as I could. If, then, our inquiry is after truth, death withdraws us from evil, notfrom good. This subject is indeed so copiously handled by Hegesias, theCyrenaic philosopher, that he is said to have been forbidden by Ptolemyfrom delivering his lectures in the schools, because some who heard himmade away with themselves. There is, too, an epigram of Callimachus[20]on Cleombrotus of Ambracia, who, without any misfortune having befallenhim, as he says, threw himself from a wall into the sea, after he hadread a book of Plato's. The book I mentioned of that Hegesias is called[Greek: Apokarterterôn], or "A Man who starves himself, " in which a manis represented as killing himself by starvation, till he is preventedby his friends, in reply to whom he reckons up all the miseries ofhuman life. I might do the same, though not so fully as he, who thinksit not worth any man's while to live. I pass over others. Was it evenworth my while to live, for, had I died before I was deprived of thecomforts of my own family, and of the honors which I received for mypublic services, would not death have taken me from the evils of liferather than from its blessings?

XXXV. Mention, therefore, some one, who never knew distress; who neverreceived any blow from fortune. The great Metellus had fourdistinguished sons; but Priam had fifty, seventeen of whom were born tohim by his lawful wife. Fortune had the same power over both, thoughshe exercised it but on one; for Metellus was laid on his funeral pileby a great company of sons and daughters, grandsons, andgranddaughters; but Priam fell by the hand of an enemy, after havingfled to the altar, and having seen himself deprived of all his numerousprogeny. Had he died before the death of his sons and the ruin of hiskingdom, With all his mighty wealth elate, Under rich canopies of state;

would he then have been taken from good or from evil? It would indeed, at that time, have appeared that he was being taken away from good; yetsurely it would have turned out advantageous for him; nor should wehave had these mournful verses, Lo! these all perish'd in one flaming pile; The foe old Priam did of life beguile, And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defile. 

As if anything better could have happened to him at that time than tolose his life in that manner; but yet, if it had befallen him sooner, it would have prevented all those consequences; but even as it was, itreleased him from any further sense of them. The case of our friendPompey[21] was something better: once, when he had been very ill atNaples, the Neapolitans, on his recovery, put crowns on their heads, asdid those of Puteoli; the people flocked from the country tocongratulate him--it is a Grecian custom, and a foolish one; still itis a sign of good fortune. But the question is, had he died, would hehave been taken from good, or from evil? Certainly from evil. He wouldnot have been engaged in a war with his father-in-law;[22] he would nothave taken up arms before he was prepared; he would not have left hisown house, nor fled from Italy; he would not, after the loss of hisarmy, have fallen unarmed into the hands of slaves, and been put todeath by them; his children would not have been destroyed; nor wouldhis whole fortune have come into the possession of the conquerors. Didnot he, then, who, if he had died at that time, would have died in allhis glory, owe all the great and terrible misfortunes into which hesubsequently fell to the prolongation of his life at that time?

XXXVI. These calamities are avoided by death, for even though theyshould never happen, there is a possibility that they may; but it neveroccurs to a man that such a disaster may befall him himself. Every onehopes to be as happy as Metellus: as if the number of the happyexceeded that of the miserable; or as if there were any certainty inhuman affairs; or, again, as if there were more rational foundation forhope than fear. But should we grant them even this, that men are bydeath deprived of good things; would it follow that the dead aretherefore in need of the good things of life, and are miserable on thataccount? Certainly they must necessarily say so. Can he who does notexist be in need of anything? To be in need of has a melancholy sound, because it in effect amounts to this--he had, but he has not; heregrets, he looks back upon, he wants. Such are, I suppose, thedistresses of one who is in need of. Is he deprived of eyes? to beblind is misery. Is he destitute of children? not to have them ismisery. These considerations apply to the living, but the dead areneither in need of the blessings of life, nor of life itself. But whenI am speaking of the dead, I am speaking of those who have noexistence. But would any one say of us, who do exist, that we wanthorns or wings? Certainly not. Should it be asked, why not? the answerwould be, that not to have what neither custom nor nature has fittedyou for would not imply a want of them, even though you were sensiblethat you had them not. This argument should be pressed over and overagain, after that point has once been established, which, if souls aremortal, there can be no dispute about--I mean, that the destruction ofthem by death is so entire as to remove even the least suspicion of anysense remaining. When, therefore, this point is once well grounded andestablished, we must correctly define what the term to want means; thatthere may be no mistake in the word. To want, then, signifies this: tobe without that which you would be glad to have; for inclination for athing is implied in the word want, excepting when we use the word in anentirely different sense, as we do when we say that a fever is wantingto any one. For it admits of a different interpretation, when you arewithout a certain thing, and are sensible that you are without it, butyet can easily dispense with having it. "To want, " then, is anexpression which you cannot apply to the dead; nor is the mere fact ofwanting something necessarily lamentable. The proper expression oughtto be, "that they want a good, " and that is an evil. 

But a living man does not want a good, unless he is distressed withoutit; and yet, we can easily understand how any man alive can be withouta kingdom. But this cannot be predicated of you with any accuracy: itmight have been asserted of Tarquin, when he was driven from hiskingdom. But when such an expression is used respecting the dead, it isabsolutely unintelligible. For to want implies to be sensible; but thedead are insensible: therefore, the dead can be in no want. 

XXXVII. But what occasion is there to philosophize here in a matterwith which we see that philosophy is but little concerned? How oftenhave not only our generals but whole armies, rushed on certain death!But if it had been a thing to be feared, L. Brutus would never havefallen in fight, to prevent the return of that tyrant whom he hadexpelled; nor would Decius the father have been slain in fighting withthe Latins; nor would his son, when engaged with the Etruscans, nor hisgrandson with Pyrrhus have exposed themselves to the enemy's darts. Spain would never have seen, in one campaign, the Scipios fall fightingfor their country; nor would the plains of Cannæ have witnessed thedeath of Paulus and Geminus, or Venusia that of Marcellus; nor wouldthe Latins have beheld the death of Albinus, nor the Leucanians that ofGracchus. But are any of these miserable now? Nay, they were not soeven at the first moment after they had breathed their last; nor canany one be miserable after he has lost all sensation. Oh, but the merecircumstance of being without sensation is miserable. It might be so ifbeing without sensation were the same thing as wanting it; but as it isevident there can be nothing of any kind in that which has noexistence, what can there be afflicting to that which can neither feelwant nor be sensible of anything? We might be said to have repeatedthis over too often, only that here lies all that the soul shudders atfrom the fear of death. For whoever can clearly apprehend that which isas manifest as the light--that when both soul and body are consumed, and there is a total destruction, then that which was an animal becomesnothing--will clearly see that there is no difference between aHippocentaur, which never had existence, and King Agamemnon, and thatM. Camillus is no more concerned about this present civil war than Iwas at the sacking of Rome, when he was living. 

XXXVIII. Why, then, should Camillus be affected with the thoughts ofthese things happening three hundred and fifty years after his time?And why should I be uneasy it I were to expect that some nation mightpossess itself of this city ten thousand years hence? Because so greatis our regard for our country, as not to be measured by our ownfeeling, but by its own actual safety. 

Death, then, which threatens us daily from a thousand accidents, andwhich, by reason of the shortness of life, can never be far off, doesnot deter a wise man from making such provision for his country and hisfamily as he hopes may last forever; and from regarding posterity, ofwhich he can never have any real perception, as belonging to himself. Wherefore a man may act for eternity, even though he be persuaded thathis soul is mortal; not, indeed, from a desire of glory, which he willbe insensible of, but from a principle of virtue, which glory willinevitably attend, though that is not his object. The process, indeed, of nature is this: that just in the same manner as our birth was thebeginning of things with us, so death will be the end; and as we werenoways concerned with anything before we were born, so neither shall webe after we are dead. And in this state of things where can the evilbe, since death has no connection with either the living or the dead?The one have no existence at all, the other are not yet affected by it. They who make the least of death consider it as having a greatresemblance to sleep; as if any one would choose to live ninety yearson condition that, at the expiration of sixty, he should sleep out theremainder. The very swine would not accept of life on those terms, muchless I. Endymion, indeed, if you listen to fables, slept once on a timeon Latmus, a mountain of Caria, and for such a length of time that Iimagine he is not as yet awake. Do you think that he is concerned atthe Moon's being in difficulties, though it was by her that he wasthrown into that sleep, in order that she might kiss him whilesleeping. For what should he be concerned for who has not even anysensation? You look on sleep as an image of death, and you take that onyou daily; and have you, then, any doubt that there is no sensation indeath, when you see there is none in sleep, which is its nearresemblance?

XXXIX. Away, then, with those follies, which are little better than theold women's dreams, such as that it is miserable to die before ourtime. What time do you mean? That of nature? But she has only lent youlife, as she might lend you money, without fixing any certain time forits repayment. Have you any grounds of complaint, then, that sherecalls it at her pleasure? for you received it on these terms. Theythat complain thus allow that if a young child dies, the survivorsought to bear his loss with equanimity; that if an infant in the cradledies, they ought not even to utter a complaint; and yet nature has beenmore severe with them in demanding back what she gave. They answer bysaying that such have not tasted the sweets of life; while the otherhad begun to conceive hopes of great happiness, and, indeed, had begunto realize them. Men judge better in other things, and allow a part tobe preferable to none. Why do they not admit the same estimate in life?Though Callimachus does not speak amiss in saying that more tears hadflowed from Priam than his son; yet they are thought happier who dieafter they have reached old age. It would be hard to say why; for I donot apprehend that any one, if a longer life were granted to him, wouldfind it happier. There is nothing more agreeable to a man thanprudence, which old age most certainly bestows on a man, though it maystrip him of everything else. But what age is long, or what is there atall long to a man? Does not

 Old age, though unregarded, still attend On childhood's pastimes, as the cares of men?

But because there is nothing beyond old age, we call that long: allthese things are said to be long or short, according to the proportionof time they were given us for. Artistotle saith there is a kind ofinsect near the river Hypanis, which runs from a certain part of Europeinto the Pontus, whose life consists but of one day; those that die atthe eighth hour die in full age; those who die when the sun sets arevery old, especially when the days are at the longest. Compare ourlongest life with eternity, and we shall be found almost as short-livedas those little animals. 

XL. Let us, then, despise all these follies--for what softer name can Igive to such levities?--and let us lay the foundation of our happinessin the strength and greatness of our minds, in a contempt and disregardof all earthly things, and in the practice of every virtue. For atpresent we are enervated by the softness of our imaginations, so that, should we leave this world before the promises of our fortune-tellersare made good to us, we should think ourselves deprived of some greatadvantages, and seem disappointed and forlorn. But if, through life, weare in continual suspense, still expecting, still desiring, and are incontinual pain and torture, good Gods! how pleasant must that journeybe which ends in security and ease! How pleased am I with Theramenes!Of how exalted a soul does he appear! For, although we never read ofhim without tears, yet that illustrious man is not to be lamented inhis death, who, when he had been imprisoned by the command of thethirty tyrants, drank off, at one draught, as if he had been thirsty, the poisoned cup, and threw the remainder out of it with such forcethat it sounded as it fell; and then, on hearing the sound of thedrops, he said, with a smile, "I drink this to the most excellentCritias, " who had been his most bitter enemy; for it is customary amongthe Greeks, at their banquets, to name the person to whom they intendto deliver the cup. This celebrated man was pleasant to the last, evenwhen he had received the poison into his bowels, and truly foretold thedeath of that man whom he named when he drank the poison, and thatdeath soon followed. Who that thinks death an evil could approve of theevenness of temper in this great man at the instant of dying? Socratescame, a few years after, to the same prison and the same cup by asgreat iniquity on the part of his judges as the tyrants displayed whenthey executed Theramenes. What a speech is that which Plato makes himdeliver before his judges, after they had condemned him to death!

XLI. "I am not without hopes, O judges, that it is a favorablecircumstance for me that I am condemned to die; for one of these twothings must necessarily happen--either that death will deprive meentirely of all sense, or else that, by dying, I shall go from henceinto some other place; wherefore, if all sense is utterly extinguished, and if death is like that sleep which sometimes is so undisturbed as tobe even without the visions of dreams--in that case, O ye good Gods!what gain is it to die? or what length of days can be imagined whichwould be preferable to such a night? And if the constant course offuture time is to resemble that night, who is happier than I am? But ifon the other hand, what is said be true, namely, that death is but aremoval to those regions where the souls of the departed dwell, thenthat state must be more happy still to have escaped from those who callthemselves judges, and to appear before such as are truly so--Minos, Rhadamanthus, Æacus, Triptolemus--and to meet with those who have livedwith justice and probity![23] Can this change of abode appear otherwisethan great to you? What bounds can you set to the value of conversingwith Orpheus, and Musæus, and Homer, and Hesiod? I would even, were itpossible, willingly die often, in order to prove the certainty of whatI speak of. What delight must it be to meet with Palamedes, and Ajax, and others, who have been betrayed by the iniquity of their judges!Then, also, should I experience the wisdom of even that king of kings, who led his vast troops to Troy, and the prudence of Ulysses andSisyphus: nor should I then be condemned for prosecuting my inquirieson such subjects in the same way in which I have done here on earth. And even you, my judges, you, I mean, who have voted for my acquittal, do not you fear death, for nothing bad can befall a good man, whetherhe be alive or dead; nor are his concerns ever overlooked by the Gods;nor in my case either has this befallen me by chance; and I havenothing to charge those men with who accused or condemned me but thefact that they believed that they were doing me harm. " In this mannerhe proceeded. There is no part of his speech which I admire more thanhis last words: "But it is time, " says he, "for me now to go hence, that I may die; and for you, that you may continue to live. Whichcondition of the two is the best, the immortal Gods know; but I do notbelieve that any mortal man does. "

XLII. Surely I would rather have had this man's soul than all thefortunes of those who sat in judgment on him; although that very thingwhich he says no one except the Gods know, namely, whether life ordeath is most preferable, he knows himself, for he had previouslystated his opinion on it; but he maintained to the last that favoritemaxim of his, of affirming nothing. And let us, too, adhere to thisrule of not thinking anything an evil which is a general provision ofnature; and let us assure ourselves, that if death is an evil, it is aneternal evil, for death seems to be the end of a miserable life; but ifdeath is a misery, there can be no end of that. But why do I mentionSocrates, or Theramenes, men distinguished by the glory of virtue andwisdom? when a certain Lacedæmomian, whose name is not so much asknown, held death in such contempt, that, when led to it by the ephori, he bore a cheerful and pleasant countenance; and, when he was asked byone of his enemies whether he despised the laws of Lycurgus, "On thecontrary, " answered he, "I am greatly obliged to him, for he hasamerced me in a fine which I can pay without borrowing, or taking upmoney at interest. " This was a man worthy of Sparta. And I am almostpersuaded of his innocence because of the greatness of his soul. Ourown city has produced many such. But why should I name generals, andother men of high rank, when Cato could write that legions have marchedwith alacrity to that place from whence they never expected to return?With no less greatness of soul fell the Lacedæmonians at Thermopylæ, onwhom Simonides wrote the following epitaph:

 Go, stranger, tell the Spartans, here we lie, Who to support their laws durst boldly die. [24]

What was it that Leonidas, their general, said to them? "March on withcourage, my Lacedæmonians. To-night, perhaps, we shall sup in theregions below. " This was a brave nation while the laws of Lycurgus werein force. One of them, when a Persian had said to him in conversation, "We shall hide the sun from your sight by the number of our arrows anddarts, " replied, "We shall fight, then in the shade. " Do I talk oftheir men? How great was that Lacedæmonian woman, who had sent her sonto battle, and when she heard that he was slain, said, "I bore him forthat purpose, that you might have a man who durst die for his country!"However, it is a matter of notoriety that the Spartans were bold andhardy, for the discipline of a republic has great influence. 

XLIII. What, then, have we not reason to admire Theodorus the Cyrenean, a philosopher of no small distinction, who, when Lysimachus threatenedto crucify him, bade him keep those menaces for his courtiers? "ToTheodorus it makes no difference whether he rot in the air orunderground. " By which saying of the philosopher I am reminded to saysomething of the custom of funerals and sepulture, and of funeralceremonies, which is, indeed, not a difficult subject, especially if werecollect what has been before said about insensibility. The opinion ofSocrates respecting this matter is clearly stated in the book whichtreats of his death, of which we have already said so much; for when hehad discussed the immortality of the soul, and when the time of hisdying was approaching rapidly, being asked by Criton how he would beburied, "I have taken a great deal of pains, " saith he, "my friends, tono purpose, for I have not convinced our Criton that I shall fly fromhence, and leave no part of me behind. Notwithstanding, Criton, if youcan overtake me, wheresoever you get hold of me, bury me as you please:but believe me, none of you will be able to catch me when I have flownaway from hence. " That was excellently said, inasmuch as he allows hisfriend to do as he pleased, and yet shows his indifference aboutanything of this kind. Diogenes was rougher, though of the sameopinion; but in his character of a Cynic he expressed himself in asomewhat harsher manner; he ordered himself to be thrown anywherewithout being buried. And when his friends replied, "What! to the birdsand beasts?" "By no means, " saith he; "place my staff near me, that Imay drive them away. " "How can you do that, " they answer, "for you willnot perceive them?" "How am I then injured by being torn by thoseanimals, if I have no sensation?" Anaxagoras, when he was at the pointof death at Lampsacus, and was asked by his friends, whether, ifanything should happen to him, he would not choose to be carried toClazomenæ, his country, made this excellent answer, "There is, " sayshe, "no occasion for that, for all places are at an equal distance fromthe infernal regions. " There is one thing to be observed with respectto the whole subject of burial, that it relates to the body, whetherthe soul live or die. Now, with regard to the body, it is clear that, whether the soul live or die, that has no sensation. 

XLIV. But all things are full of errors. Achilles drags Hector, tied tohis chariot; he thinks, I suppose, he tears his flesh, and that Hectorfeels the pain of it; therefore, he avenges himself on him, as heimagines. But Hecuba bewails this as a sore misfortune:

 I saw (a dreadful sight) great Hector slain, Dragg'd at Achilles' car along the plain. 

What Hector? or how long will he be Hector? Accius is better in this, and Achilles, too, is sometimes reasonable:

 I Hector's body to his sire convey'd, Hector I sent to the infernal shade. 

It was not Hector that you dragged along, but a body that had beenHector's. Here another starts from underground, and will not suffer hismother to sleep:

 To thee I call, my once-loved parent, hear, Nor longer with thy sleep relieve thy care; Thine eye which pities not is closed--arise; Ling'ring I wait the unpaid obsequies. 

When these verses are sung with a slow and melancholy tune, so as toaffect the whole theatre with sadness, one can scarce help thinkingthose unhappy that are unburied:

 Ere the devouring dogs and hungry vultures. .. 

He is afraid he shall not have the use of his limbs so well if they aretorn to pieces, but is under no such apprehensions if they are burned:

 Nor leave my naked bones, my poor remains, To shameful violence and bloody stains. 

I do not understand what he could fear who could pour forth suchexcellent verses to the sound of the flute. We must, therefore, adhereto this, that nothing is to be regarded after we are dead, though manypeople revenge themselves on their dead enemies. Thyestes pours forthseveral curses in some good lines of Ennius, praying, first of all, that Atreus may perish by a shipwreck, which is certainly a veryterrible thing, for such a death is not free from very grievoussensations. Then follow these unmeaning expressions:

 May On the sharp rock his mangled carcass lie, His entrails torn, to hungry birds a prey! May he convulsive writhe his bleeding side, And with his clotted gore the stones be dyed!

The rocks themselves were not more destitute of feeling than he who washanging to them by his side; though Thyestes imagines he is wishing himthe greatest torture. It would be torture, indeed, if he were sensible;but as he is not, it can be none; then how very unmeaning is this:

 Let him, still hovering o'er the Stygian wave, Ne'er reach the body's peaceful port, the grave!

You see under what mistaken notions all this is said. He imagines thebody has its haven, and that the dead are at rest in their graves. Pelops was greatly to blame in not having informed and taught his sonwhat regard was due to everything. 

XLV. But what occasion is there to animadvert on the opinions ofindividuals, when we may observe whole nations to fall into all sortsof errors? The Egyptians embalm their dead, and keep them in theirhouses; the Persians dress them over with wax, and then bury them, thatthey may preserve their bodies as long as possible. It is customarywith the Magi to bury none of their order, unless they have been firsttorn by wild beasts. In Hyrcania, the people maintain dogs for thepublic use; the nobles have their own--and we know that they have agood breed of dogs; but every one, according to his ability, provideshimself with some, in order to be torn by them; and they hold that tobe the best kind of interment. Chrysippus, who is curious in all kindsof historical facts, has collected many other things of this kind; butsome of them are so offensive as not to admit of being related. Allthat has been said of burying is not worth our regard with respect toourselves, though it is not to be neglected as to our friends, providedwe are thoroughly aware that the dead are insensible. But the living, indeed, should consider what is due to custom and opinion; only theyshould at the same time consider that the dead are noways interested init. But death truly is then met with the greatest tranquillity when thedying man can comfort himself with his own praise. No one dies too soonwho has finished the course of perfect virtue. I myself have known manyoccasions when I have seemed in danger of immediate death; oh! how Iwish it had come to me! for I have gained nothing by the delay. I hadgone over and over again the duties of life; nothing remained but tocontend with fortune. If reason, then, cannot sufficiently fortify usto enable us to feel a contempt for death, at all events let our pastlife prove that we have lived long enough, and even longer than wasnecessary; for notwithstanding the deprivation of sense, the dead arenot without that good which peculiarly belongs to them, namely, thepraise and glory which they have acquired, even though they are notsensible of it. For although there be nothing in glory to make itdesirable, yet it follows virtue as its shadow; and the genuinejudgment of the multitude on good men, if ever they form any, is moreto their own praise than of any real advantage to the dead. Yet Icannot say, however it may be received, that Lycurgus and Solon have noglory from their laws, and from the political constitution which theyestablished in their country; or that Themistocles and Epaminondas havenot glory from their martial virtue. 

XLVI. For Neptune shall sooner bury Salamis itself with his waters thanthe memory of the trophies gained there; and the Boeotian Leuctra shallperish sooner than the glory of that great battle. And longer stillshall fame be before it deserts Curius, and Fabricius, and Calatinus, and the two Scipios, and the two Africani, and Maximus, and Marcellus, and Paulus, and Cato, and Lælius, and numberless other heroes; andwhoever has caught any resemblance of them, not estimating it by commonfame, but by the real applause of good men, may with confidence, whenthe occasion requires, approach death, on which we are sure that evenif the chief good is not continued, at least no evil is. Such a manwould even wish to die while in prosperity; for all the favors thatcould be heaped on him would not be so agreeable to him as the loss ofthem would be painful. That speech of the Lacedæmonian seems to havethe same meaning, who, when Diagoras the Rhodian, who had himself beena conqueror at the Olympic games, saw two of his own sons conquerorsthere on the same day, approached the old man, and, congratulating him, said, "You should die now, Diagoras, for no greater happiness canpossibly await you. " The Greeks look on these as great things; perhapsthey think too highly of them, or, rather, they did so then. And so hewho said this to Diagoras, looking on it as something very glorious, that three men out of one family should have been conquerors there, thought it could answer no purpose to him to continue any longer inlife, where he could only be exposed to a reverse of fortune. 

I might have given you a sufficient answer, as it seems to me, on thispoint, in a few words, as you had allowed the dead were not exposed toany positive evil; but I have spoken at greater length on the subjectfor this reason, because this is our greatest consolation in the losingand bewailing of our friends. For we ought to bear with moderation anygrief which arises from ourselves, or is endured on our own account, lest we should seem to be too much influenced by self-love. But shouldwe suspect our departed friends to be under those evils, which they aregenerally imagined to be, and to be sensible of them, then such asuspicion would give us intolerable pain; and accordingly I wished, formy own sake, to pluck up this opinion by the roots, and on that accountI have been perhaps somewhat more prolix than was necessary. 

XLVII. _A. _ More prolix than was necessary? Certainty not, in myopinion. For I was induced, by the former part of your speech, to wishto die; but, by the latter, sometimes not to be unwilling, and atothers to be wholly indifferent about it. But the effect of your wholeargument is, that I am convinced that death ought not to be classedamong the evils. 

_M. _ Do you, then, expect that I am to give you a regular peroration, like the rhetoricians, or shall I forego that art?

_A. _ I would not have you give over an art which you have set off tosuch advantage; and you were in the right to do so, for, to speak thetruth, it also has set you off. But what is that peroration? For Ishould be glad to hear it, whatever it is. 

_M. _ It is customary, in the schools, to produce the opinions of theimmortal Gods on death; nor are these opinions the fruits of theimagination alone of the lecturers, but they have the authority ofHerodotus and many others. Cleobis and Biton are the first theymention, sons of the Argive priestess; the story is a well-known one. As it was necessary that she should be drawn in a chariot to a certainannual sacrifice, which was solemnized at a temple some considerabledistance from the town, and the cattle that were to draw the chariothad not arrived, those two young men whom I have just mentioned, pulling off their garments, and anointing their bodies with oil, harnessed themselves to the yoke. And in this manner the priestess wasconveyed to the temple; and when the chariot had arrived at the properplace, she is said to have entreated the Goddess to bestow on them, asa reward for their piety, the greatest gift that a God could confer onman. And the young men, after having feasted with their mother, fellasleep; and in the morning they were found dead. Trophonius andAgamedes are said to have put up the same petition, for they, havingbuilt a temple to Apollo at Delphi, offered supplications to the God, and desired of him some extraordinary reward for their care and labor, particularizing nothing, but asking for whatever was best for men. Accordingly, Apollo signified to them that he would bestow it on themin three days, and on the third day at daybreak they were found dead. And so they say that this was a formal decision pronounced by that Godto whom the rest of the deities have assigned the province of diviningwith an accuracy superior to that of all the rest. 

XLVIII. There is also a story told of Silenus, who, when taken prisonerby Midas, is said to have made him this present for his ransom--namely, that he informed him[25] that never to have been born was by far thegreatest blessing that could happen to man; and that the next bestthing was to die very soon; which very opinion Euripides makes use ofin his Cresphontes, saying, When man is born, 'tis fit, with solemn show, We speak our sense of his approaching woe; With other gestures and a different eye, Proclaim our pleasure when he's bid to die. [26]

There is something like this in Crantor's Consolation; for he says thatTerinæsus of Elysia, when he was bitterly lamenting the loss of hisson, came to a place of divination to be informed why he was visitedwith so great affliction, and received in his tablet these threeverses:

 Thou fool, to murmur at Euthynous' death! The blooming youth to fate resigns his breath: The fate, whereon your happiness depends, At once the parent and the son befriends. [27]

On these and similar authorities they affirm that the question has beendetermined by the Gods. Nay, more; Alcidamas, an ancient rhetorician ofthe very highest reputation, wrote even in praise of death, which heendeavored to establish by an enumeration of the evils of life; and hisDissertation has a great deal of eloquence in it; but he wasunacquainted with the more refined arguments of the philosophers. Bythe orators, indeed, to die for our country is always considered notonly as glorious, but even as happy: they go back as far asErechtheus, [28] whose very daughters underwent death, for the safety oftheir fellow-citizens: they instance Codrus, who threw himself into themidst of his enemies, dressed like a common man, that his royal robesmight not betray him, because the oracle had declared the Atheniansconquerors, if their king was slain. Menoeceus[29] is not overlooked bythem, who, in compliance with the injunctions of an oracle, freely shedhis blood for his country. Iphigenia ordered herself to be conveyed toAulis, to be sacrificed, that her blood might be the cause of spillingthat of her enemies. 

XLIX. From hence they proceed to instances of a fresher date. Harmodiusand Aristogiton are in everybody's mouth; the memory of Leonidas theLacedæmonian and Epaminondas the Theban is as fresh as ever. Thosephilosophers were not acquainted with the many instances in ourcountry--to give a list of whom would take up too much time--who, wesee, considered death desirable as long as it was accompanied withhonor. But, notwithstanding this is the correct view of the case, wemust use much persuasion, speak as if we were endued with some higherauthority, in order to bring men to begin to wish to die, or cease tobe afraid of death. For if that last day does not occasion an entireextinction, but a change of abode only, what can be more desirable? Andif it, on the other hand, destroys, and absolutely puts an end to us, what can be preferable to the having a deep sleep fall on us, in themidst of the fatigues of life, and being thus overtaken, to sleep toeternity? And, should this really be the case, then Ennius's languageis more consistent with wisdom than Solon's; for our Ennius says, Let none bestow upon my passing bier One needless sigh or unavailing tear. 

But the wise Solon says, Let me not unlamented die, but o'er my bier Burst forth the tender sigh, the friendly tear. [30]

But let us, if indeed it should be our fate to know the time which isappointed by the Gods for us to die, prepare ourselves for it with acheerful and grateful mind, thinking ourselves like men who aredelivered from a jail, and released from their fetters, for the purposeof going back to our eternal habitation, which may be more emphaticallycalled our own; or else to be divested of all sense and trouble. If, onthe other hand, we should have no notice given us of this decree, yetlet us cultivate such a disposition as to look on that formidable hourof death as happy for us, though shocking to our friends; and let usnever imagine anything to be an evil which is an appointment of theimmortal Gods, or of nature, the common parent of all. For it is not byhazard or without design that we have been born and situated as wehave. On the contrary, beyond all doubt there is a certain power whichconsults the happiness of human nature; and this would neither haveproduced nor provided for a being which, after having gone through thelabors of life, was to fall into eternal misery by death. Let us ratherinfer that we have a retreat and haven prepared for us, which I wish wecould crowd all sail and arrive at; but though the winds should notserve, and we should be driven back, yet we shall to a certainty arriveat that point eventually, though somewhat later. But how can that bemiserable for one which all must of necessity undergo? I have given youa peroration, that you might not think I had overlooked or neglectedanything. 

_A. _ I am persuaded you have not; and, indeed, that peroration hasconfirmed me. 

_M. _ I am glad it has had that effect. But it is now time to consultour health. To-morrow, and all the time we continue in this Tusculanvilla, let us consider this subject; and especially those portions ofit which may ease our pain, alleviate our fears, and lessen ourdesires, which is the greatest advantage we can reap from the whole ofphilosophy. 

 * * * * *

BOOK II. 

ON BEARING PAIN. 

I. Neoptolemus, in Ennius, indeed, says that the study of philosophywas expedient for him; but that it required limiting to a few subjects, for that to give himself up entirely to it was what he did not approveof. And for my part, Brutus, I am perfectly persuaded that it isexpedient for me to philosophize; for what can I do better, especiallyas I have no regular occupation? But I am not for limiting myphilosophy to a few subjects, as he does; for philosophy is a matter inwhich it is difficult to acquire a little knowledge without acquaintingyourself with many, or all its branches, nor can you well take a fewsubjects without selecting them out of a great number; nor can any one, who has acquired the knowledge of a few points, avoid endeavoring withthe same eagerness to understand more. But still, in a busy life, andin one mainly occupied with military matters, such as that ofNeoptolemus was at that time, even that limited degree of acquaintancewith philosophy may be of great use, and may yield fruit, not perhapsso plentiful as a thorough knowledge of the whole of philosophy, butyet such as in some degree may at times deliver us from the dominion ofour desires, our sorrows, and our fears; just as the effect of thatdiscussion which we lately maintained in my Tusculan villa seemed to bethat a great contempt of death was engendered, which contempt is of nosmall efficacy towards delivering the mind from fear; for whoeverdreads what cannot be avoided can by no means live with a quiet andtranquil mind. But he who is under no fear of death, not only becauseit is a thing absolutely inevitable but also because he is persuadedthat death itself hath nothing terrible in it, provides himself with avery great resource towards a happy life. However, I am not tolerantthat many will argue strenuously against us; and, indeed, that is athing which can never be avoided, except by abstaining from writing atall. For if my Orations, which were addressed to the judgment andapprobation of the people (for that is a popular art, and the object oforatory is popular applause), have been criticised by some people whoare inclined to withhold their praise from everything but what they arepersuaded they can attain to themselves, and who limit their ideas ofgood speaking by the hopes which they conceive of what they themselvesmay attain to, and who declare, when they are overwhelmed with a flowof words and sentences, that they prefer the utmost poverty of thoughtand expression to that plenty and copiousness (from which arose theAttic kind of oratory, which they who professed it were strangers to, though they have now been some time silenced, and laughed out of thevery courts of justice), what may I not expect, when at present Icannot have the least countenance from the people by whom I used to beupheld before? For philosophy is satisfied with a few judges, and ofher own accord industriously avoids the multitude, who are jealous ofit, and utterly displeased with it; so that, should any one undertaketo cry down the whole of it, he would have the people on his side;while, if he should attack that school which I particularly profess, hewould have great assistance from those of the other philosophers. 

II. But I have answered the detractors of philosophy in general, in myHortensius. And what I had to say in favor of the Academics, is, Ithink, explained with sufficient accuracy in my four books of theAcademic Question. 

But yet I am so far from desiring that no one should write against me, that it is what I most earnestly wish; for philosophy would never havebeen in such esteem in Greece itself, if it had not been for thestrength which it acquired from the contentions and disputations of themost learned men; and therefore I recommend all men who have abilitiesto follow my advice to snatch this art also from declining Greece, andto transport it to this city; as our ancestors by their study andindustry have imported all their other arts which were worth having. Thus the praise of oratory, raised from a low degree, is arrived atsuch perfection that it must now decline, and, as is the nature of allthings, verge to its dissolution in a very short time. Let philosophy, then, derive its birth in Latin language from this time, and let uslend it our assistance, and bear patiently to be contradicted andrefuted; and although those men may dislike such treatment who arebound and devoted to certain predetermined opinions, and are under suchobligations to maintain them that they are forced, for the sake ofconsistency, to adhere to them even though they do not themselveswholly approve of them; we, on the other hand, who pursue onlyprobabilities, and who cannot go beyond that which seems really likely, can confute others without obstinacy, and are prepared to be confutedourselves without resentment. Besides, if these studies are everbrought home to us, we shall not want even Greek libraries, in whichthere is an infinite number of books, by reason of the multitude ofauthors among them; for it is a common practice with many to repeat thesame things which have been written by others, which serves no purposebut to stuff their shelves; and this will be our case, too, if manyapply themselves to this study. 

III. But let us excite those, if possible, who have had a liberaleducation, and are masters of an elegant style, and who philosophizewith reason and method. 

For there is a certain class of them who would willingly be calledphilosophers, whose books in our language are said to be numerous, andwhich I do not despise; for, indeed, I never read them: but still, because the authors themselves declare that they write without anyregularity, or method, or elegance, or ornament, I do not care to readwhat must be so void of entertainment. There is no one in the leastacquainted with literature who does not know the style and sentimentsof that school; wherefore, since they are at no pains to expressthemselves well, I do not see why they should be read by anybody exceptby one another. Let them read them, if they please, who are of the sameopinions; for in the same manner as all men read Plato and the otherSocratics, with those who sprung from them, even those who do not agreewith their opinions, or are very indifferent about them; but scarcelyany one except their own disciples take Epicurus or Metrodorus intotheir hands; so they alone read these Latin books who think that thearguments contained in them are sound. But, in my opinion, whatever ispublished should be recommended to the reading of every man oflearning; and though we may not succeed in this ourselves, yetnevertheless we must be sensible that this ought to be the aim of everywriter. And on this account I have always been pleased with the customof the Peripatetics and Academics, of disputing on both sides of thequestion; not solely from its being the only method of discovering whatis probable on every subject, but also because it affords the greatestscope for practising eloquence; a method that Aristotle first made useof, and afterward all the Aristotelians; and in our own memory Plilo, whom we have often heard, appointed one time to treat of the preceptsof the rhetoricians, and another for philosophical discussion, to whichcustom I was brought to conform by my friends at my Tusculum; andaccordingly our leisure time was spent in this manner. And therefore, as yesterday before noon we applied ourselves to speaking, and in theafternoon went down into the Academy, the discussions which were heldthere I have acquainted you with, not in the manner of a narration, butin almost the very same words which were employed in the debate. 

IV. The discourse, then, was introduced in this manner while we werewalking, and it was commenced by some such an opening as this:

_A. _ It is not to be expressed how much I was delighted, or ratheredified, by your discourse of yesterday. For although I am conscious tomyself that I have never been too fond of life, yet at times, when Ihave considered that there would be an end to this life, and that Imust some time or other part with all its good things, a certain dreadand uneasiness used to intrude itself on my thoughts; but now, believeme, I am so freed from that kind of uneasiness that there is nothingthat I think less worth any regard. 

_M. _ I am not at all surprised at that, for it is the effect ofphilosophy, which is the medicine of our souls; it banishes allgroundless apprehensions, frees us from desires, and drives away fears:but it has not the same influence over all men; it is of very greatinfluence when it falls in with a disposition well adapted to it. Fornot only does Fortune, as the old proverb says, assist the bold, butreason does so in a still greater degree; for it, by certain precepts, as it were, strengthens even courage itself. You were born naturallygreat and soaring, and with a contempt for all things which pertain toman alone; therefore a discourse against death took easy possession ofa brave soul. But do you imagine that these same arguments have anyforce with those very persons who have invented, and canvassed, andpublished them, excepting indeed some very few particular persons? Forhow few philosophers will you meet with whose life and manners areconformable to the dictates of reason! who look on their profession, not as a means of displaying their learning, but as a rule for theirown practice! who follow their own precepts, and comply with their owndecrees! You may see some of such levity and such vanity, that it wouldhave been better for them to have been ignorant; some covetous ofmoney, some others eager for glory, many slaves to their lusts; so thattheir discourses and their actions are most strangely at variance; thanwhich nothing in my opinion can be more unbecoming: for just as if onewho professed to teach grammar should speak with impropriety, or amaster of music sing out of tune, such conduct has the worst appearancein these men, because they blunder in the very particular with whichthey profess that they are well acquainted. So a philosopher who errsin the conduct of his life is the more infamous because he is erring inthe very thing which he pretends to teach, and, while he lays downrules to regulate life by, is irregular in his own life. 

V. _A. _ Should this be the case, is it not to be feared that you aredressing up philosophy in false colors? For what stronger argument canthere be that it is of little use than that some very profoundphilosophers live in a discreditable manner?

_M. _ That, indeed, is no argument at all, for as all the fields whichare cultivated are not fruitful (and this sentiment of Accius is false, and asserted without any foundation, The ground you sow on is of small avail; To yield a crop good seed can never fail), it is not every mind which has been properly cultivated that producesfruit; and, to go on with the comparison, as a field, although it maybe naturally fruitful, cannot produce a crop without dressing, soneither can the mind without education; such is the weakness of eitherwithout the other. Whereas philosophy is the culture of the mind: thisit is which plucks up vices by the roots; prepares the mind for thereceiving of seeds; commits them to it, or, as I may say, sows them, inthe hope that, when come to maturity, they may produce a plentifulharvest. Let us proceed, then, as we began. Say, if you please, whatshall be the subject of our disputation. 

_A. _ I look on pain to be the greatest of all evils. 

_M. _ What, even greater than infamy?

_A. _ I dare not indeed assert that; and I blush to think I am so soondriven from my ground. 

_M. _ You would have had greater reason for blushing had you perseveredin it; for what is so unbecoming--what can appear worse to you, thandisgrace, wickedness, immorality? To avoid which, what pain is therewhich we ought not (I will not say to avoid shirking, but even) of ourown accord to encounter, and undergo, and even to court?

_A. _ I am entirely of that opinion; but, notwithstanding that pain isnot the greatest evil, yet surely it is an evil. 

_M. _ Do you perceive, then, how much of the terror of pain you havegiven up on a small hint?

_A. _ I see that plainly; but I should be glad to give up more of it. 

_M. _ I will endeavor to make you do so; but it is a great undertaking, and I must have a disposition on your part which is not inclined tooffer any obstacles. 

_A. _ You shall have such: for as I behaved yesterday, so now I willfollow reason wherever she leads. 

VI. _M. _ First, then, I will speak of the weakness of manyphilosophers, and those, too, of various sects; the head of whom, bothin authority and antiquity, was Aristippus, the pupil of Socrates, whohesitated not to say that pain was the greatest of all evils. And afterhim Epicurus easily gave in to this effeminate and enervated doctrine. After him Hieronymus the Rhodian said, that to be without pain was thechief good, so great an evil did pain appear to him to be. The rest, with the exceptions of Zeno, Aristo, Pyrrho, were pretty much of thesame opinion that you were of just now--that it was indeed an evil, butthat there were many worse. When, then, nature herself, and a certaingenerous feeling of virtue, at once prevents you from persisting in theassertion that pain is the chief evil, and when you were driven fromsuch an opinion when disgrace was contrasted with pain, shallphilosophy, the preceptress of life, cling to this idea for so manyages? What duty of life, what praise, what reputation, would be of suchconsequence that a man should be desirous of gaining it at the expenseof submitting to bodily pain, when he has persuaded himself that painis the greatest evil? On the other side, what disgrace, what ignominy, would he not submit to that he might avoid pain, when persuaded that itwas the greatest of evils? Besides, what person, if it be only truethat pain is the greatest of evils, is not miserable, not only when heactually feels pain, but also whenever he is aware that it may befallhim. And who is there whom pain may not befall? So that it is clearthat there is absolutely no one who can possibly be happy. Metrodorus, indeed, thinks that man perfectly happy whose body is free from alldisorders, and who has an assurance that it will always continue so;but who is there who can be assured of that?

VII. But Epicurus, indeed, says such things that it should seem thathis design was only to make people laugh; for he affirms somewhere thatif a wise man were to be burned or put to the torture--you expect, perhaps, that he is going to say he would bear it, he would supporthimself under it with resolution, he would not yield to it (and that byHercules! would be very commendable, and worthy of that very Herculeswhom I have just invoked): but even this will not satisfy Epicurus, that robust and hardy man! No; his wise man, even if he were inPhalaris's bull, would say, How sweet it is! how little do I regard it!What, sweet? Is it not sufficient, if it is not disagreeable? But thosevery men who deny pain to be an evil are not in the habit of sayingthat it is agreeable to any one to be tormented; they rather say thatit is cruel, or hard to bear, afflicting, unnatural, but still not anevil: while this man who says that it is the only evil, and the veryworst of all evils, yet thinks that a wise man would pronounce itsweet. I do not require of you to speak of pain in the same words whichEpicurus uses--a man, as you know, devoted to pleasure: he may make nodifference, if he pleases, between Phalaris's bull and his own bed; butI cannot allow the wise man to be so indifferent about pain. If hebears it with courage, it is sufficient: that he should rejoice in it, I do not expect; for pain is, beyond all question, sharp, bitter, against nature, hard to submit to and to bear. Observe Philoctetes: Wemay allow him to lament, for he saw Hercules himself groaning loudlythrough extremity of pain on Mount Oeta. The arrows with which Herculespresented him were then no consolation to him, when

 The viper's bite, impregnating his veins With poison, rack'd him with its bitter pains. 

And therefore he cries out, desiring help, and wishing to die, Oh that some friendly hand its aid would lend, My body from this rock's vast height to send Into the briny deep! I'm all on fire, And by this fatal wound must soon expire. 

It is hard to say that the man who was obliged to cry out in thismanner was not oppressed with evil, and great evil too. 

VIII. But let us observe Hercules himself, who was subdued by pain atthe very time when he was on the point of attaining immortality bydeath. What words does Sophocles here put in his mouth, in hisTrachiniæ? who, when Deianira had put upon him a tunic dyed in thecentaur's blood, and it stuck to his entrails, says, What tortures I endure no words can tell, Far greater these, than those which erst befell From the dire terror of thy consort, Jove-- E'en stern Eurystheus' dire command above; This of thy daughter, Oeneus, is the fruit, Beguiling me with her envenom'd suit, Whose close embrace doth on my entrails prey, Consuming life; my lungs forbid to play; The blood forsakes my veins; my manly heart Forgets to beat; enervated, each part Neglects its office, while my fatal doom Proceeds ignobly from the weaver's loom. The hand of foe ne'er hurt me, nor the fierce Giant issuing from his parent earth. Ne'er could the Centaur such a blow enforce, No barbarous foe, nor all the Grecian force; This arm no savage people could withstand, Whose realms I traversed to reform the land. Thus, though I ever bore a manly heart, I fall a victim to a woman's art. IX. Assist, my son, if thou that name dost hear, My groans preferring to thy mother's tear: Convey her here, if, in thy pious heart, Thy mother shares not an unequal part: Proceed, be bold, thy father's fate bemoan, Nations will join, you will not weep alone. Oh, what a sight is this same briny source, Unknown before, through all my labors' course! That virtue, which could brave each toil but late, With woman's weakness now bewails its fate. Approach, my son; behold thy father laid, A wither'd carcass that implores thy aid; Let all behold: and thou, imperious Jove, On me direct thy lightning from above: Now all its force the poison doth assume, And my burnt entrails with its flame consume. Crestfallen, unembraced, I now let fall Listless, those hands that lately conquer'd all; When the Nemæan lion own'd their force, And he indignant fell a breathless corse; The serpent slew, of the Lernean lake, As did the Hydra of its force partake: By this, too, fell the Erymanthian boar: E'en Cerberus did his weak strength deplore. This sinewy arm did overcome with ease That dragon, guardian of the Golden Fleece. My many conquests let some others trace; It's mine to say, I never knew disgrace. [31]

Can we then, despise pain, when we see Hercules himself giving vent tohis expressions of agony with such impatience?

X. Let us see what Æschylus says, who was not only a poet but aPythagorean philosopher also, for that is the account which you havereceived of him; how doth he make Prometheus bear the pain he sufferedfor the Lemnian theft, when he clandestinely stole away the celestialfire, and bestowed it on men, and was severely punished by Jupiter forthe theft. Fastened to Mount Caucasus, he speaks thus:

 Thou heav'n-born race of Titans here fast bound, Behold thy brother! As the sailors sound With care the bottom, and their ships confine To some safe shore, with anchor and with line; So, by Jove's dread decree, the God of fire Confines me here the victim of Jove's ire. With baneful art his dire machine he shapes; From such a God what mortal e'er escapes? When each third day shall triumph o'er the night, Then doth the vulture, with his talons light, Seize on my entrails; which, in rav'nous guise, He preys on! then with wing extended flies Aloft, and brushes with his plumes the gore: But when dire Jove my liver doth restore, Back he returns impetuous to his prey, Clapping his wings, he cuts th' ethereal way. Thus do I nourish with my blood this pest, Confined my arms, unable to contest; Entreating only that in pity Jove Would take my life, and this cursed plague remove. But endless ages past unheard my moan, Sooner shall drops dissolve this very stone. [32]

And therefore it scarcely seems possible to avoid calling a man who issuffering, miserable; and if he is miserable, then pain is an evil. 

XI. _A. _ Hitherto you are on my side; I will see to that by-and-by;and, in the mean while, whence are those verses? I do not rememberthem. 

_M. _ I will inform you, for you are in the right to ask. Do you seethat I have much leisure?

_A. _ What, then?

_M. _ I imagine, when you were at Athens, you attended frequently at theschools of the philosophers. 

_A. _ Yes, and with great pleasure. 

_M. _ You observed, then, that though none of them at that time werevery eloquent, yet they used to mix verses with their harangues. 

_A. _ Yes, and particularly Dionysius the Stoic used to employ a greatmany. 

_M. _ You say right; but they were quoted without any appropriateness orelegance. But our friend Philo used to give a few select lines and welladapted; and in imitation of him, ever since I took a fancy to thiskind of elderly declamation, I have been very fond of quoting ourpoets; and where I cannot be supplied from them, I translate from theGreek, that the Latin language may not want any kind of ornament inthis kind of disputation. 

But, do you not see how much harm is done by poets? They introduce thebravest men lamenting over their misfortunes: they soften our minds;and they are, besides, so entertaining, that we do not only read them, but get them by heart. Thus the influence of the poets is added to ourwant of discipline at home, and our tender and delicate manner ofliving, so that between them they have deprived virtue of all its vigorand energy. Plato, therefore, was right in banishing them from hiscommonwealth, where he required the best morals, and the best form ofgovernment. But we, who have all our learning from Greece, read andlearn these works of theirs from our childhood; and look on this as aliberal and learned education. 

XII. But why are we angry with the poets? We may find somephilosophers, those masters of virtue, who have taught that pain wasthe greatest of evils. But you, young man, when you said but just nowthat it appeared so to you, upon being asked by me what appearedgreater than infamy, gave up that opinion at a word. Suppose I askEpicurus the same question. He will answer that a trifling degree ofpain is a greater evil than the greatest infamy; for that there is noevil in infamy itself, unless attended with pain. What pain, then, attends Epicurus, when he says that very thing, that pain is thegreatest evil! And yet nothing can be a greater disgrace to aphilosopher than to talk thus. Therefore, you allowed enough when youadmitted that infamy appeared to you to be a greater evil than pain. And if you abide by this admission, you will see how far pain should beresisted; and that our inquiry should be not so much whether pain be anevil, as how the mind may be fortified for resisting it. The Stoicsinfer from some petty quibbling arguments that it is no evil, as if thedispute were about a word, and not about the thing itself. Why do youimpose upon me, Zeno? For when you deny what appears very dreadful tome to be an evil, I am deceived, and am at a loss to know why thatwhich appears to me to be a most miserable thing should be no evil. Theanswer is, that nothing is an evil but what is base and vicious. Youreturn to your trifling, for you do not remove what made me uneasy. Iknow that pain is not vice--you need not inform me of that: but show methat it makes no difference to me whether I am in pain or not. It hasnever anything to do, say you, with a happy life, for that depends uponvirtue alone; but yet pain is to be avoided. If I ask, why? It isdisagreeable, against nature, hard to bear, woful and afflicting. 

XIII. Here are many words to express that by so many different formswhich we call by the single word evil. You are defining pain, insteadof removing it, when you say, it is disagreeable, unnatural, scarcelypossible to be endured or borne, nor are you wrong in saying so: butthe man who vaunts himself in such a manner should not give way in hisconduct, if it be true that nothing is good but what is honest, andnothing evil but what is disgraceful. This would be wishing, notproving. This argument is a better one, and has more truth in it--thatall things which Nature abhors are to be looked upon as evil; thatthose which she approves of are to be considered as good: for when thisis admitted, and the dispute about words removed, that which they withreason embrace, and which we call honest, right, becoming, andsometimes include under the general name of virtue, appears so farsuperior to everything else that all other things which are looked uponas the gifts of fortune, or the good things of the body, seem triflingand insignificant; and no evil whatever, nor all the collective body ofevils together, appears to be compared to the evil of infamy. Wherefore, if, as you granted in the beginning, infamy is worse thanpain, pain is certainly nothing; for while it appears to you base andunmanly to groan, cry out, lament, or faint under pain; while youcherish notions of probity, dignity, honor, and, keeping your eye onthem, refrain yourself, pain will certainly yield to virtue, and, bythe influence of imagination, will lose its whole force. --For you musteither admit that there is no such thing as virtue, or you must despiseevery kind of pain. Will you allow of such a virtue as prudence, without which no virtue whatever can even be conceived? What, then?Will that suffer you to labor and take pains to no purpose? Willtemperance permit you to do anything to excess? Will it be possible forjustice to be maintained by one who through the force of pain discoverssecrets, or betrays his confederates, or deserts many duties of life?Will you act in a manner consistently with courage, and its attendants, greatness of soul, resolution, patience, and contempt for all worldlythings? Can you hear yourself called a great man when you liegrovelling, dejected, and deploring your condition with a lamentablevoice; no one would call you even a man while in such a condition. Youmust therefore either abandon all pretensions to courage, or else painmust be put out of the question. 

XIV. You know very well that, even though part of your Corinthianfurniture were gone, the remainder might be safe without that; but ifyou lose one virtue (though virtue in reality cannot be lost), stillif, I say, you should acknowledge that you were deficient in one, youwould be stripped of all. Can you, then, call yourself a brave man, ofa great soul, endued with patience and steadiness above the frowns offortune? or Philoctetes? for I choose to instance him, rather thanyourself, for he certainly was not a brave man, who lay in his bed, which was watered with his tears, Whose groans, bewailings, and whose bitter cries, With grief incessant rent the very skies. 

I do not deny pain to be pain--for were that the case, in what wouldcourage consist?--but I say it should be assuaged by patience, if therebe such a thing as patience: if there be no such thing, why do we speakso in praise of philosophy? or why do we glory in its name? Does painannoy us? Let it sting us to the heart: if you are without defensivearmor, bare your throat to it; but if you are secured by Vulcanianarmor, that is to say by resolution, resist it. Should you fail to doso, that guardian of your honor, your courage, will forsake and leaveyou. --By the laws of Lycurgus, and by those which were given to theCretans by Jupiter, or which Minos established under the direction ofJupiter, as the poets say, the youths of the State are trained by thepractice of hunting, running, enduring hunger and thirst, cold andheat. The boys at Sparta are scourged so at the altars that bloodfollows the lash in abundance; nay, sometimes, as I used to hear when Iwas there, they are whipped even to death; and yet not one of them wasever heard to cry out, or so much as groan. What, then? Shall men notbe able to bear what boys do? and shall custom have such great force, and reason none at all?

XV. There is some difference between labor and pain; they border uponone another, but still there is a certain difference between them. Labor is a certain exercise of the mind or body, in some employment orundertaking of serious trouble and importance; but pain is a sharpmotion in the body, disagreeable to our senses. --Both these feelings, the Greeks, whose language is more copious than ours, express by thecommon name of [Greek: Ponos]: therefore they call industrious menpainstaking, or, rather, fond of labor; we, more conveniently, callthem laborious; for laboring is one thing, and enduring pain another. You see, O Greece! your barrenness of words, sometimes, though youthink you are always so rich in them. I say, then, that there is adifference between laboring and being in pain. When Caius Marius had anoperation performed for a swelling in his thigh, he felt pain; when heheaded his troops in a very hot season, he labored. Yet these twofeelings bear some resemblance to one another; for the accustomingourselves to labor makes the endurance of pain more easy to us. And itwas because they were influenced by this reason that the founders ofthe Grecian form of government provided that the bodies of their youthshould be strengthened by labor, which custom the Spartans transferredeven to their women, who in other cities lived more delicately, keepingwithin the walls of their houses; but it was otherwise with theSpartans. 

 The Spartan women, with a manly air, Fatigues and dangers with their husbands share; They in fantastic sports have no delight, Partners with them in exercise and fight. 

And in these laborious exercises pain interferes sometimes. They arethrown down, receive blows, have bad falls, and are bruised, and thelabor itself produces a sort of callousness to pain. 

XVI. As to military service (I speak of our own, not of that of theSpartans, for they used to march slowly to the sound of the flute, andscarce a word of command was given without an anapæst), you may see, inthe first place, whence the very name of an army (_exercitus_[33]) isderived; and, secondly, how great the labor is of an army on its march:then consider that they carry more than a fortnight's provision, andwhatever else they may want; that they carry the burden of thestakes, [34] for as to shield, sword, or helmet, they look on them as nomore encumbrance than their own limbs, for they say that arms are thelimbs of a soldier, and those, indeed, they carry so commodiously that, when there is occasion, they throw down their burdens, and use theirarms as readily as their limbs. Why need I mention the exercises of thelegions? And how great the labor is which is undergone in the running, encounters, shouts! Hence it is that their minds are worked up to makeso light of wounds in action. Take a soldier of equal bravery, butundisciplined, and he will seem a woman. Why is it that there is thissensible difference between a raw recruit and a veteran soldier? Theage of the young soldiers is for the most part in their favor; but itis practice only that enables men to bear labor and despise wounds. Moreover, we often see, when the wounded are carried off the field, theraw, untried soldier, though but slightly wounded, cries out mostshamefully; but the more brave, experienced veteran only inquires forsome one to dress his wounds, and says, Patroclus, to thy aid I must appeal Ere worse ensue, my bleeding wounds to heal; The sons of Æsculapius are employ'd, No room for me, so many are annoy'd. 

XVII. This is certainly Eurypylus himself. What an experiencedman!--While his friend is continually enlarging on his misfortunes, youmay observe that he is so far from weeping that he even assigns areason why he should bear his wounds with patience. 

 Who at his enemy a stroke directs, His sword to light upon himself expects. 

Patroclus, I suppose, will lead him off to his chamber to bind up hiswounds, at least if he be a man: but not a word of that; he onlyinquires how the battle went:

 Say how the Argives bear themselves in fight?

And yet no words can show the truth as well as those, your deeds andvisible sufferings. 

 Peace! and my wounds bind up;

but though Eurypylus could bear these afflictions, Æsopus could not, Where Hector's fortune press'd our yielding troops;

and he explains the rest, though in pain. So unbounded is militaryglory in a brave man! Shall, then, a veteran soldier be able to behavein this manner, and shall a wise and learned man not be able? Surelythe latter might be able to bear pain better, and in no small degreeeither. At present, however, I am confining myself to what isengendered by practice and discipline. I am not yet come to speak ofreason and philosophy. You may often hear of old women living withoutvictuals for three or four days; but take away a wrestler's provisionsbut for one day, and he will implore the aid of Jupiter Olympius, thevery God for whom he exercises himself: he will cry out that he cannotendure it. Great is the force of custom! Sportsmen will continue wholenights in the snow; they will bear being almost frozen upon themountains. From practice boxers will not so much as utter a groan, however bruised by the cestus. But what do you think of those to whom avictory in the Olympic games seemed almost on a par with the ancientconsulships of the Roman people? What wounds will the gladiators bear, who are either barbarians, or the very dregs of mankind! How do they, who are trained to it, prefer being wounded to basely avoiding it! Howoften do they prove that they consider nothing but the givingsatisfaction to their masters or to the people! for when covered withwounds, they send to their masters to learn their pleasure: if it istheir will, they are ready to lie down and die. What gladiator, of evenmoderate reputation, ever gave a sigh? who ever turned pale? who everdisgraced himself either in the actual combat, or even when about todie? who that had been defeated ever drew in his neck to avoid thestroke of death? So great is the force of practice, deliberation, andcustom! Shall this, then, be done by

 A Samnite rascal, worthy of his trade;

and shall a man born to glory have so soft a part in his soul as not tobe able to fortify it by reason and reflection? The sight of thegladiators' combats is by some looked on as cruel and inhuman, and I donot know, as it is at present managed, but it may be so; but when theguilty fought, we might receive by our ears perhaps (but certainly byour eyes we could not) better training to harden us against pain anddeath. 

XVIII. I have now said enough about the effects of exercise, custom, and careful meditation. Proceed we now to consider the force of reason, unless you have something to reply to what has been said. 

_A. _ That I should interrupt you! By no means; for your discourse hasbrought me over to your opinion. Let the Stoics, then, think it theirbusiness to determine whether pain be an evil or not, while theyendeavor to show by some strained and trifling conclusions, which arenothing to the purpose, that pain is no evil. My opinion is, thatwhatever it is, it is not so great as it appears; and I say, that menare influenced to a great extent by some false representations andappearance of it, and that all which is really felt is capable of beingendured. Where shall I begin, then? Shall I superficially go over whatI said before, that my discourse may have a greater scope?

This, then, is agreed upon by all, and not only by learned men, butalso by the unlearned, that it becomes the brave and magnanimous--thosethat have patience and a spirit above this world--not to give way topain. Nor has there ever been any one who did not commend a man whobore it in this manner. That, then, which is expected from a brave man, and is commended when it is seen, it must surely be base in any one tobe afraid of at its approach, or not to bear when it comes. But I wouldhave you consider whether, as all the right affections of the soul areclassed under the name of virtues, the truth is that this is notproperly the name of them all, but that they all have their name fromthat leading virtue which is superior to all the rest: for the name"virtue" comes from _vir_, a man, and courage is the peculiardistinction of a man: and this virtue has two principal duties, todespise death and pain. We must, then, exert these, if we would be menof virtue, or, rather, if we would be men, because virtue (_virtus_)takes its very name from _vir_, man. 

XIX. You may inquire, perhaps, how? And such an inquiry is not amiss, for philosophy is ready with her assistance. Epicurus offers himself toyou, a man far from a bad--or, I should rather say, a very good man: headvises no more than he knows. "Despise pain, " says he. Who is it saiththis? Is it the same man who calls pain the greatest of all evils? Itis not, indeed, very consistent in him. Let us hear what he says: "Ifthe pain is excessive, it must needs be short. " I must have that overagain, for I do not apprehend what you mean exactly by "excessive" or"short. " That is excessive than which nothing can be greater; that isshort than which nothing is shorter. I do not regard the greatness ofany pain from which, by reason of the shortness of its continuance, Ishall be delivered almost before it reaches me. But if the pain be asgreat as that of Philoctetes, it will appear great indeed to me, butyet not the greatest that I am capable of bearing; for the pain isconfined to my foot. But my eye may pain me, I may have a pain in thehead, or sides, or lungs, or in every part of me. It is far, then, frombeing excessive. Therefore, says he, pain of a long continuance hasmore pleasure in it than uneasiness. Now, I cannot bring myself to sayso great a man talks nonsense; but I imagine he is laughing at us. Myopinion is that the greatest pain (I say the greatest, though it may beten atoms less than another) is not therefore short, because acute. Icould name to you a great many good men who have been tormented manyyears with the acutest pains of the gout. But this cautious man dothnot determine the measure of that greatness or of duration, so as toenable us to know what he calls excessive with regard to pain, or shortwith respect to its continuance. Let us pass him by, then, as one whosays just nothing at all; and let us force him to acknowledge, notwithstanding he might behave himself somewhat boldly under his colicand his strangury, that no remedy against pain can be had from him wholooks on pain as the greatest of all evils. We must apply, then, forrelief elsewhere, and nowhere better (if we seek for what is mostconsistent with itself) than to those who place the chief good inhonesty, and the greatest evil in infamy. You dare not so much asgroan, or discover the least uneasiness in their company, for virtueitself speaks to you through them. 

XX. Will you, when you may observe children at Lacedæmon, and young menat Olympia, and barbarians in the amphitheatre, receive the severestwounds, and bear them without once opening their mouths--will you, Isay, if any pain should by chance attack you, cry out like a woman?Will you not rather bear it with resolution and constancy? and not cry, It is intolerable; nature cannot bear it! I hear what you say: Boysbear this because they are led thereto by glory; some bear it throughshame, many through fear, and yet are we afraid that nature cannot bearwhat is borne by many, and in such different circumstances? Nature notonly bears it, but challenges it, for there is nothing with herpreferable, nothing which she desires more than credit, and reputation, and praise, and honor, and glory. I choose here to describe this onething under many names, and I have used many that you may have theclearer idea of it; for what I mean to say is, that whatever isdesirable of itself, proceeding from virtue, or placed in virtue, andcommendable on its own account (which I would rather agree to call theonly good than deny it to be the chief good) is what men should preferabove all things. And as we declare this to be the case with respect tohonesty, so we speak in the contrary manner of infamy; nothing is soodious, so detestable, nothing so unworthy of a man. And if you arethoroughly convinced of this (for, at the beginning of this discourse, you allowed that there appeared to you more evil in infamy than inpain), it follows that you ought to have the command over yourself, though I scarcely know how this expression may seem an accurate one, which appears to represent man as made up of two natures, so that oneshould be in command and the other be subject to it. 

XXI. Yet this division does not proceed from ignorance; for the souladmits of a twofold division, one of which partakes of reason, theother is without it. When, therefore, we are ordered to give a law toourselves, the meaning is, that reason should restrain our rashness. There is in the soul of every man something naturally soft, low, enervated in a manner, and languid. Were there nothing besides this, men would be the greatest of monsters; but there is present to everyman reason, which presides over and gives laws to all; which, byimproving itself, and making continual advances, becomes perfectvirtue. It behooves a man, then, to take care that reason shall havethe command over that part which is bound to practise obedience. Inwhat manner? you will say. Why, as a master has over his slave, ageneral over his army, a father over his son. If that part of the soulwhich I have called soft behaves disgracefully, if it gives itself upto lamentations and womanish tears, then let it be restrained, andcommitted to the care of friends and relations, for we often see thosepersons brought to order by shame whom no reasons can influence. Therefore, we should confine those feelings, like our servants, in safecustody, and almost with chains. But those who have more resolution, and yet are not utterly immovable, we should encourage with ourexhortations, as we would good soldiers, to recollect themselves, andmaintain their honor. That wisest man of all Greece, in the Niptræ, does not lament too much over his wounds, or, rather, he is moderate inhis grief:

 Move slow, my friends; your hasty speed refrain, Lest by your motion you increase my pain. 

Pacuvius is better in this than Sophocles, for in the one Ulyssesbemoans his wounds too vehemently; for the very people who carried himafter he was wounded, though his grief was moderate, yet, consideringthe dignity of the man, did not scruple to say, And thou, Ulysses, long to war inured, Thy wounds, though great, too feebly hast endured. 

The wise poet understood that custom was no contemptible instructor howto bear pain. But the same hero complains with more decency, though ingreat pain:

 Assist, support me, never leave me so; Unbind my wounds, oh! execrable woe!

He begins to give way, but instantly checks himself:

 Away! begone! but cover first the sore; For your rude hands but make my pains the more. 

Do you observe how he constrains himself? not that his bodily painswere less, but because he checks the anguish of his mind. Therefore, inthe conclusion of the Niptræ, he blames others, even when he himself isdying:

 Complaints of fortune may become the man, None but a woman will thus weeping stand. 

And so that soft place in his soul obeys his reason, just as an abashedsoldier does his stern commander. 

XXII. The man, then, in whom absolute wisdom exists (such a man, indeed, we have never as yet seen, but the philosophers have describedin their writings what sort of man he will be, if he should exist);such a man, or at least that perfect and absolute reason which existsin him, will have the same authority over the inferior part as a goodparent has over his dutiful children: he will bring it to obey his nodwithout any trouble or difficulty. He will rouse himself, prepare andarm himself, to oppose pain as he would an enemy. If you inquire whatarms he will provide himself with, they will be contention, encouragement, discourse with himself. He will say thus to himself:Take care that you are guilty of nothing base, languid, or unmanly. Hewill turn over in his mind all the different kinds of honor. Zeno ofElea will occur to him, who suffered everything rather than betray hisconfederates in the design of putting an end to the tyranny. He willreflect on Anaxarchus, the pupil of Democritus, who, having fallen intothe hands of Nicocreon, King of Cyprus, without the least entreaty formercy or refusal, submitted to every kind of torture. Calanus theIndian will occur to him, an ignorant man and a barbarian, born at thefoot of Mount Caucasus, who committed himself to the flames by his ownfree, voluntary act. But we, if we have the toothache, or a pain in thefoot, or if the body be anyways affected, cannot bear it. For oursentiments of pain as well as pleasure are so trifling and effeminate, we are so enervated and relaxed by luxuries, that we cannot bear thesting of a bee without crying out. But Caius Marius, a plaincountryman, but of a manly soul, when he had an operation performed onhim, as I mentioned above, at first refused to be tied down; and he isthe first instance of any one's having had an operation performed onhim without being tied down. Why, then, did others bear it afterward?Why, from the force of example. You see, then, that pain exists more inopinion than in nature; and yet the same Marius gave a proof that thereis something very sharp in pain for he would not submit to have theother thigh cut. So that he bore his pain with resolution as a man;but, like a reasonable person, he was not willing to undergo anygreater pain without some necessary reason. The whole, then, consistsin this--that you should have command over yourself. I have alreadytold you what kind of command this is; and by considering what is mostconsistent with patience, fortitude, and greatness of soul, a man notonly restrains himself, but, somehow or other, mitigates even painitself. 

XXIII. Even as in a battle the dastardly and timorous soldier throwsaway his shield on the first appearance of an enemy, and runs as fastas he can, and on that account loses his life sometimes, though he hasnever received even one wound, when he who stands his ground hasnothing of the sort happen to him, so they who cannot bear theappearance of pain throw themselves away, and give themselves up toaffliction and dismay. But they that oppose it, often come off morethan a match for it. For the body has a certain resemblance to thesoul: as burdens are more easily borne the more the body is exerted, while they crush us if we give way, so the soul by exerting itselfresists the whole weight that would oppress it; but if it yields, it isso pressed that it cannot support itself. And if we consider thingstruly, the soul should exert itself in every pursuit, for that is theonly security for its doing its duty. But this should be principallyregarded in pain, that we must not do anything timidly, or dastardly, or basely, or slavishly, or effeminately, and, above all things, wemust dismiss and avoid that Philoctetean sort of outcry. A man isallowed sometimes to groan, but yet seldom; but it is not permissibleeven in a woman to howl; for such a noise as this is forbidden, by thetwelve tables, to be used even at funerals. Nor does a wise or braveman ever groan, unless when he exerts himself to give his resolutiongreater force, as they who run in the stadium make as much noise asthey can. The wrestlers, too, do the same when they are training; andthe boxers, when they aim a blow with the cestus at their adversary, give a groan, not because they are in pain, or from a sinking of theirspirits, but because their whole body is put upon the stretch by thethrowing-out of these groans, and the blow comes the stronger. 

XXIV. What! they who would speak louder than ordinary are theysatisfied with working their jaws, sides, or tongue or stretching thecommon organs of speech and utterance? The whole body and every muscleis at full stretch if I may be allowed the expression; every nerve isexerted to assist their voice. I have actually seen the knees of MarcusAntonius touch the ground when he was speaking with vehemence forhimself, with relation to the Varian law. For, as the engines you throwstones or darts with throw them out with the greater force the morethey are strained and drawn back; so it is in speaking, running, orboxing--the more people strain themselves, the greater their force. Since, therefore, this exertion has so much influence--if in a momentof pain groans help to strengthen the mind, let us use them; but ifthey be groans of lamentation, if they be the expression of weakness orabjectness, or unmanly weeping, then I should scarcely call him a manwho yielded to them. For even supposing that such groaning could giveany ease, it still should be considered whether it were consistent witha brave and resolute man. But if it does not ease our pain, why shouldwe debase ourselves to no purpose? For what is more unbecoming in a manthan to cry like a woman? But this precept which is laid down withrespect to pain is not confined to it. We should apply this exertion ofthe soul to everything else. Is anger inflamed? is lust excited? wemust have recourse to the same citadel, and apply to the same arms. Butsince it is pain which we are at present discussing, we will let theother subjects alone. To bear pain, then, sedately and calmly, it is ofgreat use to consider with all our soul, as the saying is, how noble itis to do so, for we are naturally desirous (as I said before, but itcannot be too often repeated) and very much inclined to what ishonorable, of which, if we discover but the least glimpse, there isnothing which we are not prepared to undergo and suffer to attain it. From this impulse of our minds, this desire for genuine glory andhonorable conduct, it is that such dangers are supported in war, andthat brave men are not sensible of their wounds in action, or, if theyare sensible of them, prefer death to the departing but the least stepfrom their honor. The Decii saw the shining swords of their enemieswhen they were rushing into the battle. But the honorable character andthe glory of the death which they were seeking made all fear of deathof little weight. Do you imagine that Epaminondas groaned when heperceived that his life was flowing out with his blood? No; for he lefthis country triumphing over the Lacedæmonians, whereas he had found itin subjection to them. These are the comforts, these are the thingsthat assuage the greatest pain. 

XXV. You may ask, How the case is in peace? What is to be done at home?How we are to behave in bed? You bring me back to the philosophers, whoseldom go to war. Among these, Dionysius of Heraclea, a man certainlyof no resolution, having learned fortitude of Zeno, quitted it on beingin pain; for, being tormented with a pain in his kidneys, in bewailinghimself he cried out that those things were false which he had formerlyconceived of pain. And when his fellow-disciple, Cleanthes, asked himwhy he had changed his opinion, he answered, "That the case of any manwho had applied so much time to philosophy, and yet was unable to bearpain, might be a sufficient proof that pain is an evil; that he himselfhad spent many years at philosophy, and yet could not bear pain: itfollowed, therefore, that pain was an evil. " It is reported thatCleanthes on that struck his foot on the ground, and repeated a verseout of the Epigonæ:

 Amphiaraus, hear'st thou this below?

He meant Zeno: he was sorry the other had degenerated from him. 

But it was not so with our friend Posidonius, whom I have often seenmyself; and I will tell you what Pompey used to say of him: that whenhe came to Rhodes, after his departure from Syria, he had a greatdesire to hear Posidonius, but was informed that he was very ill of asevere fit of the gout; yet he had great inclination to pay a visit toso famous a philosopher. Accordingly, when he had seen him, and paidhis compliments, and had spoken with great respect of him, he said hewas very sorry that he could not hear him lecture. "But indeed youmay, " replied the other, "nor will I suffer any bodily pain to occasionso great a man to visit me in vain. " On this Pompey relates that, as helay on his bed, he disputed with great dignity and fluency on this verysubject: that nothing was good but what was honest; and that in hisparoxysms he would often say, "Pain, it is to no purpose;notwithstanding you are troublesome, I will never acknowledge you anevil. " And in general all celebrated and notorious afflictions becomeendurable by disregarding them. 

XXVI. Do we not observe that where those exercises called gymnastic arein esteem, those who enter the lists never concern themselves aboutdangers? that where the praise of riding and hunting is highlyesteemed, they who practice these arts decline no pain? What shall Isay of our own ambitious pursuits or desire of honors? What fire havenot candidates run through to gain a single vote? Therefore Africanushad always in his hands Xenophon, the pupil of Socrates, beingparticularly pleased with his saying, that the same labors were notequally heavy to the general and to the common man, because the honoritself made the labor lighter to the general. But yet, so it happens, that even with the illiterate vulgar an idea of honor is of greatinfluence, though they cannot understand what it is. They are led byreport and common opinion to look on that as honorable which has thegeneral voice. Not that I would have you, should the multitude be everso fond of you, rely on their judgment, nor approve of everything whichthey think right: you must use your own judgment. If you are satisfiedwith yourself when you have approved of what is right, you will notonly have the mastery over yourself (which I recommended to you justnow), but over everybody, and everything. Lay this down, then, as arule, that a great capacity, and lofty elevation of soul, whichdistinguishes itself most by despising and looking down with contempton pain, is the most excellent of all things, and the more so if itdoes not depend on the people and does not aim at applause, but derivesits satisfaction from itself. Besides, to me, indeed, everything seemsthe more commendable the less the people are courted, and the fewereyes there are to see it. Not that you should avoid the public, forevery generous action loves the public view; yet no theatre for virtueis equal to a consciousness of it. 

XXVII. And let this be principally considered: that this bearing ofpain, which I have often said is to be strengthened by an exertion ofthe soul, should be the same in everything. For you meet with many who, through a desire of victory, or for glory, or to maintain their rights, or their liberty, have boldly received wounds, and borne themselves upunder them; and yet those very same persons, by relaxing thatintenseness of their minds, were unequal to bearing the pain of adisease; for they did not support themselves under their formersufferings by reason or philosophy, but by inclination and glory. Therefore some barbarians and savage people are able to fight verystoutly with the sword, but cannot bear sickness like men; but theGrecians, men of no great courage, but as wise as human nature willadmit of, cannot look an enemy in the face, yet the same will bear tobe visited with sickness tolerably, and with a sufficiently manlyspirit; and the Cimbrians and Celtiberians are very alert in battle, but bemoan themselves in sickness. For nothing can be consistent whichhas not reason for its foundation. But when you see those who are ledby inclination or opinion, not retarded by pain in their pursuits, norhindered by it from succeeding in them, you may conclude, either thatpain is no evil, or that, notwithstanding you may choose to call anevil whatever is disagreeable and contrary to nature, yet it is so verytrifling an evil that it may so effectually be got the better of byvirtue as quite to disappear. And I would have you think of this nightand day; for this argument will spread itself, and take up more roomsome time or other, and not be confined to pain alone; for if themotives to all our actions are to avoid disgrace and acquire honor, wemay not only despise the stings of pain, but the storms of fortune, especially if we have recourse to that retreat which was pointed out inour yesterday's discussion; for, as if some God had advised a man whowas pursued by pirates to throw himself overboard, saying, "There issomething at hand to receive you; either a dolphin will take you up, asit did Arion of Methymna; or those horses sent by Neptune to Pelops(who are said to have carried chariots so rapidly as to be borne up bythe waves) will receive you, and convey you wherever you please. Castaway all fear. " So, though your pains be ever so sharp anddisagreeable, if the case is not such that it is worth your while toendure them, you see whither you may betake yourself. I think this willdo for the present. But perhaps you still abide by your opinion. 

_A. _ Not in the least, indeed; and I hope I am freed by these two days'discourses from the fear of two things that I greatly dreaded. 

_M. _ To-morrow, then, for rhetoric, as we were saying. But I see wemust not drop our philosophy. 

_A. _ No, indeed; we will have the one in the forenoon, and this at theusual time. 

_M. _ It shall be so, and I will comply with your very laudableinclinations. 

 * * * * *

BOOK III. 

ON GRIEF OF MIND. 

I. What reason shall I assign, O Brutus, why, as we consist of mind andbody, the art of curing and preserving the body should be so muchsought after, and the invention of it, as being so useful, should beascribed to the immortal Gods; but the medicine of the mind should nothave been so much the object of inquiry while it was unknown, nor somuch attended to and cultivated after its discovery, nor so wellreceived or approved of by some, and accounted actually disagreeable, and looked upon with an envious eye by many? Is it because we, by meansof the mind, judge of the pains and disorders of the body, but do not, by means of the body, arrive at any perception of the disorders of themind? Hence it comes that the mind only judges of itself when that veryfaculty by which it is judged is in a bad state. Had nature given usfaculties for discerning and viewing herself, and could we go throughlife by keeping our eye on her--our best guide--there would be noreason certainly why any one should be in want of philosophy orlearning; but, as it is, she has furnished us only with some feeblerays of light, which we immediately extinguish so completely by evilhabits and erroneous opinions that the light of nature is nowherevisible. The seeds of virtues are natural to our constitutions, and, were they suffered to come to maturity, would naturally conduct us to ahappy life; but now, as soon as we are born and received into theworld, we are instantly familiarized with all kinds of depravity andperversity of opinions; so that we may be said almost to suck in errorwith our nurse's milk. When we return to our parents, and are put intothe hands of tutors and governors, we are imbued with so many errorsthat truth gives place to falsehood, and nature herself to establishedopinion. 

II. To these we may add the poets; who, on account of the appearancethey exhibit of learning and wisdom, are heard, read, and got by heart, and make a deep impression on our minds. But when to these are addedthe people, who are, as it were, one great body of instructors, and themultitude, who declare unanimously for what is wrong, then are wealtogether overwhelmed with bad opinions, and revolt entirely fromnature; so that they seem to deprive us of our best guide who havedecided that there is nothing better for man, nothing more worthy ofbeing desired by him, nothing more excellent, than honors and commands, and a high reputation with the people; which indeed every excellent manaims at; but while he pursues that only true honor which nature has inview above all other objects, he finds himself busied in arranttrifles, and in pursuit of no conspicuous form of virtue, but only someshadowy representation of glory. For glory is a real and expresssubstance, not a mere shadow. It consists in the united praise of goodmen, the free voice of those who form a true judgment of pre-eminentvirtue; it is, as it were, the very echo of virtue; and being generallythe attendant on laudable actions, should not be slighted by good men. But popular fame, which would pretend to imitate it, is hasty andinconsiderate, and generally commends wicked and immoral actions, andthrows discredit upon the appearance and beauty of honesty by assuminga resemblance of it. And it is owing to their not being able todiscover the difference between them that some men ignorant of realexcellence, and in what it consists, have been the destruction of theircountry and of themselves. And thus the best men have erred, not somuch in their intentions as by a mistaken conduct. What? is no cure tobe attempted to be applied to those who are carried away by the love ofmoney, or the lust of pleasures, by which they are rendered littleshort of madmen, which is the case of all weak people? or is it becausethe disorders of the mind are less dangerous than those of the body? orbecause the body will admit of a cure, while there is no medicinewhatever for the mind?

III. But there are more disorders of the mind than of the body, andthey are of a more dangerous nature; for these very disorders are themore offensive because they belong to the mind and disturb it; and themind, when disordered, is, as Ennius says, in a constant error: it canneither bear nor endure anything, and is under the perpetual influenceof desires. Now, what disorders can be worse to the body than these twodistempers of the mind (for I overlook others), weakness and desire?But how, indeed, can it be maintained that the mind cannot prescribefor itself, when she it is who has invented the medicines for the body, when, with regard to bodily cures, constitution and nature have a greatshare, nor do all who suffer themselves to be cured find that effectinstantly; but those minds which are disposed to be cured, and submitto the precepts of the wise, may undoubtedly recover a healthy state?Philosophy is certainly the medicine of the soul, whose assistance wedo not seek from abroad, as in bodily disorders, but we ourselves arebound to exert our utmost energy and power in order to effect our cure. But as to philosophy in general, I have, I think, in my Hortensius, sufficiently spoken of the credit and attention which it deserves:since that, indeed, I have been continually either disputing or writingon its most material branches; and I have laid down in these books allthe discussions which took place between myself and my particularfriends at my Tusculan villa. But as I have spoken in the two former ofpain and death, this book shall be devoted to the account of the thirdday of our disputations. 

We came down into the Academy when the day was already decliningtowards afternoon, and I asked one of those who were present to proposea subject for us to discourse on; and then the business was carried onin this manner:

IV. _A. _ My opinion is, that a wise man is subject to grief. 

_M. _ What, and to the other perturbations of mind, as fears, lusts, anger? For these are pretty much like what the Greeks call [Greek:pathê]. I might call them diseases, and that would be a literaltranslation, but it is not agreeable to our way of speaking. For envy, delight, and pleasure are all called by the Greeks diseases, beingaffections of the mind not in subordination to reason; but we, I think, are right in calling the same motions of a disturbed soulperturbations, and in very seldom using the term diseases; though, perhaps, it appears otherwise to you. 

_A. _ I am of your opinion. 

_M. _ And do you think a wise man subject to these?

_A. _ Entirely, I think. 

_M. _ Then that boasted wisdom is but of small account, if it differs solittle from madness?

_A. _ What? does every commotion of the mind seem to you to be madness?

_M. _ Not to me only; but I apprehend, though I have often beensurprised at it, that it appeared so to our ancestors many ages beforeSocrates; from whom is derived all that philosophy which relates tolife and morals. 

_A. _ How so?

_M. _ Because the name madness[35] implies a sickness of the mind anddisease; that is to say, an unsoundness and an unhealthiness of mind, which they call madness. But the philosophers call all perturbations ofthe soul diseases, and their opinion is that no fool is ever free fromthese; but all that are diseased are unsound; and the minds of allfools are diseased; therefore all fools are mad. For they held thatsoundness of the mind depends on a certain tranquillity and steadiness;and a mind which was destitute of these qualities they called insane, because soundness was inconsistent with a perturbed mind just as muchas with a disordered body. 

V. Nor were they less ingenious in calling the state of the soul devoidof the light of the mind, "a being out of one's mind, " "a being besideone's self. " From whence we may understand that they who gave thesenames to things were of the same opinion with Socrates, that all sillypeople were unsound, which the Stoics have carefully preserved as beingderived from him; for whatever mind is distempered (and, as I just nowsaid, the philosophers call all perturbed motions of the minddistempers) is no more sound than a body is when in a fit of sickness. Hence it is that wisdom is the soundness of the mind, folly a sort ofunsoundness, which is insanity, or a being out of one's mind: and theseare much better expressed by the Latin words than the Greek, which youwill find the case also in many other topics. But we will discuss thatpoint elsewhere: let us now attend to our present subject. The verymeaning of the word describes the whole thing about which we areinquiring, both as to its substance and character. For we mustnecessarily understand by "sound" those whose minds are under noperturbation from any motion as if it were a disease. They who aredifferently affected we must necessarily call "unsound. " So thatnothing is better than what is usual in Latin, to say that they who arerun away with by their lust or anger have quitted the command overthemselves; though anger includes lust, for anger is defined to be thelust of revenge. They, then, who are said not to be masters ofthemselves, are said to be so because they are not under the governmentof reason, to which is assigned by nature the power over the wholesoul. Why the Greeks should call this mania, I do not easily apprehend;but we define it much better than they, for we distinguish this madness(_insania_), which, being allied to folly, is more extensive, from whatwe call _furor_, or raving. The Greeks, indeed, would do so too, butthey have no one word that will express it: what we call _furor_, theycall [Greek: melancholia], as if the reason were affected only by ablack bile, and not disturbed as often by a violent rage, or fear, orgrief. Thus we say Athamas, Alcmæon, Ajax, and Orestes were raving(_furere_); because a person affected in this manner was not allowed bythe Twelve Tables to have the management of his own affairs; thereforethe words are not, if he is mad (_insanus_), but if he begins to beraving (_furiosus_). For they looked upon madness to be an unsettledhumor that proceeded from not being of sound mind; yet such a personmight perform his ordinary duties, and discharge the usual andcustomary requirements of life: but they considered one that was ravingas afflicted with a total blindness of the mind, which, notwithstandingit is allowed to be greater than madness, is nevertheless of such anature that a wise man may be subject to raving (_furor_), but cannotpossibly be afflicted by insanity (_insania_). But this is anotherquestion: let us now return to our original subject. 

VI. I think you said that it was your opinion that a wise man wasliable to grief. 

_A. _ And so, indeed, I think. 

_M. _ It is natural enough to think so, for we are not the offspring offlints; but we have by nature something soft and tender in our souls, which may be put into a violent motion by grief, as by a storm; nor didthat Crantor, who was one of the most distinguished men that ourAcademy has ever produced, say this amiss: "I am by no means of theiropinion who talk so much in praise of I know not what insensibility, which neither can exist, nor ought to exist. "I would choose, " says he, "never to be ill; but should I be so, still I should choose to retainmy sensation, whether there was to be an amputation or any otherseparation of anything from my body. For that insensibility cannot bebut at the expense of some unnatural ferocity of mind, or stupor ofbody. " But let us consider whether to talk in this manner be notallowing that we are weak, and yielding to our softness. Notwithstanding, let us be hardy enough, not only to lop off every armof our miseries, but even to pluck up every fibre of their roots. Yetstill something, perhaps, may be left behind, so deep does folly strikeits roots: but whatever may be left it will be no more than isnecessary. But let us be persuaded of this, that unless the mind be ina sound state, which philosophy alone can effect, there can be no endof our miseries. Wherefore, as we began, let us submit ourselves to itfor a cure; we shall be cured if we choose to be. I shall advancesomething further. I shall not treat of grief alone, though that indeedis the principal thing; but, as I originally proposed, of everyperturbation of the mind, as I termed it; disorder, as the Greeks callit: and first, with your leave, I shall treat it in the manner of theStoics, whose method is to reduce their arguments into a very smallspace; afterward I shall enlarge more in my own way. 

VII. A man of courage is also full of faith. I do not use the wordconfident, because, owing to an erroneous custom of speaking, that wordhas come to be used in a bad sense, though it is derived fromconfiding, which is commendable. But he who is full of faith iscertainly under no fear; for there is an inconsistency between faithand fear. Now, whoever is subject to grief is subject to fear; forwhatever things we grieve at when present we dread when hanging over usand approaching. Thus it comes about that grief is inconsistent withcourage: it is very probable, therefore, that whoever is subject togrief is also liable to fear, and to a broken kind of spirits andsinking. Now, whenever these befall a man, he is in a servile state, and must own that he is overpowered; for whoever admits these feelings, must admit timidity and cowardice. But these cannot enter into the mindof a man of courage; neither, therefore, can grief: but the man ofcourage is the only wise man; therefore grief cannot befall the wiseman. It is, besides, necessary that whoever is brave should be a man ofgreat soul; that whoever is a man of a great soul should be invincible;whoever is invincible looks down with contempt on all things here, andconsiders them, beneath him. But no one can despise those things onaccount of which he may be affected with grief; from whence it followsthat a wise man is never affected with grief: for all wise men arebrave; therefore a wise man is not subject to grief. And as the eye, when disordered, is not in a good condition for performing its officeproperly; and as the other parts, and the whole body itself, whenunsettled, cannot perform their office and business; so the mind, whendisordered, is but ill-fitted to perform its duty. The office of themind is to use its reason well; but the mind of a wise man is always incondition to make the best use of his reason, and therefore is neverout of order. But grief is a disorder of the mind; therefore a wise manwill be always free from it. 

VIII. And from these considerations we may get at a very probabledefinition of the temperate man, whom the Greeks call [Greek: sôphrôn]:and they call that virtue [Greek: sôphrosynên], which I at one timecall temperance, at another time moderation, and sometimes evenmodesty; but I do not know whether that virtue may not be properlycalled frugality, which has a more confined meaning with the Greeks;for they call frugal men [Greek: chrêsimous], which implies only thatthey are useful; but our name has a more extensive meaning: for allabstinence, all innocency (which the Greeks have no ordinary name for, though they might use the word [Greek: ablabeia], for innocency is thatdisposition of mind which would offend no one) and several othervirtues are comprehended under frugality; but if this quality were ofless importance, and confined in as small a compass as some imagine, the surname of Piso[36] would not have been in so great esteem. But aswe allow him not the name of a frugal man (_frugi_), who either quitshis post through fear, which is cowardice; or who reserves to his ownuse what was privately committed to his keeping, which is injustice; orwho fails in his military undertakings through rashness, which isfolly--for that reason the word frugality takes in these three virtuesof fortitude, justice, and prudence, though it is indeed common to allvirtues, for they are all connected and knit together. Let us allow, then, frugality itself to be another and fourth virtue; for itspeculiar property seems to be, to govern and appease all tendencies totoo eager a desire after anything, to restrain lust, and to preserve adecent steadiness in everything. The vice in contrast to this is calledprodigality (_nequitia_). Frugality, I imagine, is derived from theword _fruge_, the best thing which the earth produces; _nequitia_ isderived (though this is perhaps rather more strained; still, let us tryit; we shall only be thought to have been trifling if there is nothingin what we say) from the fact of everything being to no purpose(_nequicquam_) in such a man; from which circumstance he is called also_Nihil_, nothing. Whoever is frugal, then, or, if it is more agreeableto you, whoever is moderate and temperate, such a one must of course beconsistent; whoever is consistent, must be quiet; the quiet man must befree from all perturbation, therefore from grief likewise: and theseare the properties of a wise man; therefore a wise man must be freefrom grief. 

IX. So that Dionysius of Heraclea is right when, upon this complaint ofAchilles in Homer, Well hast thou spoke, but at the tyrant's name My rage rekindles, and my soul's in flame: 'Tis just resentment, and becomes the brave, Disgraced, dishonor'd like the vilest slave[37]--

he reasons thus: Is the hand as it should be, when it is affected witha swelling? or is it possible for any other member of the body, whenswollen or enlarged, to be in any other than a disordered state? Mustnot the mind, then, when it is puffed up, or distended, be out oforder? But the mind of a wise man is always free from every kind ofdisorder: it never swells, never is puffed up; but the mind when inanger is in a different state. A wise man, therefore, is never angry;for when he is angry, he lusts after something; for whoever is angrynaturally has a longing desire to give all the pain he can to theperson who he thinks has injured him; and whoever has this earnestdesire must necessarily be much pleased with the accomplishment of hiswishes; hence he is delighted with his neighbor's misery; and as a wiseman is not capable of such feelings as these, he is therefore notcapable of anger. But should a wise man be subject to grief, he maylikewise be subject to anger; for as he is free from anger, he mustlikewise be free from grief. Again, could a wise man be subject togrief, he might also be liable to pity, or even might be open to adisposition towards envy (_invidentia_); I do not say to envy(_invidia_), for that can only exist by the very act of envying: but wemay fairly form the word _invidentia_ from _invidendo_, and so avoidthe doubtful name _invidia;_ for this word is probably derived from_in_ and _video_, looking too closely into another's fortune; as it issaid in the Melanippus, Who envies me the flower of my children?

where the Latin is _invidit florem. _ It may appear not good Latin, butit is very well put by Accius; for as _video_ governs an accusativecase, so it is more correct to say _invideo florem_ than _flori. _ Weare debarred from saying so by common usage. The poet stood in his ownright, and expressed himself with more freedom. 

X. Therefore compassion and envy are consistent in the same man; forwhoever is uneasy at any one's adversity is also uneasy at another'sprosperity: as Theophrastus, while he laments the death of hiscompanion Callisthenes, is at the same time disturbed at the success ofAlexander; and therefore he says that Callisthenes met with man of thegreatest power and good fortune, but one who did not know how to makeuse of his good fortune. And as pity is an uneasiness which arises fromthe misfortunes of another, so envy is an uneasiness that proceeds fromthe good success of another: therefore whoever is capable of pity iscapable of envy. But a wise man is incapable of envy, and consequentlyincapable of pity. But were a wise man used to grieve, to pity alsowould be familiar to him; therefore to grieve is a feeling which cannotaffect a wise man. Now, though these reasonings of the Stoics, andtheir conclusions, are rather strained and distorted, and ought to beexpressed in a less stringent and narrow manner, yet great stress is tobe laid on the opinions of those men who have a peculiarly bold andmanly turn of thought and sentiment. For our friends the Peripatetics, notwithstanding all their erudition, gravity, and fluency of language, do not satisfy me about the moderation of these disorders and diseasesof the soul which they insist upon; for every evil, though moderate, isin its nature great. But our object is to make out that the wise man isfree from all evil; for as the body is unsound if it is ever soslightly affected, so the mind under any moderate disorder loses itssoundness; therefore the Romans have, with their usual accuracy ofexpression, called trouble, and anguish, and vexation, on account ofthe analogy between a troubled mind and a diseased body, disorders. TheGreeks call all perturbation of mind by pretty nearly the same name;for they name every turbid motion of the soul [Greek: pathos], that isto say, a distemper. But we have given them a more proper name; for adisorder of the mind is very like a disease of the body. But lust doesnot resemble sickness; neither does immoderate joy, which is an elatedand exulting pleasure of the mind. Fear, too, is not very like adistemper, though it is akin to grief of mind, but properly, as is alsothe case with sickness of the body, so too sickness of mind has no nameseparated from pain. And therefore I must explain the origin of thispain, that is to say, the cause that occasions this grief in the mind, as if it were a sickness of the body. For as physicians think they havefound out the cure when they have discovered the cause of thedistemper, so we shall discover the method of curing melancholy whenthe cause of it is found out. 

XI. The whole cause, then, is in opinion; and this observation appliesnot to this grief alone, but to every other disorder of the mind, whichare of four sorts, but consisting of many parts. For as every disorderor perturbation is a motion of the mind, either devoid of reason, or indespite of reason, or in disobedience to reason, and as that motion isexcited by an opinion of either good or evil; these four perturbationsare divided equally into two parts: for two of them proceed from anopinion of good, one of which is an exulting pleasure, that is to say, a joy elated beyond measure, arising from an opinion of some presentgreat good; the other is a desire which may fairly be called even alust, and is an immoderate inclination after some conceived great goodwithout any obedience to reason. Therefore these two kinds, theexulting pleasure and the lust, have their rise from an opinion ofgood, as the other two, fear and grief, have from an opinion of evil. For fear is an opinion of some great evil impending over us, and griefis an opinion of some great evil present; and, indeed, it is a freshlyconceived opinion of an evil so great that to grieve at it seems right:it is of that kind that he who is uneasy at it thinks he has goodreason to be so. Now we should exert, our utmost efforts to opposethese perturbations--which are, as it were, so many furies let looseupon us and urged on by folly--if we are desirous to pass this share oflife that is allotted to us with ease and satisfaction. But of theother feelings I shall speak elsewhere: our business at present is todrive away grief if we can, for that shall be the object of our presentdiscussion, since you have said that it was your opinion that a wiseman might be subject to grief, which I can by no means allow of; for itis a frightful, miserable, and detestable thing, which we should flyfrom with our utmost efforts--with all our sails and oars, as I maysay. 

XII. That descendant of Tantalus, how does he appear to you--he whosprung from Pelops, who formerly stole Hippodamia from herfather-in-law, King Oenomaus, and married her by force?--he who wasdescended from Jupiter himself, how broken-hearted and dispirited doeshe not seem!

 Stand off, my friends, nor come within my shade, That no pollutions your sound hearts pervade, So foul a stain my body doth partake. 

Will you condemn yourself, Thyestes, and deprive yourself of life, onaccount of the greatness of another's crime? What do you think of thatson of Phoebus? Do you not look upon him as unworthy of his ownfather's light?

 Hollow his eyes, his body worn away, His furrow'd cheeks his frequent tears betray; His beard neglected, and his hoary hairs Rough and uncomb'd, bespeak his bitter cares. 

O foolish Æetes! these are evils which you yourself have been the causeof, and are not occasioned by any accidents with which chance hasvisited you; and you behaved as you did, even after you had been inuredto your distress, and after the first swelling of the mind hadsubsided!--whereas grief consists (as I shall show) in the notion ofsome recent evil--but your grief, it is very plain, proceeded from theloss of your kingdom, not of your daughter, for you hated her, andperhaps with reason, but you could not calmly bear to part with yourkingdom. But surely it is an impudent grief which preys upon a man fornot being able to command those that are free. Dionysius, it is true, the tyrant of Syracuse, when driven from his country, taught a schoolat Corinth; so incapable was he of living without some authority. Butwhat could be more impudent than Tarquin, who made war upon those whocould not bear his tyranny; and, when he could not recover his kingdomby the aid of the forces of the Veientians and the Latins, is said tohave betaken himself to Cuma, and to have died in that city of old ageand grief!

XIII. Do you, then, think that it can befall a wise man to be oppressedwith grief, that is to say, with misery? for, as all perturbation ismisery, grief is the rack itself. Lust is attended with heat, exultingjoy with levity, fear with meanness, but grief with something greaterthan these; it consumes, torments, afflicts, and disgraces a man; ittears him, preys upon his mind, and utterly destroys him: if we do notso divest ourselves of it as to throw it completely off, we cannot befree from misery. And it is clear that there must be grief whereanything has the appearance of a present sore and oppressing evil. Epicurus is of opinion that grief arises naturally from the imaginationof any evil; so that whosoever is eye-witness of any great misfortune, if he conceives that the like may possibly befall himself, becomes sadinstantly from such an idea. The Cyrenaics think that grief is notengendered by every kind of evil, but only by unexpected, unforeseenevil; and that circumstance is, indeed, of no small effect on theheightening of grief; for whatsoever comes of a sudden appears moreformidable. Hence these lines are deservedly commended:

 I knew my son, when first he drew his breath, Destined by fate to an untimely death; And when I sent him to defend the Greeks, War was his business, not your sportive freaks. 

XIV. Therefore, this ruminating beforehand upon future evils which yousee at a distance makes their approach more tolerable; and on thisaccount what Euripides makes Theseus say is much commended. You willgive me leave to translate them, as is usual with me:

 I treasured up what some learn'd sage did tell, And on my future misery did dwell; I thought of bitter death, of being drove Far from my home by exile, and I strove With every evil to possess my mind, That, when they came, I the less care might find. [38]

But Euripides says that of himself, which Theseus said he had heardfrom some learned man, for the poet had been a pupil of Anaxagoras, who, as they relate, on hearing of the death of his son, said, "I knewthat my son was mortal;" which speech seems to intimate that suchthings afflict those men who have not thought on them before. Therefore, there is no doubt but that all those things which areconsidered evils are the heavier from not being foreseen. Though, notwithstanding this is not the only circumstance which occasions thegreatest grief, still, as the mind, by foreseeing and preparing for it, has great power to make all grief the less, a man should at all timesconsider all the events that may befall him in this life; and certainlythe excellence and divine nature of wisdom consists in taking a nearview of, and gaining a thorough acquaintance with, all human affairs, in not being surprised when anything happens, and in thinking, beforethe event, that there is nothing but what may come to pass. 

 Wherefore ev'ry man, When his affairs go on most swimmingly, E'en then it most behooves to arm himself Against the coming storm: loss, danger, exile, Returning ever, let him look to meet; His son in fault, wife dead, or daughter sick; All common accidents, and may have happen'd That nothing shall seem new or strange. But if Aught has fall'n out beyond his hopes, all that Let him account clear gain. [39]

XV. Therefore, as Terence has so well expressed what he borrowed fromphilosophy, shall not we, from whose fountains he drew it, say the samething in a better manner, and abide by it with more steadiness? Hencecame that steady countenance, which, according to Xantippe, her husbandSocrates always had; so that she said that she never observed anydifference in his looks when he went out and when he came home. Yet thelook of that old Roman, M. Crassus, who, as Lucilius says, never smiledbut once in his lifetime, was not of this kind, but placid and serene, for so we are told. He, indeed, might well have had the same look atall times who never changed his mind, from which the countenancederives its expression. So that I am ready to borrow of the Cyrenaicsthose arms against the accidents and events of life by means of which, by long premeditation, they break the force of all approaching evils;and at the same time I think that those very evils themselves arisemore from opinion than nature, for if they were real, no forecast couldmake them lighter. But I shall speak more particularly on these mattersafter I have first considered Epicurus's opinion, who thinks that allpeople must necessarily be uneasy who believe themselves to be in anyevils, let them be either foreseen and expected, or habitual to them;for with him evils are not the less by reason of their continuance, northe lighter for having been foreseen; and it is folly to ruminate onevils to come, or such as, perhaps, never may come: every evil isdisagreeable enough when it does come; but he who is constantlyconsidering that some evil may befall him is loading himself with aperpetual evil; and even should such evil never light on him, hevoluntarily takes upon himself unnecessary misery, so that he is underconstant uneasiness, whether he actually suffers any evil, or onlythinks of it. But he makes the alleviation of grief depend on twothings--a ceasing to think on evil, and a turning to the contemplationof pleasure. For he thinks that the mind may possibly be under thepower of reason, and follow her directions: he forbids us, therefore, to mind trouble, and calls us off from sorrowful reflections; he throwsa mist over our eyes to hinder us from the contemplation of misery. Having sounded a retreat from this statement, he drives our thoughts onagain, and encourages them to view and engage the whole mind in thevarious pleasures with which he thinks the life of a wise man abounds, either from reflecting on the past, or from the hope of what is tocome. I have said these things in my own way; the Epicureans havetheirs. However, let us examine what they say; how they say it is oflittle consequence. 

XVI. In the first place, they are wrong in forbidding men topremeditate on futurity and blaming their wish to do so; for there isnothing that breaks the edge of grief and lightens it more thanconsidering, during one's whole life, that there is nothing which it isimpossible should happen, or than, considering what human nature is, onwhat conditions life was given, and how we may comply with them. Theeffect of which is that we are always grieving, but that we never doso; for whoever reflects on the nature of things, the various turns oflife, and the weakness of human nature, grieves, indeed, at thatreflection; but while so grieving he is, above all other times, behaving as a wise man, for he gains these two things by it: one, thatwhile he is considering the state of human nature he is performing theespecial duties of philosophy, and is provided with a triple medicineagainst adversity--in the first place, because he has long reflectedthat such things might befall him, and this reflection by itselfcontributes much towards lessening and weakening all misfortunes; and, secondly, because he is persuaded that we should bear all the accidentswhich can happen to man with the feelings and spirit of a man; and, lastly, because he considers that what is blamable is the only evil. But it is not your fault that something has happened to you which itwas impossible for man to avoid. For that withdrawing of our thoughtswhich he recommends when he calls us off from contemplating ourmisfortunes is an imaginary action; for it is not in our power todissemble or to forget those evils which lie heavy on us; they tear, vex, and sting us--they burn us up, and leave no breathing time. And doyou order us to forget them (for such forgetfulness is contrary tonature), and at the same time deprive us of the only assistance whichnature affords, the being accustomed to them? For that, though it isbut a slow medicine (I mean that which is brought by lapse of time), isstill a very effectual one. You order me to employ my thoughts onsomething good, and forget my misfortunes. You would say somethingworthy a great philosopher if you thought those things good which arebest suited to the dignity of human nature. 

XVII. Should Pythagoras, Socrates, or Plato say to me, Why are youdejected or sad? Why do you faint, and yield to fortune, which, perhaps, may have power to harass and disturb you, but should not quiteunman you? There is great power in the virtues; rouse them, if theychance to droop. Take fortitude for your guide, which will give yousuch spirits that you will despise everything that can befall man, andlook on it as a trifle. Add to this temperance, which is moderation, and which was just now called frugality, which will not suffer you todo anything base or bad--for what is worse or baser than an effeminateman? Not even justice will suffer you to act in this manner, though sheseems to have the least weight in this affair; but still, notwithstanding, even she will inform you that you are doubly unjustwhen you both require what does not belong to you, inasmuch as thoughyou who have been born mortal demand to be placed in the condition ofthe immortals, and at the same time you take it much to heart that youare to restore what was lent you. What answer will you make toprudence, who informs you that she is a virtue sufficient of herselfboth to teach you a good life and also to secure you a happy one? And, indeed, if she were fettered by external circumstances, and dependenton others, and if she did not originate in herself and return toherself, and also embrace everything in herself, so as to seek noadventitious aid from any quarter, I cannot imagine why she shouldappear deserving of such lofty panegyrics, or of being sought afterwith such excessive eagerness. Now, Epicurus, if you call me back tosuch goods as these, I will obey you, and follow you, and use you as myguide, and even forget, as you order me, all my misfortunes; and I willdo this the more readily from a persuasion that they are not to beranked among evils at all. But you are for bringing my thoughts over topleasure. What pleasures? Pleasures of the body, I imagine, or such asare recollected or imagined on account of the body. Is this all? Do Iexplain your opinion rightly? for your disciples are used to deny thatwe understand at all what Epicurus means. This is what he says, andwhat that subtle fellow, old Zeno, who is one of the sharpest of them, used, when I was attending lectures at Athens, to enforce and talk soloudly of; saying that he alone was happy who could enjoy presentpleasure, and who was at the same time persuaded that he should enjoyit without pain, either during the whole or the greatest part of hislife; or if, should any pain interfere, if it was very sharp, then itmust be short; should it be of longer continuance, it would have moreof what was sweet than bitter in it; that whosoever reflected on thesethings would be happy, especially if satisfied with the good thingswhich he had already enjoyed, and if he were without fear of death orof the Gods. 

XVIII. You have here a representation of a happy life according toEpicurus, in the words of Zeno, so that there is no room forcontradiction in any point. What, then? Can the proposing and thinkingof such a life make Thyestes's grief the less, or Æetes's, of whom Ispoke above, or Telamon's, who was driven from his country to penuryand banishment? in wonder at whom men exclaimed thus:

 Is this the man surpassing glory raised? Is this that Telamon so highly praised By wondering Greece, at whose sight, like the sun, All others with diminish'd lustre shone?

Now, should any one, as the same author says, find his spirits sinkwith the loss of his fortune, he must apply to those grave philosophersof antiquity for relief, and not to these voluptuaries: for what greatabundance of good do they promise? Suppose that we allow that to bewithout pain is the chief good? Yet that is not called pleasure. But itis not necessary at present to go through the whole: the question is, to what point are we to advance in order to abate our grief? Grant thatto be in pain is the greatest evil: whosoever, then, has proceeded sofar as not to be in pain, is he, therefore, in immediate possession ofthe greatest good? Why, Epicurus, do we use any evasions, and not allowin our own words the same feeling to be pleasure which you are used toboast of with such assurance? Are these your words or not? This is whatyou say in that book which contains all the doctrine of your school;for I will perform on this occasion the office of a translator, lestany one should imagine that I am inventing anything. Thus you speak:"Nor can I form any notion of the chief good, abstracted from thosepleasures which are perceived by taste, or from what depends on hearingmusic, or abstracted from ideas raised by external objects visible tothe eye, or by agreeable motions, or from those other pleasures whichare perceived by the whole man by means of any of his senses; nor canit possibly be said that the pleasures of the mind are excited only bywhat is good, for I have perceived men's minds to be pleased with thehopes of enjoying those things which I mentioned above, and with theidea that it should enjoy them without any interruption from pain. " Andthese are his exact words, so that any one may understand what were thepleasures with which Epicurus was acquainted. Then he speaks thus, alittle lower down: "I have often inquired of those who have been calledwise men what would be the remaining good if they should exclude fromconsideration all these pleasures, unless they meant to give us nothingbut words. I could never learn anything from them; and unless theychoose that all virtue and wisdom should vanish and come to nothing, they must say with me that the only road to happiness lies throughthose pleasures which I mentioned above. " What follows is much thesame, and his whole book on the chief good everywhere abounds with thesame opinions. Will you, then, invite Telamon to this kind of life toease his grief? And should you observe any one of your friends underaffliction, would you rather prescribe him a sturgeon than a treatiseof Socrates? or advise him to listen to the music of a water organrather than to Plato? or lay before him the beauty and variety of somegarden, put a nosegay to his nose, burn perfumes before him, and bidhim crown himself with a garland of roses and woodbines? Should you addone thing more, you would certainly wipe out all his grief. 

XIX. Epicurus must admit these arguments, or he must take out of hisbook what I just now said was a literal translation; or, rather, hemust destroy his whole book, for it is crammed full of pleasures. Wemust inquire, then, how we can ease him of his grief who speaks in thismanner:

 My present state proceeds from fortune's stings; By birth I boast of a descent from kings; Hence may you see from what a noble height I'm sunk by fortune to this abject plight. 

What! to ease his grief, must we mix him a cup of sweet wine, orsomething of that kind? Lo! the same poet presents us with anothersentiment somewhere else:

 I, Hector, once so great, now claim your aid. 

We should assist her, for she looks out for help:

 Where shall I now apply, where seek support? Where hence betake me, or to whom resort?" No means remain of comfort or of joy, In flames my palace, and in ruins Troy; Each wall, so late superb, deformed nods, And not an altar's left t' appease the Gods. 

You know what should follow, and particularly this:

 Of father, country, and of friends bereft, Not one of all these sumptuous temples left; Which, while the fortune of our house did stand, With rich wrought ceilings spoke the artist's hand. 

O excellent poet! though despised by those who sing the verses ofEuphorion. He is sensible that all things which come on a sudden areharder to be borne. Therefore, when he had set off the riches of Priamto the best advantage, which had the appearance of a long continuance, what does he add?

 Lo! these all perish'd in one blazing pile; The foe old Priam of his life beguiled, And with his blood, thy altar, Jove, defiled. 

Admirable poetry! There is something mournful in the subject, as wellas in the words and measure. We must drive away this grief of hers: howis that to be done? Shall we lay her on a bed of down; introduce asinger; shall we burn cedar, or present here with some pleasant liquor, and provide her something to eat? Are these the good things whichremove the most afflicting grief? For you but just now said you knew ofno other good. I should agree with Epicurus that we ought to be calledoff from grief to contemplate good things, if we could only agree uponwhat was good. 

XX. It may be said, What! do you imagine Epicurus really meant this, and that he maintained anything so sensual? Indeed I do not imagine so, for I am sensible that he has uttered many excellent things andsentiments, and delivered maxims of great weight. Therefore, as I saidbefore, I am speaking of his acuteness, not of his morals. Though heshould hold those pleasures in contempt which he just now commended, yet I must remember wherein he places the chief good. For he was notcontented with barely saying this, but he has explained what he meant:he says that taste, and embraces, and sports, and music, and thoseforms which affect the eyes with pleasure, are the chief good. Have Iinvented this? have I misrepresented him? I should be glad to beconfuted; for what am I endeavoring at but to clear up truth in everyquestion? Well, but the same man says that pleasure is at its heightwhere pain ceases, and that to be free from all pain is the verygreatest pleasure. Here are three very great mistakes in a very fewwords. One is, that he contradicts himself; for, but just now, he couldnot imagine anything good unless the senses were in a manner tickledwith some pleasure; but now he says that to be free from pain is thehighest pleasure. Can any one contradict himself more? The next mistakeis, that where there is naturally a threefold division--the first, tobe pleased; next, to be in pain; the last, to be affected neither bypleasure nor pain--he imagines the first and the last to be the same, and makes no difference between pleasure and a cessation of pain. Thelast mistake he falls into in common with some others, which is this:that as virtue is the most desirable thing, and as philosophy has beeninvestigated with a view to the attainment of it, he has separated thechief good from virtue. But he commends virtue, and that frequently;and indeed C. Gracchus, when he had made the largest distributions ofthe public money, and had exhausted the treasury, nevertheless spokemuch of defending the treasury. What signifies what men say when we seewhat they do? That Piso, who was surnamed Frugal, had always haranguedagainst the law that was proposed for distributing the corn; but whenit had passed, though a man of consular dignity, he came to receive thecorn. Gracchus observed Piso standing in the court, and asked him, inthe hearing of the people, how it was consistent for him to take cornby a law he had himself opposed. "It was, " said he, "against yourdistributing my goods to every man as you thought proper; but, as youdo so, I claim my share. " Did not this grave and wise man sufficientlyshow that the public revenue was dissipated by the Sempronian law? ReadGracchus's speeches, and you will pronounce him the advocate of thetreasury. Epicurus denies that any one can live pleasantly who does notlead a life of virtue; he denies that fortune has any power over a wiseman; he prefers a spare diet to great plenty, and maintains that a wiseman is always happy. All these things become a philosopher to say, butthey are not consistent with pleasure. But the reply is, that he dothnot mean _that_ pleasure: let him mean any pleasure, it must be such aone as makes no part of virtue. But suppose we are mistaken as to hispleasure; are we so, too, as to his pain? I maintain, therefore, theimpropriety of language which that man uses, when talking of virtue, who would measure every great evil by pain. 

XXI. And indeed the Epicureans, those best of men--for there is noorder of men more innocent--complain that I take great pains to inveighagainst Epicurus. We are rivals, I suppose, for some honor ordistinction. I place the chief good in the mind, he in the body; I invirtue, he in pleasure; and the Epicureans are up in arms, and implorethe assistance of their neighbors, and many are ready to fly to theiraid. But as for my part, I declare that I am very indifferent about thematter, and that I consider the whole discussion which they are soanxious about at an end. For what! is the contention about the Punicwar? on which very subject, though M. Cato and L. Lentulus were ofdifferent opinions, still there was no difference between them. Butthese men behave with too much heat, especially as the opinions whichthey would uphold are no very spirited ones, and such as they dare notplead for either in the senate or before the assembly of the people, orbefore the army or the censors. But, however, I will argue with themanother time, and with such a disposition that no quarrel shall arisebetween us; for I shall be ready to yield to their opinions whenfounded on truth. Only I must give them this advice: That were it everso true, that a wise man regards nothing but the body, or, to expressmyself with more decency, never does anything except what is expedient, and views all things with exclusive reference to his own advantage, assuch things are not very commendable, they should confine them to theirown breasts, and leave off talking with that parade of them. 

XXII. What remains is the opinion of the Cyrenaics, who think that mengrieve when anything happens unexpectedly. And that is indeed, as Isaid before, a great aggravation of a misfortune; and I know that itappeared so to Chrysippus--"Whatever falls out unexpected is so muchthe heavier. " But the whole question does not turn on this; though thesudden approach of an enemy sometimes occasions more confusion than itwould if you had expected him, and a sudden storm at sea throws thesailors into a greater fright than one which they have foreseen; and itis the same in many other cases. But when you carefully consider thenature of what was expected, you will find nothing more than that allthings which come on a sudden appear greater; and this upon twoaccounts: first of all, because you have not time to consider how greatthe accident is; and, secondly, because you are probably persuaded thatyou could have guarded against it had you foreseen if, and thereforethe misfortune, having been seemingly encountered by your own fault, makes your grief the greater. That it is so, time evinces; which, as itadvances, brings with it so much mitigation that though the samemisfortunes continue, the grief not only becomes the less, but in somecases is entirely removed. Many Carthaginians were slaves at Rome, andmany Macedonians, when Perseus their king was taken prisoner. I saw, too, when I was a young man, some Corinthians in the Peloponnesus. Theymight all have lamented with Andromache, All these I saw. .. .. . ;

but they had perhaps given over lamenting themselves, for by theircountenances, and speech, and other gestures you might have taken themfor Argives or Sicyonians. And I myself was more concerned at theruined walls of Corinth than the Corinthians themselves were, whoseminds by frequent reflection and time had become callous to suchsights. I have read a book of Clitomachus, which he sent to hisfellow-citizens who were prisoners, to comfort them after thedestruction of Carthage. There is in it a treatise written byCarneades, which, as Clitomachus says, he had inserted into his book;the subject was, "That it appeared probable that a wise man wouldgrieve at the state of subjection of his country, " and all thearguments which Carneades used against this proposition are set down inthe book. There the philosopher applies such a strong medicine to afresh grief as would be quite unnecessary in one of any continuance;nor, if this very book had been sent to the captives some years after, would it have found any wounds to cure, but only scars; for grief, by agentle progress and slow degrees, wears away imperceptibly. Not thatthe circumstances which gave rise to it are altered, or can be, butthat custom teaches what reason should--that those things which beforeseemed to be of some consequence are of no such great importance, afterall. 

XXIII. It may be said, What occasion is there to apply to reason, or toany sort of consolation such as we generally make use of, to mitigatethe grief of the afflicted? For we have this argument always at hand, that nothing ought to appear unexpected. But how will any one beenabled to bear his misfortunes the better by knowing that it isunavoidable that such things should happen to man? Saying thissubtracts nothing from the sum of the grief: it only asserts thatnothing has fallen out but what might have been anticipated; and yetthis manner of speaking has some little consolation in it, though Iapprehend not a great deal. Therefore those unlooked-for things havenot so much force as to give rise to all our grief; the blow perhapsmay fall the heavier, but whatever happens does not appear the greateron that account. No, it is the fact of its having happened lately, andnot of its having befallen us unexpectedly, that makes it seem thegreater. There are two ways, then, of discerning the truth, not only ofthings that seem evil, but of those that have the appearance of good. For we either inquire into the nature of the thing, of whatdescription, and magnitude, and importance it is--as sometimes withregard to poverty, the burden of which we may lighten when by ourdisputations we show how few things nature requires, and of what atrifling kind they are--or, without any subtle arguing, we refer themto examples, as here we instance a Socrates, there a Diogenes, and thenagain that line in Cæcilius, Wisdom is oft conceal'd in mean attire. 

For as poverty is of equal weight with all, what reason can be givenwhy what was borne by Fabricius should be spoken of by any one else asunsupportable when it falls upon themselves? Of a piece with this isthat other way of comforting, which consists in pointing out thatnothing has happened but what is common to human nature; for thisargument doth not only inform us what human nature is, but implies thatall things are tolerable which others have borne and are bearing. 

XXIV. Is poverty the subject? They tell you of many who have submittedto it with patience. Is it the contempt of honors? They acquaint youwith some who never enjoyed any, and were the happier for it; and ofthose who have preferred a private retired life to public employment, mentioning their names with respect; they tell you of the verse[40] ofthat most powerful king who praises an old man, and pronounces himhappy because he was unknown to fame and seemed likely to arrive at thehour of death in obscurity and without notice. Thus, too, they haveexamples for those who are deprived of their children: they who areunder any great grief are comforted by instances of like affliction;and thus the endurance of every misfortune is rendered more easy by thefact of others having undergone the same, and the fate of others causeswhat has happened to appear less important than it has been previouslythought, and reflection thus discovers to us how much opinion hadimposed on us. And this is what the Telamon declares, "I, when my sonwas born, " etc. ; and thus Theseus, "I on my future misery did dwell;"and Anaxagoras, "I knew my son was mortal. " All these men, byfrequently reflecting on human affairs, had discovered that they wereby no means to be estimated by the opinion of the multitude; and, indeed, it seems to me to be pretty much the same case with those whoconsider beforehand as with those who derive their remedies from time, excepting that a kind of reason cures the one, and the other remedy isprovided by nature; by which we discover (and this contains the wholemarrow of the matter) that what was imagined to be the greatest evil isby no means so great as to defeat the happiness of life. And the effectof this is, that the blow is greater by reason of its not having beenforeseen, and not, as they suppose, that when similar misfortunesbefall two different people, that man only is affected with grief whomthis calamity has befallen unexpectedly. So that some persons, underthe oppression of grief, are said to have borne it actually worse forhearing of this common condition of man, that we are born under suchconditions as render it impossible for a man to be exempt from allevil. 

XXV. For this reason Carneades, as I see our friend Antiochus writes, used to blame Chrysippus for commending these verses of Euripides:

 Man, doom'd to care, to pain, disease, and strife, Walks his short journey thro' the vale of life: Watchful attends the cradle and the grave, And passing generations longs to save: Last, dies himself: yet wherefore should we mourn? For man must to his kindred dust return; Submit to the destroying hand of fate, As ripen'd ears the harvest-sickle wait. [41]

He would not allow a speech of this kind to avail at all to the cure ofour grief, for he said it was a lamentable case itself that we werefallen into the hands of such a cruel fate; and that a speech likethat, preaching up comfort from the misfortunes of another, was acomfort adapted only to those of a malevolent disposition. But to me itappears far otherwise; for the necessity of bearing what is the commoncondition of humanity forbids your resisting the will of the Gods, andreminds you that you are a man, which reflection greatly alleviatesgrief; and the enumeration of these examples is not produced with aview to please those of a malevolent disposition, but in order that anyone in affliction may be induced to bear what he observes many othershave previously borne with tranquillity and moderation. For they whoare falling to pieces, and cannot hold together through the greatnessof their grief, should be supported by all kinds of assistance. Fromwhence Chrysippus thinks that grief is called [Greek: lypê], as it were[Greek: lysis], that is to say, a dissolution of the whole man--thewhole of which I think may be pulled up by the roots by explaining, asI said at the beginning, the cause of grief; for it is nothing else butan opinion and judgment formed of a present acute evil. And thus anybodily pain, let it be ever so grievous, may be endurable where anyhopes are proposed of some considerable good; and we receive suchconsolation from a virtuous and illustrious life that they who leadsuch lives are seldom attacked by grief, or but slightly affected byit. 

XXVI. But as besides this opinion of great evil there is this otheradded also--that we ought to lament what has happened, that it is rightso to do, and part of our duty, then is brought about that terribledisorder of mind, grief. And it is to this opinion that we owe allthose various and horrid kinds of lamentation, that neglect of ourpersons, that womanish tearing of our cheeks, that striking on ourthighs, breasts, and heads. Thus Agamemnon, in Homer and in Accius, Tears in his grief his uncomb'd locks;[42]

from whence comes that pleasant saying of Bion, that the foolish kingin his sorrow tore away the hairs of his head, imagining that his griefwould be alleviated by baldness. But men do all these things from beingpersuaded that they ought to do so. And thus Æschines inveighs againstDemosthenes for sacrificing within seven days after the death of hisdaughter. But with what eloquence, with what fluency, does he attackhim! what sentiments does he collect! what words does he hurl againsthim! You may see by this that an orator may do anything; but nobodywould approve of such license if it were not that we have an ideainnate in our minds that every good man ought to lament the loss of arelation as bitterly as possible. And it is owing to this that somemen, when in sorrow, betake themselves to deserts, as Homer says ofBellerophon:

 Distracted in his mind, Forsook by heaven, forsaking human kind, Wide o'er the Aleïan field he chose to stray, A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way![43]

And thus Niobe is feigned to have been turned into stone, from hernever speaking, I suppose, in her grief. But they imagine Hecuba tohave been converted into a bitch, from her rage and bitterness of mind. There are others who love to converse with solitude itself when ingrief, as the nurse in Ennius, Fain would I to the heavens find earth relate Medea's ceaseless woes and cruel fate. [44]

XXVII. Now all these things are done in grief, from a persuasion oftheir truth and propriety and necessity; and it is plain that those whobehave thus do so from a conviction of its being their duty; for shouldthese mourners by chance drop their grief, and either act or speak fora moment in a more calm or cheerful manner, they presently checkthemselves and return to their lamentations again, and blame themselvesfor having been guilty of any intermissions from their grief; andparents and masters generally correct children not by words only, butby blows, if they show any levity by either word or deed when thefamily is under affliction, and, as it were, oblige them to besorrowful. What! does it not appear, when you have ceased to mourn, andhave discovered that your grief has been ineffectual, that the whole ofthat mourning was voluntary on your part? What does that man say inTerence who punishes himself, the Self-tormentor?

 I think I do my son less harm, O Chremes, As long as I myself am miserable. 

He determines to be miserable: and can any one determine on anythingagainst his will?

 I well might think that I deserved all evil. 

He would think he deserved any misfortune were he otherwise thanmiserable! Therefore, you see, the evil is in opinion, not in nature. How is it when some things do of themselves prevent your grieving atthem? as in Homer, so many died and were buried daily that they had notleisure to grieve: where you find these lines--

 The great, the bold, by thousands daily fall, And endless were the grief to weep for all. Eternal sorrows what avails to shed? Greece honors not with solemn fasts the dead: Enough when death demands the brave to pay The tribute of a melancholy day. One chief with patience to the grave resign'd, Our care devolves on others left behind. [45]

Therefore it is in our own power to lay aside grief upon occasion; andis there any opportunity (seeing the thing is in our own power) that weshould let slip of getting rid of care and grief? It was plain that thefriends of Cnæus Pompeius, when they saw him fainting under his wounds, at the very moment of that most miserable and bitter sight were undergreat uneasiness how they themselves, surrounded by the enemy as theywere, should escape, and were employed in nothing but encouraging therowers and aiding their escape; but when they reached Tyre, they beganto grieve and lament over him. Therefore, as fear with them, prevailedover grief, cannot reason and true philosophy have the same effect witha wise man?

XXVIII. But what is there more effectual to dispel grief than thediscovery that it answers no purpose, and has been undergone to noaccount? Therefore, if we can get rid of it, we need never have beensubject to it. It must be acknowledged, then, that men take up griefwilfully and knowingly; and this appears from the patience of thosewho, after they have been exercised in afflictions and are better ableto bear whatever befalls them, suppose themselves hardened againstfortune; as that person in Euripides, Had this the first essay of fortune been, And I no storms thro' all my life had seen, Wild as a colt I'd broke from reason's sway; But frequent griefs have taught me to obey. [46]

As, then, the frequent bearing of misery makes grief the lighter, wemust necessarily perceive that the cause and original of it does notlie in the calamity itself. Your principal philosophers, or lovers ofwisdom, though they have not yet arrived at perfect wisdom, are notthey sensible that they are in the greatest evil? For they are foolish, and foolishness is the greatest of all evils, and yet they lament not. How shall we account for this? Because opinion is not fixed upon thatkind of evil, it is not our opinion that it is right, meet, and ourduty to be uneasy because we are not all wise men. Whereas this opinionis strongly affixed to that uneasiness where mourning is concerned, which is the greatest of all grief. Therefore Aristotle, when he blamessome ancient philosophers for imagining that by their genius they hadbrought philosophy to the highest perfection, says, they must be eitherextremely foolish or extremely vain; but that he himself could see thatgreat improvements had been made therein in a few years, and thatphilosophy would in a little time arrive at perfection. AndTheophrastus is reported to have reproached nature at his death forgiving to stags and crows so long a life, which was of no use to them, but allowing only so short a span to men, to whom length of days wouldhave been of the greatest use; for if the life of man could have beenlengthened, it would have been able to provide itself with all kinds oflearning, and with arts in the greatest perfection. He lamented, therefore, that he was dying just when he had begun to discover these. What! does not every grave and distinguished philosopher acknowledgehimself ignorant of many things, and confess that there are many thingswhich he must learn over and over again? And yet, though these men aresensible that they are standing still in the very midway of folly, thanwhich nothing can be worse, they are under no great affliction, becauseno opinion that it is their duty to lament is ever mingled with thisknowledge. What shall we say of those who think it unbecoming in a manto grieve? among whom we may reckon Q. Maximus, when he buried his sonthat had been consul, and L. Paulus, who lost two sons within a fewdays of one another. Of the same opinion was M. Cato, who lost his sonjust after he had been elected prætor, and many others, whose names Ihave collected in my book on Consolation. Now what made these men soeasy, but their persuasion that grief and lamentation was not becomingin a man? Therefore, as some give themselves up to grief from anopinion that it is right so to do, they refrained themselves, from anopinion that it was discreditable; from which we may infer that griefis owing more to opinion than nature. 

XXIX. It may be said, on the other side, Who is so mad as to grieve ofhis own accord? Pain proceeds from nature, which you must submit to, say they, agreeably to what even your own Crantor teaches, for itpresses and gains upon you unavoidably, and cannot possibly beresisted. So that the very same Oileus, in Sophocles, who had beforecomforted Telamon on the death of Ajax, on hearing of the death of hisown son, is broken-hearted. On this alteration of his mind we havethese lines:

 Show me the man so well by wisdom taught That what he charges to another's fault, When like affliction doth himself betide, True to his own wise counsel will abide. [47]

Now, when they urge these things, their endeavor is to prove thatnature is absolutely and wholly irresistible; and yet the same peopleallow that we take greater grief on ourselves than nature requires. What madness is it, then, in us to require the same from others? Butthere are many reasons for our taking grief on us. The first is fromthe opinion of some evil, on the discovery and certainty of which griefcomes of course. Besides, many people are persuaded that they are doingsomething very acceptable to the dead when they lament bitterly overthem. To these may be added a kind of womanish superstition, inimagining that when they have been stricken by the afflictions sent bythe Gods, to acknowledge themselves afflicted and humbled by them isthe readiest way of appeasing them. But most men appear to be unawarewhat contradictions these things are full of. They commend those whodie calmly, but they blame those who can bear the loss of another withthe same calmness, as if it were possible that it should be true, as isoccasionally said in love speeches, that any one can love another morethan himself. There is, indeed, something excellent in this, and, ifyou examine it, something no less just than true, that we love thosewho ought to be most dear to us as well as we love ourselves; but tolove them more than ourselves is absolutely impossible; nor is itdesirable in friendship that I should love my friend more than myself, or that he should love me so; for this would occasion much confusion inlife, and break in upon all the duties of it. 

XXX. But we will speak of this another time: at present it issufficient not to attribute our misery to the loss of our friends, norto love them more than, if they themselves could be sensible of ourconduct, they would approve of, or at least not more than we doourselves. Now as to what they say, that some are not at all appeasedby our consolations; and, moreover, as to what they add, that thecomforters themselves acknowledge they are miserable when fortunevaries the attack and falls on them--in both these cases the solutionis easy: for the fault here is not in nature, but in our own folly; andmuch may be said against folly. But men who do not admit of consolationseem to bespeak misery for themselves; and they who cannot bear theirmisfortunes with that temper which they recommend to others are notmore faulty in this particular than most other persons; for we see thatcovetous men find fault with others who are covetous, as do thevainglorious with those who appear too wholly devoted to the pursuit ofglory. For it is the peculiar characteristic of folly to perceive thevices of others, but to forget its own. But since we find that grief isremoved by length of time, we have the greatest proof that the strengthof it depends not merely on time, but on the daily consideration of it. For if the cause continues the same, and the man be the same, how canthere be any alteration in the grief, if there is no change in whatoccasioned the grief, nor in him who grieves? Therefore it is fromdaily reflecting that there is no real evil in the circumstance forwhich you grieve, and not from the length of time, that you procure aremedy for your grief. 

XXXI. Here some people talk of moderate grief; but if such be natural, what occasion is there for consolation? for nature herself willdetermine, the measure of it: but if it depends on and is caused byopinion, the whole opinion should be destroyed. I think that it hasbeen sufficiently said, that grief arises from an opinion of somepresent evil, which includes this belief, that it is incumbent on us togrieve. To this definition Zeno has added, very justly, that theopinion of this present evil should be recent. Now this word recentthey explain thus: those are not the only recent things which happeneda little while ago; but as long as there shall be any force, or vigor, or freshness in that imagined evil, so long it is entitled to the nameof recent. Take the case of Artemisia, the wife of Mausolus, King ofCaria, who made that noble sepulchre at Halicarnassus; while she lived, she lived in grief, and died of it, being worn out by it, for thatopinion was always recent with her: but you cannot call that recentwhich has already begun to decay through time. Now the duty of acomforter is, to remove grief entirely, to quiet it, or draw it off asmuch as you can, or else to keep it under, and prevent its spreadingany further, and to divert one's attention to other matters. There aresome who think, with Cleanthes, that the only duty of a comforter is toprove that what one is lamenting is by no means an evil. Others, as thePeripatetics, prefer urging that the evil is not great. Others, withEpicurus, seek to divert your attention from the evil to good: somethink it sufficient to show that nothing has happened but what you hadreason to expect; and this is the practice of the Cyrenaics. ButChrysippus thinks that the main thing in comforting is, to remove theopinion from the person who is grieving, that to grieve is his boundenduty. There are others who bring together all these various kinds ofconsolations, for people are differently affected; as I have donemyself in my book on Consolation; for as my own mind was muchdisordered, I have attempted in that book to discover every method ofcure. But the proper season is as much to be attended to in the cure ofthe mind as of the body; as Prometheus in Æschylus, on its being saidto him, I think, Prometheus, you this tenet hold, That all men's reason should their rage control?

answers, Yes, when one reason properly applies; Ill-timed advice will make the storm but rise. [48]

XXXII. But the principal medicine to be applied in consolation is, tomaintain either that it is no evil at all, or a very inconsiderableone: the next best to that is, to speak of the common condition oflife, having a view, if possible, to the state of the person whom youcomfort particularly. The third is, that it is folly to wear one's selfout with grief which can avail nothing. For the comfort of Cleanthes issuitable only for a wise man, who is in no need of any comfort at all;for could you persuade one in grief that nothing is an evil but what isbase, you would not only cure him of grief, but folly. But the time forsuch precepts is not well chosen. Besides, Cleanthes does not seem tome sufficiently aware that affliction may very often proceed from thatvery thing which he himself allows to be the greatest misfortune. Forwhat shall we say? When Socrates had convinced Alcibiades, as we aretold, that he had no distinctive qualifications as a man different fromother people, and that, in fact, there was no difference between him, though a man of the highest rank, and a porter; and when Alcibiadesbecame uneasy at this, and entreated Socrates, with tears in his eyes, to make him a man of virtue, and to cure him of that mean position;what shall we say to this, Cleanthes? Was there no evil in whatafflicted Alcibiades thus? What strange things does Lycon say? who, making light of grief, says that it arises from trifles, from thingsthat affect our fortune or bodies, not from the evils of the mind. What, then? did not the grief of Alcibiades proceed from the defectsand evils of the mind? I have already said enough of Epicurus'sconsolation. 

XXXIII. Nor is that consolation much to be relied on, though it isfrequently practised, and sometimes has some effect, namely, "That youare not alone in this. " It has its effect, as I said, but not always, nor with every person, for some reject it; but much depends on theapplication of it; for you ought rather to show, not how men in generalhave been affected with such evils, but how men of sense have bornethem. As to Chrysippus's method, it is certainly founded in truth; butit is difficult to apply it in time of distress. It is a work of nosmall difficulty to persuade a person in affliction that he grievesmerely because he thinks it right so to do. Certainly, then, as inpleadings we do not state all cases alike (if I may adopt the languageof lawyers for a moment), but adapt what we have to say to the time, tothe nature of the subject under debate, and to the person; so, too, inalleviating grief, regard should be had to what kind of cure the partyto be comforted can admit of. But, somehow or other, we have rambledfrom what you originally proposed. For your question was concerning awise man, with whom nothing can have the appearance of evil that is notdishonorable; or at least, anything else would seem so small an evilthat by his wisdom he would so overmatch it as to make it whollydisappear; and such a man makes no addition to his grief throughopinion, and never conceives it right to torment himself above measure, nor to wear himself out with grief, which is the meanest thingimaginable. Reason, however, it seems, has demonstrated (though it wasnot directly our object at the moment to inquire whether anything canbe called an evil except what is base) that it is in our power todiscern that all the evil which there is in affliction has nothingnatural in it, but is contracted by our own voluntary judgment of it, and the error of opinion. 

XXXIV. But the kind of affliction of which I have treated is that whichis the greatest; in order that when we have once got rid of that, itmay appear a business of less consequence to look after remedies forthe others. For there are certain things which are usually said aboutpoverty; and also certain statements ordinarily applied to retired andundistinguished life. There are particular treatises on banishment, onthe ruin of one's country, on slavery, on weakness, on blindness, andon every incident that can come under the name of an evil. The Greeksdivide these into different treatises and distinct books; but they doit for the sake of employment: not but that all such discussions arefull of entertainment. And yet, as physicians, in curing the wholebody, attend to even the most insignificant part of the body which isat all disordered, so does philosophy act, after it has removed griefin general; still, if any other deficiency exists--should poverty bite, should ignominy sting, should banishment bring a dark cloud over us, orshould any of those things which I have just mentioned appear, there isfor each its appropriate consolation, which you shall hear whenever youplease. But we must have recourse again to the same original principle, that a wise man is free from all sorrow, because it is vain, because itanswers no purpose, because it is not founded in nature, but on opinionand prejudice, and is engendered by a kind of invitation to grieve, when once men have imagined that it is their duty to do so. When, then, we have subtracted what is altogether voluntary, that mournfuluneasiness will be removed; yet some little anxiety, some slightpricking, will still remain. They may indeed call this natural, provided they give it not that horrid, solemn, melancholy name ofgrief, which can by no means consist with wisdom. But how various andhow bitter are the roots of grief! Whatever they are, I propose, afterhaving felled the trunk, to destroy them all; even if it should benecessary, by allotting a separate dissertation to each, for I haveleisure enough to do so, whatever time it may take up. But theprinciple of every uneasiness is the same, though they may appear underdifferent names. For envy is an uneasiness; so are emulation, detraction, anguish, sorrow, sadness, tribulation, lamentation, vexation, grief, trouble, affliction, and despair. The Stoics defineall these different feelings; and all those words which I havementioned belong to different things, and do not, as they seem, expressthe same ideas; but they are to a certain extent distinct, as I shallmake appear perhaps in another place. These are those fibres of theroots which, as I said at first, must be traced back and cut off anddestroyed, so that not one shall remain. You say it is a great anddifficult undertaking: who denies it? But what is there of anyexcellency which has not its difficulty? Yet philosophy undertakes toeffect it, provided we admit its superintendence. But enough of this. The other books, whenever you please, shall be ready for you here oranywhere else. 

 * * * * *

BOOK IV. 

On other perturbations of the mind. 

I. I have often wondered, Brutus, on many occasions, at the ingenuityand virtues of our countrymen; but nothing has surprised me more thantheir development in those studies, which, though they came somewhatlate to us, have been transported into this city from Greece. For thesystem of auspices, and religious ceremonies, and courts of justice, and appeals to the people, the senate, the establishment of an army ofcavalry and infantry, and the whole military discipline, wereinstituted as early as the foundation of the city by royal authority, partly too by laws, not without the assistance of the Gods. Then withwhat a surprising and incredible progress did our ancestors advancetowards all kind of excellence, when once the republic was freed fromthe regal power! Not that this is a proper occasion to treat of themanners and customs of our ancestors, or of the discipline andconstitution of the city; for I have elsewhere, particularly in the sixbooks I wrote on the Republic, given a sufficiently accurate account ofthem. But while I am on this subject, and considering the study ofphilosophy, I meet with many reasons to imagine that those studies werebrought to us from abroad, and not merely imported, but preserved andimproved; for they had Pythagoras, a man of consummate wisdom andnobleness of character, in a manner, before their eyes, who was inItaly at the time that Lucius Brutus, the illustrious founder of yournobility, delivered his country from tyranny. As the doctrine ofPythagoras spread itself on all sides, it seems probable to me that itreached this city; and this is not only probable of itself, but it doesreally appear to have been the case from many remains of it. For whocan imagine that, when it flourished so much in that part of Italywhich was called Magna Græcia, and in some of the largest and mostpowerful cities, in which, first the name of Pythagoras, and then thatof those men who were afterward his followers, was in so high esteem;who can imagine, I say, that our people could shut their ears to whatwas said by such learned men? Besides, it is even my opinion that itwas the great esteem in which the Pythagoreans were held, that gaverise to that opinion among those who came after him, that King Numa wasa Pythagorean. For, being acquainted with the doctrine and principlesof Pythagoras, and having heard from their ancestors that this king wasa very wise and just man, and not being able to distinguish accuratelybetween times and periods that were so remote, they inferred, from hisbeing so eminent for his wisdom, that he had been a pupil ofPythagoras. 

II. So far we proceed on conjecture. As to the vestiges of thePythagoreans, though I might collect many, I shall use but a few;because they have no connection with our present purpose. For, as it isreported to have been a custom with them to deliver certain precepts ina more abstruse manner in verse, and to bring their minds from severethought to a more composed state by songs and musical instruments; soCato, a writer of the very highest authority, says in his Origins, thatit was customary with our ancestors for the guests at theirentertainments, every one in his turn, to celebrate the praises andvirtues of illustrious men in song to the sound of the flute; fromwhence it is clear that poems and songs were then composed for thevoice. And, indeed, it is also clear that poetry was in fashion fromthe laws of the Twelve Tables, wherein it is provided that no songshould be made to the injury of another. Another argument of theerudition of those times is, that they played on instruments before theshrines of their Gods, and at the entertainments of their magistrates;but that custom was peculiar to the sect I am speaking of. To me, indeed, that poem of Appius Cæcus, which Panætius commends so much in acertain letter of his which is addressed to Quintus Tubero, has all themarks of a Pythagorean author. We have many things derived from thePythagoreans in our customs, which I pass over, that we may not seem tohave learned that elsewhere which we look upon ourselves as theinventors of. But to return to our purpose. How many great poets aswell as orators have sprung up among us! and in what a short time! sothat it is evident that our people could arrive at any learning as soonas they had an inclination for it. But of other studies I shall speakelsewhere if there is occasion, as I have already often done. 

III. The study of philosophy is certainly of long standing with us; butyet I do not find that I can give you the names of any philosopherbefore the age of Lælius and Scipio, in whose younger days we find thatDiogenes the Stoic, and Carneades the Academic, were sent asambassadors by the Athenians to our senate. And as these had never beenconcerned in public affairs, and one of them was a Cyrenean, the othera Babylonian, they certainly would never have been forced from theirstudies, nor chosen for that employment, unless the study of philosophyhad been in vogue with some of the great men at that time; who, thoughthey might employ their pens on other subjects--some on civil law, others on oratory, others on the history of former times--yet promotedthis most extensive of all arts, the principle of living well, evenmore by their life than by their writings. So that of that true andelegant philosophy (which was derived from Socrates, and is stillpreserved by the Peripatetics and by the Stoics, though they expressthemselves differently in their disputes with the Academics) there arefew or no Latin records; whether this proceeds from the importance ofthe thing itself, or from men's being otherwise employed, or from theirconcluding that the capacity of the people was not equal to theapprehension of them. But, during this silence, C. Amafinius arose andtook upon himself to speak; on the publishing of whose writings thepeople were moved, and enlisted themselves chiefly under this sect, either because the doctrine was more easily understood, or because theywere invited thereto by the pleasing thoughts of amusement, or that, because there was nothing better, they laid hold of what was offeredthem. And after Amafinius, when many of the same sentiments had writtenmuch about them, the Pythagoreans spread over all Italy: but that thesedoctrines should be so easily understood and approved of by theunlearned is a great proof that they were not written with any greatsubtlety, and they think their establishment to be owing to this. 

IV. But let every one defend his own opinion, for every one is atliberty to choose what he likes: I shall keep to my old custom; and, being under no restraint from the laws of any particular school, whichin philosophy every one must necessarily confine himself to, I shallalways inquire what has the most probability in every question, andthis system, which I have often practised on other occasions, I haveadhered closely to in my Tusculan Disputations. Therefore, as I haveacquainted you with the disputations of the three former days, thisbook shall conclude the discussion of the fourth day. When we had comedown into the Academy, as we had done the former days, the business wascarried on thus:

_M. _ Let any one say, who pleases, what he would wish to havediscussed. 

_A. _ I do not think a wise man can possibly be free from everyperturbation of mind. 

_M. _ He seemed by yesterday's discourse to be free from grief; unlessyou agreed with us only to avoid taking up time. 

_A. _ Not at all on that account, for I was extremely satisfied withyour discourse. 

_M. _ You do not think, then, that a wise man is subject to grief?

_A. _ No, by no means. 

_M. _ But if that cannot disorder the mind of a wise man, nothing elsecan. For what--can such a man be disturbed by fear? Fear proceeds fromthe same things when absent which occasion grief when present. Takeaway grief, then, and you remove fear. 

The two remaining perturbations are, a joy elate above measure, andlust; and if a wise man is not subject to these, his mind will bealways at rest. 

_A. _ I am entirely of that opinion. 

_M. _ Which, then, shall we do? Shall I immediately crowd all my sails?or shall I make use of my oars, as if I were just endeavoring to getclear of the harbor?

_A. _ What is it that you mean, for I do not exactly comprehend you?

V. _M. _ Because, Chrysippus and the Stoics, when they discuss theperturbations of the mind, make great part of their debate to consistin definitions and distinctions; while they employ but few words on thesubject of curing the mind, and preventing it from being disordered. Whereas the Peripatetics bring a great many things to promote the cureof it, but have no regard to their thorny partitions and definitions. My question, then, was, whether I should instantly unfold the sails ofmy eloquence, or be content for a while to make less way with the oarsof logic?

_A. _ Let it be so; for by the employment of both these means thesubject of our inquiry will be more thoroughly discussed. 

_M. _ It is certainly the better way; and should anything be tooobscure, you may examine that afterward. 

_A. _ I will do so; but those very obscure points you will, as usual, deliver with more clearness than the Greeks. 

_M. _ I will, indeed, endeavor to do so; but it well requires greatattention, lest, by losing one word, the whole should escape you. Whatthe Greeks call [Greek: pathê] we choose to name perturbations (ordisorders) rather than diseases; in explaining which, I shall follow, first, that very old description of Pythagoras, and afterward that ofPlato; for they both divide the mind into two parts, and make one ofthese partake of reason, and the other they represent without it. Inthat which partakes of reason they place tranquillity, that is to say, a placid and undisturbed constancy; to the other they assign the turbidmotions of anger and desire, which are contrary and opposite to reason. Let this, then, be our principle, the spring of all our reasonings. Butnotwithstanding, I shall use the partitions and definitions of theStoics in describing these perturbations; who seem to me to have shownvery great acuteness on this question. 

VI. Zeno's definition, then, is this: "A perturbation" (which he callsa [Greek: pathos]) "is a commotion of the mind repugnant to reason, andagainst nature. " Some of them define it even more briefly, saying thata perturbation is a somewhat too vehement appetite; but by too vehementthey mean an appetite that recedes further from the constancy ofnature. But they would have the divisions of perturbations to arisefrom two imagined goods, and from two imagined evils; and thus theybecome four: from the good proceed lust and joy--joy having referenceto some present good, and lust to some future one. They suppose fearand grief to proceed from evils: fear from something future, grief fromsomething present; for whatever things are dreaded as approachingalways occasion grief when present. But joy and lust depend on theopinion of good; as lust, being inflamed and provoked, is carried oneagerly towards what has the appearance of good; and joy is transportedand exults on obtaining what was desired: for we naturally pursue thosethings that have the appearance of good, and avoid the contrary. Wherefore, as soon as anything that has the appearance of good presentsitself, nature incites us to endeavor to obtain it. Now, where thisstrong desire is consistent and founded on prudence, it is by theStoics called [Greek: boulêsis], and the name which we give it isvolition; and this they allow to none but their wise man, and define itthus: Volition is a reasonable desire; but whatever is incited tooviolently in opposition to reason, that is a lust, or an unbridleddesire, which is discoverable in all fools. And, therefore, when we areaffected so as to be placed in any good condition, we are moved in twoways; for when the mind is moved in a placid and calm motion, consistent with reason, that is called joy; but when it exults with avain, wanton exultation, or immoderate joy, then that feeling may becalled immoderate ecstasy or transport, which they define to be anelation of the mind without reason. And as we naturally desire goodthings, so in like manner we naturally seek to avoid what is evil; andthis avoidance of which, if conducted in accordance with reason, iscalled caution; and this the wise man alone is supposed to have: butthat caution which is not under the guidance of reason, but is attendedwith a base and low dejection, is called fear. Fear is, therefore, caution destitute of reason. But a wise man is not affected by anypresent evil; while the grief of a fool proceeds from being affectedwith an imaginary evil, by which his mind is contracted and sunk, sinceit is not under the dominion of reason. This, then, is the firstdefinition, which makes grief to consist in a shrinking of the mindcontrary to the dictates of reason. Thus, there are four perturbations, and but three calm rational emotions; for grief has no exact opposite. 

VII. But they insist upon it that all perturbations depend on opinionand judgment; therefore they define them more strictly, in order notonly the better to show how blamable they are, but to discover how muchthey are in our power. Grief, then, is a recent opinion of some presentevil, in which it seems to be right that the mind should shrink and bedejected. Joy is a recent opinion of a present good, in which it seemsto be right that the mind should be elated. Fear is an opinion of animpending evil which we apprehend will be intolerable. Lust is anopinion of a good to come, which would be of advantage were it alreadycome, and present with us. But however I have named the judgments andopinions of perturbations, their meaning is, not that merely theperturbations consist in them, but that the effects likewise of theseperturbations do so; as grief occasions a kind of painful pricking, andfear engenders a recoil or sudden abandonment of the mind, joy givesrise to a profuse mirth, while lust is the parent of an unbridled habitof coveting. But that imagination, which I have included in all theabove definitions, they would have to consist in assenting withoutwarrantable grounds. Now, every perturbation has many subordinate partsannexed to it of the same kind. Grief is attended with enviousness(_invidentia_)--I use that word for instruction's sake, though it isnot so common; because envy (_invidia_) takes in not only the personwho envies, but the person, too, who is envied--emulation, detraction, pity, vexation, mourning, sadness, tribulation, sorrow, lamentation, solicitude, disquiet of mind, pain, despair, and many other similarfeelings are so too. Under fear are comprehended sloth, shame, terror, cowardice, fainting, confusion, astonishment. In pleasure theycomprehend malevolence--that is, pleased at another'smisfortune--delight, boastfulness, and the like. To lust they associateanger, fury, hatred, enmity, discord, wants, desire, and other feelingsof that kind. 

But they define these in this manner:

VIII. Enviousness (_invidentia_), they say, is a grief arising from theprosperous circumstances of another, which are in no degree injuriousto the person who envies; for where any one grieves at the prosperityof another, by which he is injured, such a one is not properly said toenvy--as when Agamemnon grieves at Hector's success; but where any one, who is in no way hurt by the prosperity of another, is in pain at hissuccess, such a one envies indeed. Now the name "emulation" is taken ina double sense, so that the same word may stand for praise anddispraise: for the imitation of virtue is called emulation (however, that sense of it I shall have no occasion for here, for that carriespraise with it); but emulation is also a term applied to grief atanother's enjoying what I desired to have, and am without. Detraction(and I mean by that, jealousy) is a grief even at another's enjoyingwhat I had a great inclination for. Pity is a grief at the misery ofanother who suffers wrongfully; for no one is moved by pity at thepunishment of a parricide or of a betrayer of his country. Vexation isa pressing grief. Mourning is a grief at the bitter death of one whowas dear to you. Sadness is a grief attended with tears. Tribulation isa painful grief. Sorrow, an excruciating grief. Lamentation, a griefwhere we loudly bewail ourselves. Solicitude, a pensive grief. Trouble, a continued grief. Affliction, a grief that harasses the body. Despair, a grief that excludes all hope of better things to come. But thosefeelings which are included under fear, they define thus: There issloth, which is a dread of some ensuing labor; shame and terror, whichaffect the body--hence blushing attends shame; a paleness, and tremor, and chattering of the teeth attend terror--cowardice, which is anapprehension of some approaching evil; dread, a fear that unhinges themind, whence comes that line of Ennius, Then dread discharged all wisdom from my mind;

fainting is the associate and constant attendant on dread; confusion, afear that drives away all thought; alarm, a continued fear. 

IX. The different species into which they divide pleasure come underthis description; so that malevolence is a pleasure in the misfortunesof another, without any advantage to yourself; delight, a pleasure thatsoothes the mind by agreeable impressions on the ear. What is said ofthe ear may be applied to the sight, to the touch, smell, and taste. All feelings of this kind are a sort of melting pleasure that dissolvesthe mind. Boastfulness is a pleasure that consists in making anappearance, and setting off yourself with insolence. --The subordinatespecies of lust they define in this manner: Anger is a lust ofpunishing any one who, as we imagine, has injured us without cause. Heat is anger just forming and beginning to exist, which the Greekscall [Greek: thymôsis]. Hatred is a settled anger. Enmity is angerwaiting for an opportunity of revenge. Discord is a sharper angerconceived deeply in the mind and heart. Want an insatiable lust. Regretis when one eagerly wishes to see a person who is absent. Now here theyhave a distinction; so that with them regret is a lust conceived onhearing of certain things reported of some one, or of many, which theGreeks call [Greek: katêgorêmata], or predicaments; as that they are inpossession of riches and honors: but want is a lust for those veryhonors and riches. But these definers make intemperance the fountain ofall these perturbations; which is an absolute revolt from the mind andright reason--a state so averse to all rules of reason that theappetites of the mind can by no means be governed and restrained. As, therefore, temperance appeases these desires, making them obey rightreason, and maintains the well-weighed judgments of the mind, sointemperance, which is in opposition to this, inflames, confounds, andputs every state of the mind into a violent motion. Thus, grief andfear, and every other perturbation of the mind, have their rise fromintemperance. 

X. Just as distempers and sickness are bred in the body from thecorruption of the blood, and the too great abundance of phlegm andbile, so the mind is deprived of its health, and disordered withsickness, from a confusion of depraved opinions that are in oppositionto one another. From these perturbations arise, first, diseases, whichthey call [Greek: nosêmata]; and also those feelings which are inopposition to these diseases, and which admit certain faulty distastesor loathings; then come sicknesses, which are called [Greek:arrhôstêmata] by the Stoics, and these two have their oppositeaversions. Here the Stoics, especially Chrysippus, give themselvesunnecessary trouble to show the analogy which the diseases of the mindhave to those of the body: but, overlooking all that they say as oflittle consequence, I shall treat only of the thing itself. Let us, then, understand perturbation to imply a restlessness from the varietyand confusion of contradictory opinions; and that when this heat anddisturbance of the mind is of any standing, and has taken up itsresidence, as it were, in the veins and marrow, then commence diseasesand sickness, and those aversions which are in opposition to thesediseases and sicknesses. 

XI. What I say here may be distinguished in thought, though they are infact the same; inasmuch as they both have their rise from lust and joy. For should money be the object of our desire, and should we notinstantly apply to reason, as if it were a kind of Socratic medicine toheal this desire, the evil glides into our veins, and cleaves to ourbowels, and from thence proceeds a distemper or sickness, which, whenit is of any continuance, is incurable, and the name of this disease iscovetousness. It is the same with other diseases; as the desire ofglory, a passion for women, to which the Greeks give the name of[Greek: philogyneia]: and thus all other diseases and sicknesses aregenerated. But those feelings which are the contrary of these aresupposed to have fear for their foundation, as a hatred of women, suchas is displayed in the Woman-hater of Atilius; or the hatred of thewhole human species, as Timon is reported to have done, whom they callthe Misanthrope. Of the same kind is inhospitality. And all thesediseases proceed from a certain dread of such things as they hate andavoid. But they define sickness of mind to be an overweening opinion, and that fixed and deeply implanted in the heart, of something as verydesirable which is by no means so. What proceeds from aversion, theydefine thus: a vehement idea of something to be avoided, deeplyimplanted, and inherent in our minds, when there is no reason foravoiding it; and this kind of opinion is a deliberate belief that oneunderstands things of which one is wholly ignorant. Now, sickness ofthe mind has all these subordinate divisions: avarice, ambition, fondness for women, obstinacy, gluttony, drunkenness, covetousness, andother similar vices. But avarice is a violent opinion about money, asif it were vehemently to be desired and sought after, which opinion isdeeply implanted and inherent in our minds; and the definition of allthe other similar feelings resembles these. But the definitions ofaversions are of this sort: inhospitality is a vehement opinion, deeplyimplanted and inherent in your mind, that you should avoid a stranger. Thus, too, the hatred of women, like that felt by Hippolytus, isdefined; and the hatred of the human species like that displayed byTimon. 

XII. But to come to the analogy of the state of body and mind, which Ishall sometimes make use of, though more sparingly than the Stoics. Some men are more inclined to particular disorders than others; and, therefore, we say that some people are rheumatic, others dropsical, notbecause they are so at present, but because they are often so: some areinclined to fear, others to some other perturbation. Thus in some thereis a continual anxiety, owing to which they are anxious; in some ahastiness of temper, which differs from anger, as anxiety differs fromanguish: for all are not anxious who are sometimes vexed, nor are theywho are anxious always uneasy in that manner: as there is a differencebetween being drunk and drunkenness; and it is one thing to be a lover, another to be given to women. And this disposition of particular peopleto particular disorders is very common: for it relates to allperturbations; it appears in many vices, though it has no name. Someare, therefore, said to be envious, malevolent, spiteful, fearful, pitiful, from a propensity to those perturbations, not from their beingalways carried away by them. Now this propensity to these particulardisorders may be called a sickness from analogy with the body; meaning, that is to say, nothing more than a propensity towards sickness. Butwith regard to whatever is good, as some are more inclined to differentgood qualities than others, we may call this a facility or tendency:this tendency to evil is a proclivity or inclination to falling; butwhere anything is neither good nor bad, it may have the former name. 

XIII. Even as there may be, with respect to the body, a disease, asickness, and a defect, so it is with the mind. They call that adisease where the whole body is corrupted; they call that sicknesswhere a disease is attended with a weakness, and that a defect wherethe parts of the body are not well compacted together; from whence itfollows that the members are misshapen, crooked, and deformed. So thatthese two, a disease and sickness, proceed from a violent concussionand perturbation of the health of the whole body; but a defectdiscovers itself even when the body is in perfect health. But a diseaseof the mind is distinguishable only in thought from a sickness. But aviciousness is a habit or affection discordant and inconsistent withitself through life. Thus it happens that, in the one case, a diseaseand sickness may arise from a corruption of opinions; in the othercase, the consequence may be inconstancy and inconsistency. For everyvice of the mind does not imply a disunion of parts; as is the casewith those who are not far from being wise men. With them there is thataffection which is inconsistent with itself while it is foolish; but itis not distorted, nor depraved. But diseases and sicknesses are partsof viciousness; but it is a question whether perturbations are parts ofthe same, for vices are permanent affections: perturbations are such asare restless; so that they cannot be parts of permanent ones. As thereis some analogy between the nature of the body and mind in evil, so isthere in good; for the distinctions of the body are beauty, strength, health, firmness, quickness of motion: the same may be said of themind. The body is said to be in a good state when all those things onwhich health depends are consistent: the same may be said of the mindwhen its judgments and opinions are not at variance with one another. And this union is the virtue of the mind, which, according to somepeople, is temperance itself; others make it consist in an obedience tothe precepts of temperance, and a compliance with them, not allowing itto be any distinct species of itself. But, be it one or the other, itis to be found only in a wise man. But there is a certain soundness ofmind, which even a fool may have, when the perturbation of his mind isremoved by the care and management of his physicians. And as what iscalled beauty arises from an exact proportion of the limbs, togetherwith a certain sweetness of complexion, so the beauty of the mindconsists in an equality and constancy of opinions and judgments, joinedto a certain firmness and stability, pursuing virtue, or containingwithin itself the very essence of virtue. Besides, we give the verysame names to the faculties of the mind as we do to the powers of thebody, the nerves, and other powers of action. Thus the velocity of thebody is called swiftness: a praise which we ascribe to the mind, fromits running over in its thoughts so many things in so short a time. 

XIV. Herein, indeed, the mind and body are unlike: that though the mindwhen in perfect health may be visited by sickness, as the body may, yetthe body may be disordered without our fault; the mind cannot. For allthe disorders and perturbations of the mind proceed from a neglect ofreason; these disorders, therefore, are confined to men: the beasts arenot subject to such perturbations, though they act sometimes as if theyhad reason. There is a difference, too, between ingenious and dull men;the ingenious, like the Corinthian brass, which is long before itreceives rust, are longer before they fall into these perturbations, and are recovered sooner: the case is different with the dull. Nor doesthe mind of an ingenious man fall into every kind of perturbation, forit never yields to any that are brutish and savage; and some of theirperturbations have at first even the appearance of humanity, as mercy, grief, and fear. But the sicknesses and diseases of the mind arethought to be harder to eradicate than those leading vices which are inopposition to virtues; for vices may be removed, though the diseases ofthe mind should continue, which diseases are not cured with thatexpedition with which vices are removed. I have now acquainted you withthe arguments which the Stoics put forth with such exactness; whichthey call logic, from their close arguing: and since my discourse hasgot clear of these rocks, I will proceed with the remainder of it, provided I have been sufficiently clear in what I have already said, considering the obscurity of the subject I have treated. 

_A. _ Clear enough; but should there be occasion for a more exactinquiry, I shall take another opportunity of asking you. I expect younow to hoist your sails, as you just now called them, and proceed onyour course. 

XV. _M. _ Since I have spoken before of virtue in other places, andshall often have occasion to speak again (for a great many questionsthat relate to life and manners arise from the spring of virtue); andsince, as I say, virtue consists in a settled and uniform affection ofmind, making those persons praiseworthy who are possessed of her, sheherself also, independent of anything else, without regard to anyadvantage, must be praiseworthy; for from her proceed goodinclinations, opinions, actions, and the whole of right reason; thoughvirtue may be defined in a few words to be right reason itself. Theopposite to this is viciousness (for so I choose to translate what theGreeks call [Greek: kakia], rather than by perverseness; forperverseness is the name of a particular vice; but viciousness includesall), from whence arise those perturbations which, as I just now said, are turbid and violent motions of the mind, repugnant to reason, andenemies in a high degree to the peace of the mind and a tranquil life, for they introduce piercing and anxious cares, and afflict anddebilitate the mind through fear; they violently inflame our heartswith exaggerated appetite, which is in reality an impotence of mind, utterly irreconcilable with temperance and moderation, which wesometimes call desire, and sometimes lust, and which, should it evenattain the object of its wishes, immediately becomes so elated that itloses all its resolution, and knows not what to pursue; so that he wasin the right who said "that exaggerated pleasure was the very greatestof mistakes. " Virtue, then, alone can effect the cure of these evils. 

XVI. For what is not only more miserable, but more base and sordid, than a man afflicted, weakened, and oppressed with grief? And littleshort of this misery is one who dreads some approaching evil, and who, through faintheartedness, is under continual suspense. The poets, toexpress the greatness of this evil, imagine a stone to hang over thehead of Tantalus, as a punishment for his wickedness, his pride, andhis boasting. And this is the common punishment of folly; for therehangs over the head of every one whose mind revolts from reason somesimilar fear. And as these perturbations of the mind, grief and fear, are of a most wasting nature, so those two others, though of a moremerry cast (I mean lust, which is always coveting something witheagerness, and empty mirth, which is an exulting joy), differ verylittle from madness. Hence you may understand what sort of person he iswhom we call at one time moderate, at another modest or temperate, atanother constant and virtuous; while sometimes we include all thesenames in the word frugality, as the crown of all; for if that word didnot include all virtues, it would never have been proverbial to saythat a frugal man does everything rightly. But when the Stoics applythis saying to their wise man, they seem to exalt him too much, and tospeak of him with too much admiration. 

XVII. Whoever, then, through moderation and constancy, is at rest inhis mind, and in calm possession of himself, so as neither to pine withcare, nor be dejected with fear, nor to be inflamed with desire, coveting something greedily, nor relaxed by extravagant mirth--such aman is that identical wise man whom we are inquiring for: he is thehappy man, to whom nothing in this life seems intolerable enough todepress him; nothing exquisite enough to transport him unduly. For whatis there in this life that can appear great to him who has acquaintedhimself with eternity and the utmost extent of the universe? For whatis there in human knowledge, or the short span of this life, that canappear great to a wise man? whose mind is always so upon its guard thatnothing can befall him which is unforeseen, nothing which isunexpected, nothing, in short, which is new. Such a man takes so exacta survey on all sides of him, that he always knows the proper place andspot to live in free from all the troubles and annoyances of life, andencounters every accident that fortune can bring upon him with abecoming calmness. Whoever conducts himself in this manner will be freefrom grief, and from every other perturbation; and a mind free fromthese feelings renders men completely happy; whereas a mind disorderedand drawn off from right and unerring reason loses at once, not onlyits resolution, but its health. --Therefore the thoughts anddeclarations of the Peripatetics are soft and effeminate, for they saythat the mind must necessarily be agitated, but at the same time theylay down certain bounds beyond which that agitation is not to proceed. And do you set bounds to vice? or is it no vice to disobey reason? Doesnot reason sufficiently declare that there is no real good which youshould desire too ardently, or the possession of which you should allowto transport you? and that there is no evil that should be able tooverwhelm you, or the suspicion of which should distract you? and thatall these things assume too melancholy or too cheerful an appearancethrough our own error? But if fools find this error lessened by time, so that, though the cause remains the same, they are not affected, inthe same manner, after some time, as they were at first, why, surely awise man ought not to be influenced at all by it. But what are thosedegrees by which we are to limit it? Let us fix these degrees in grief, a difficult subject, and one much canvassed. --Fannius writes that P. Rutilius took it much to heart that his brother was refused theconsulship; but he seems to have been too much affected by thisdisappointment, for it was the occasion of his death: he ought, therefore, to have borne it with more moderation. But let us supposethat while he was bearing this with moderation, the death of hischildren had intervened; here would have started a fresh grief, which, admitting it to be moderate in itself, yet still must have been a greataddition to the other. Now, to these let us add some acute pains ofbody, the loss of his fortune, blindness, banishment. Supposing, then, each separate misfortune to occasion a separate additional grief, thewhole would be too great to be supportable. 

XVIII. The man who attempts to set bounds to vice acts like one whoshould throw himself headlong from Leucate, persuaded that he couldstop himself whenever he pleased. Now, as that is impossible, so aperturbed and disordered mind cannot restrain itself, and stop where itpleases. Certainly whatever is bad in its increase is bad in its birth. Now grief and all other perturbations are doubtless baneful in theirprogress, and have, therefore, no small share of evil at the beginning;for they go on of themselves when once they depart from reason, forevery weakness is self-indulgent, and indiscreetly launches out, anddoes not know where to stop. So that it makes no difference whether youapprove of moderate perturbations of mind, or of moderate injustice, moderate cowardice, and moderate intemperance; for whoever prescribesbounds to vice admits a part of it, which, as it is odious of itself, becomes the more so as it stands on slippery ground, and, being onceset forward, glides on headlong, and cannot by any means be stopped. 

XIX. Why should I say more? Why should I add that the Peripatetics saythat these perturbations, which we insist upon it should be extirpated, are not only natural, but were given to men by nature for a goodpurpose? They usually talk in this manner. In the first place, they saymuch in praise of anger; they call it the whetstone of courage, andthey say that angry men exert themselves most against an enemy oragainst a bad citizen: that those reasons are of little weight whichare the motives of men who think thus, as--it is a just war; it becomesus to fight for our laws, our liberties, our country: they will allowno force to these arguments unless our courage is warmed by anger. --Nordo they confine their argument to warriors; but their opinion is thatno one can issue any rigid commands without some bitterness and anger. In short, they have no notion of an orator either accusing or evendefending a client without he is spurred on by anger. And though thisanger should not be real, still they think his words and gestures oughtto wear the appearance of it, so that the action of the orator mayexcite the anger of his hearer. And they deny that any man has everbeen seen who does not know what it is to be angry; and they name whatwe call lenity by the bad appellation of indolence. Nor do they commendonly this lust (for anger is, as I defined it above, the lust ofrevenge), but they maintain that kind of lust or desire to be given usby nature for very good purposes, saying that no one can executeanything well but what he is in earnest about. Themistocles used towalk in the public places in the night because he could not sleep; andwhen asked the reason, his answer was, that Miltiades's trophies kepthim awake. Who has not heard how Demosthenes used to watch, who saidthat it gave him pain if any mechanic was up in a morning at his workbefore him? Lastly, they urge that some of the greatest philosopherswould never have made that progress in their studies without someardent desire spurring them on. --We are informed that Pythagoras, Democritus, and Plato visited the remotest parts of the world; for theythought that they ought to go wherever anything was to be learned. Now, it is not conceivable that these things could be effected by anythingbut by the greatest ardor of mind. 

XX. They say that even grief, which we have already said ought to beavoided as a monstrous and fierce beast, was appointed by nature, notwithout some good purpose, in order that men should lament when theyhad committed a fault, well knowing they had exposed themselves tocorrection, rebuke, and ignominy; for they think that those who canbear ignominy and infamy without pain have acquired a complete impunityfor all sorts of crimes; for with them reproach is a stronger checkthan conscience. From whence we have that scene in Afranius borrowedfrom common life; for when the abandoned son saith, "Wretched that Iam!" the severe father replies, Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause. 

And they say the other divisions of sorrow have their use; that pityincites us to hasten to the assistance of others, and to alleviate thecalamities of men who have undeservedly fallen into them; that evenenvy and detraction are not without their use, as when a man sees thatanother person has attained what he cannot, or observes another to beequally successful with himself; that he who should take away fearwould take away all industry in life, which those men exert in thegreatest degree who are afraid of the laws and of the magistrates, whodread poverty, ignominy, death, and pain. But while they argue thus, they allow indeed of these feelings being retrenched, though they denythat they either can or should be plucked up by the roots; so thattheir opinion is that mediocrity is best in everything. When theyreason in this manner, what think you--is what they say worth attendingto or not?

_A. _ I think it is. I wait, therefore, to hear what you will say inreply to them. 

XXI. _M. _ Perhaps I may find something to say; but I will make thisobservation first: do you take notice with what modesty the Academicsbehave themselves? for they speak plainly to the purpose. ThePeripatetics are answered by the Stoics; they have my leave to fight itout, who think myself no otherwise concerned than to inquire for whatmay seem to be most probable. Our present business is, then, to see ifwe can meet with anything in this question which is the probable, forbeyond such approximation to truth as that human nature cannot proceed. The definition of a perturbation, as Zeno, I think, has rightlydetermined it, is thus: That a perturbation is a commotion of the mindagainst nature, in opposition to right reason; or, more briefly, thus, that a perturbation is a somewhat too vehement appetite; and when hesays somewhat too vehement, he means such as is at a greater distancefrom the constant course of nature. What can I say to thesedefinitions? The greater part of them we have from those who disputewith sagacity and acuteness: some of them expressions, indeed, such asthe "ardors of the mind, " and "the whetstones of virtue, " savoring ofthe pomp of rhetoricians. As to the question, if a brave man canmaintain his courage without becoming angry, it may be questioned withregard to the gladiators; though we often observe much resolution evenin them: they meet, converse, they make objections and demands, theyagree about terms, so that they seem calm rather than angry. But let usadmit a man of the name of Placideianus, who was one of that trade, tobe in such a mind, as Lucilius relates of him, If for his blood you thirst, the task be mine; His laurels at my feet he shall resign; Not but I know, before I reach his heart, First on myself a wound he will impart. I hate the man; enraged I fight, and straight In action we had been, but that I wait Till each his sword had fitted to his hand. My rage I scarce can keep within command. 

XXII. But we see Ajax in Homer advancing to meet Hector in battlecheerfully, without any of this boisterous wrath. For he had no soonertaken up his arms than the first step which he made inspired hisassociates with joy, his enemies with fear; so that even Hector, as heis represented by Homer, [49] trembling, condemned himself for havingchallenged him to fight. Yet these heroes conversed together, calmlyand quietly, before they engaged; nor did they show any anger oroutrageous behavior during the combat. Nor do I imagine that Torquatus, the first who obtained this surname, was in a rage when he plunderedthe Gaul of his collar; or that Marcellus's courage at Clastidium wasonly owing to his anger. I could almost swear that Africanus, with whomwe are better acquainted, from our recollection of him being morerecent, was noways inflamed by anger when he covered Alienus Pelignuswith his shield, and drove his sword into the enemy's breast. There maybe some doubt of L. Brutus, whether he was not influenced byextraordinary hatred of the tyrant, so as to attack Aruns with morethan usual rashness; for I observe that they mutually killed each otherin close fight. Why, then, do you call in the assistance of anger?Would courage, unless it began to get furious, lose its energy? What!do you imagine that Hercules, whom the very courage which you would tryto represent as anger raised to heaven, was angry when he engaged theErymanthian boar, or the Nemæan lion? Or was Theseus in a passion whenhe seized on the horns of the Marathonian bull? Take care how you makecourage to depend in the least on rage. For anger is altogetherirrational, and that is not courage which is void of reason. 

XXIII. We ought to hold all things here in contempt; death is to belooked on with indifference; pains and labors must be considered aseasily supportable. And when these sentiments are established onjudgment and conviction, then will that stout and firm courage takeplace; unless you attribute to anger whatever is done with vehemence, alacrity, and spirit. To me, indeed, that very Scipio[50] who was chiefpriest, that favorer of the saying of the Stoics, "That no private mancould be a wise man, " does not seem to be angry with Tiberius Gracchus, even when he left the consul in a hesitating frame of mind, and, thougha private man himself, commanded, with the authority of a consul, thatall who meant well to the republic should follow him. I do not knowwhether I have done anything in the republic that has the appearance ofcourage; but if I have, I certainly did not do it in wrath. Dothanything come nearer madness than anger? And indeed Ennius has welldefined it as the beginning of madness. The changing color, thealteration of our voice, the look of our eyes, our manner of fetchingour breath, the little command we have over our words and actions, howlittle do all these things indicate a sound mind! What can make a worseappearance than Homer's Achilles, or Agamemnon, during the quarrel? Andas to Ajax, anger drove him into downright madness, and was theoccasion of his death. Courage, therefore, does not want the assistanceof anger; it is sufficiently provided, armed, and prepared of itself. We may as well say that drunkenness or madness is of service tocourage, because those who are mad or drunk often do a great manythings with unusual vehemence. Ajax was always brave; but still he wasmost brave when he was in that state of frenzy:

 The greatest feat that Ajax e'er achieved Was, when his single arm the Greeks relieved. Quitting the field; urged on by rising rage, Forced the declining troops again t'engage. 

Shall we say, then, that madness has its use?

XXIV. Examine the definitions of courage: you will find it does notrequire the assistance of passion. Courage is, then, an affection ofmind that endures all things, being itself in proper subjection to thehighest of all laws; or it may be called a firm maintenance of judgmentin supporting or repelling everything that has a formidable appearance, or a knowledge of what is formidable or otherwise, and maintaininginvariably a stable judgment of all such things, so as to bear them ordespise them; or, in fewer words, according to Chrysippus (for theabove definitions are Sphærus's, a man of the first ability as alayer-down of definitions, as the Stoics think. But they are all prettymuch alike: they give us only common notions, some one way, and someanother). But what is Chrysippus's definition? Fortitude, says he, isthe knowledge of all things that are bearable, or an affection of themind which bears and supports everything in obedience to the chief lawof reason without fear. Now, though we should attack these men in thesame manner as Carneades used to do, I fear they are the only realphilosophers; for which of these definitions is there which does notexplain that obscure and intricate notion of courage which every manconceives within himself? And when it is thus explained, what can awarrior, a commander, or an orator want more? And no one can think thatthey will be unable to behave themselves courageously without anger. What! do not even the Stoics, who maintain that all fools are mad, makethe same inferences? for, take away perturbations, especially ahastiness of temper, and they will appear to talk very absurdly. Butwhat they assert is this: they say that all fools are mad, as alldunghills stink; not that they always do so, but stir them, and youwill perceive it. And in like manner, a warm-tempered man is not alwaysin a passion; but provoke him, and you will see him run mad. Now, thatvery warlike anger, which is of such service in war, what is the use ofit to him when he is at home with his wife, children, and family? Isthere, then, anything that a disturbed mind can do better than onewhich is calm and steady? Or can any one be angry without aperturbation of mind? Our people, then, were in the right, who, as allvices depend on our manners, and nothing is worse than a passionatedisposition, called angry men the only morose men. [51]

XXV. Anger is in no wise becoming in an orator, though it is not amissto affect it. Do you imagine that I am angry when in pleading I use anyextraordinary vehemence and sharpness? What! when I write out myspeeches after all is over and past, am I then angry while writing? Ordo you think Æsopus was ever angry when he acted, or Accius was so whenhe wrote? Those men, indeed, act very well, but the orator acts betterthan the player, provided he be really an orator; but, then, they carryit on without passion, and with a composed mind. But what wantonness isit to commend lust! You produce Themistocles and Demosthenes; to theseyou add Pythagoras, Democritus, and Plato. What! do you then callstudies lust? But these studies of the most excellent and admirablethings, such as those were which you bring forward on all occasions, ought to be composed and tranquil; and what kind of philosophers arethey who commend grief, than which nothing is more detestable? Afraniushas said much to this purpose:

 Let him but grieve, no matter what the cause. 

But he spoke this of a debauched and dissolute youth. But we areinquiring into the conduct of a constant and wise man. We may evenallow a centurion or standard-bearer to be angry, or any others, whom, not to explain too far the mysteries of the rhetoricians, I shall notmention here; for to touch the passions, where reason cannot be comeat, may have its use; but my inquiry, as I often repeat, is about awise man. 

XXVI. But even envy, detraction, pity, have their use. Why should youpity rather than assist, if it is in your power to do so? Is it becauseyou cannot be liberal without pity? We should not take sorrows onourselves upon another's account; but we ought to relieve others oftheir grief if we can. But to detract from another's reputation, or torival him with that vicious emulation which resembles an enmity, ofwhat use can that conduct be? Now, envy implies being uneasy atanother's good because one does not enjoy it one's self; but detractionis the being uneasy at another's good, merely because he enjoys it. Howcan it be right that you should voluntarily grieve, rather than takethe trouble of acquiring what you want to have? for it is madness inthe highest degree to desire to be the only one that has any particularhappiness. But who can with correctness speak in praise of a mediocrityof evils? Can any one in whom there is lust or desire be otherwise thanlibidinous or desirous? or can a man who is occupied by anger avoidbeing angry? or can one who is exposed to any vexation escape beingvexed? or if he is under the influence of fear, must he not be fearful?Do we look, then, on the libidinous, the angry, the anxious, and thetimid man, as persons of wisdom, of excellence? of which I could speakvery copiously and diffusely, but I wish to be as concise as possible. And so I will merely say that wisdom is an acquaintance with all divineand human affairs, and a knowledge of the cause of everything. Hence itis that it imitates what is divine, and looks upon all human concernsas inferior to virtue. Did you, then, say that it was your opinion thatsuch a man was as naturally liable to perturbation as the sea isexposed to winds? What is there that can discompose such gravity andconstancy? Anything sudden or unforeseen? How can anything of this kindbefall one to whom nothing is sudden and unforeseen that can happen toman? Now, as to their saying that redundancies should be pared off, andonly what is natural remain, what, I pray you, can be natural which maybe too exuberant?

XXVII. All these assertions proceed from the roots of errors, whichmust be entirely plucked up and destroyed, not pared and amputated. Butas I suspect that your inquiry is not so much respecting the wise manas concerning yourself (for you allow that he is free from allperturbations, and you would willingly be so too yourself), let us seewhat remedies there are which may be applied by philosophy to thediseases of the mind. There is certainly some remedy; nor has naturebeen so unkind to the human race as to have discovered so many thingssalutary to the body, and none which are medicinal to the mind. She haseven been kinder to the mind than to the body; inasmuch as you mustseek abroad for the assistance which the body requires, while the mindhas all that it requires within itself. But in proportion as theexcellency of the mind is of a higher and more divine nature, the morediligence does it require; and therefore reason, when it is wellapplied, discovers what is best, but when it is neglected, it becomesinvolved in many errors. I shall apply, then, all my discourse to you;for though you pretend to be inquiring about the wise man, your inquirymay possibly be about yourself. Various, then, are the cures of thoseperturbations which I have expounded, for every disorder is not to beappeased the same way. One medicine must be applied to the man whomourns, another to the pitiful, another to the person who envies; forthere is this difference to be maintained in all the fourperturbations: we are to consider whether our discourse had better bedirected to perturbations in general, which are a contempt of reason, or a somewhat too vehement appetite; or whether it would be betterapplied to particular descriptions, as, for instance, to fear, lust, and the rest, and whether it appears preferable to endeavor to removethat which has occasioned the grief, or rather to attempt wholly toeradicate every kind of grief. As, should any one grieve that he ispoor, the question is, Would you maintain poverty to be no evil, orwould you contend that a man ought not to grieve at anything? Certainlythis last is the best course; for should you not convince him withregard to poverty, you must allow him to grieve; but if you removegrief by particular arguments, such as I used yesterday, the evil ofpoverty is in some manner removed. 

XXVIII. But any perturbation of the mind of this sort may be, as itwere, wiped away by the method of appeasing the mind, if you succeed inshowing that there is no good in that which has given rise to joy andlust, nor any evil in that which has occasioned fear or grief. Butcertainly the most effectual cure is to be achieved by showing that allperturbations are of themselves vicious, and have nothing natural ornecessary in them. As we see, grief itself is easily softened when wecharge those who grieve with weakness and an effeminate mind; or whenwe commend the gravity and constancy of those who bear calmly whateverbefalls them here, as accidents to which all men are liable; and, indeed, this is generally the feeling of those who look on these asreal evils, but yet think they should be borne with resignation. Oneimagines pleasure to be a good, another money; and yet the one may becalled off from intemperance, the other from covetousness. The othermethod and address, which, at the same time that it removes the falseopinion, withdraws the disorder, has more subtlety in it; but it seldomsucceeds, and is not applicable to vulgar minds, for there are somediseases which that medicine can by no means remove. For, should anyone be uneasy because he is without virtue, without courage, destituteof a sense of duty or honesty, his anxiety proceeds from a real evil;and yet we must apply another method of cure to him, and such a one asall the philosophers, however they may differ about other things, agreein. For they must necessarily agree in this, that commotions of themind in opposition to right reason are vicious; and that even admittingthose things to be evils which occasion fear or grief, and those to begoods which provoke desire or joy, yet that very commotion itself isvicious; for we mean by the expressions magnanimous and brave, one whois resolute, sedate, grave, and superior to everything in this life;but one who either grieves, or fears, or covets, or is transported withpassion, cannot come under that denomination; for these things areconsistent only with those who look on the things of this world asthings with which their minds are unequal to contend. 

XXIX. Wherefore, as I before said, the philosophers have all one methodof cure, so that we need say nothing about what sort of thing that iswhich disturbs the mind, but we must speak only concerning theperturbation itself. Thus, first, with regard to desire itself, whenthe business is only to remove that, the inquiry is not to be, whetherthat thing be good or evil which provokes lust, but the lust itself isto be removed; so that whether whatever is honest is the chief good, orwhether it consists in pleasure, or in both these things together, orin the other three kinds of goods, yet should there be in any one toovehement an appetite for even virtue itself, the whole discourse shouldbe directed to the deterring him from that vehemence. But human nature, when placed in a conspicuous point of view, gives us every argument forappeasing the mind, and, to make this the more distinct, the laws andconditions of life should be explained in our discourse. Therefore, itwas not without reason that Socrates is reported, when Euripides wasexhibiting his play called Orestes, to have repeated the first threeverses of that tragedy--

 What tragic story men can mournful tell, Whate'er from fate or from the gods befell, That human nature can support--[52]

But, in order to persuade those to whom any misfortune has happenedthat they can and ought to bear it, it is very useful to set beforethem an enumeration of other persons who have borne similar calamities. Indeed, the method of appeasing grief was explained in my dispute ofyesterday, and in my book on Consolation, which I wrote in the midst ofmy own grief; for I was not myself so wise a man as to be insensible togrief, and I used this, notwithstanding Chrysippus's advice to thecontrary, who is against applying a medicine to the agitations of themind while they are fresh; but I did it, and committed a violence onnature, that the greatness of my grief might give way to the greatnessof the medicine. 

XXX. But fear borders upon grief, of which I have already said enough;but I must say a little more on that. Now, as grief proceeds from whatis present, so does fear from future evil; so that some have said thatfear is a certain part of grief: others have called fear the harbingerof trouble, which, as it were, introduces the ensuing evil. Now, thereasons that make what is present supportable, make what is to comevery contemptible; for, with regard to both, we should take care to donothing low or grovelling, soft or effeminate, mean or abject. But, notwithstanding we should speak of the inconstancy, imbecility, andlevity of fear itself, yet it is of very great service to speakcontemptuously of those very things of which we are afraid. So that itfell out very well, whether it was by accident or design, that Idisputed the first and second day on death and pain--the two thingsthat are the most dreaded: now, if what I then said was approved of, weare in a great degree freed from fear. And this is sufficient, as faras regards the opinion of evils. 

XXXI. Proceed we now to what are goods--that is to say, to joy anddesire. To me, indeed, one thing alone seems to embrace the question ofall that relates to the perturbations of the mind--the fact, namely, that all perturbations are in our own power; that they are taken upupon opinion, and are voluntary. This error, then, must be got rid of;this opinion must be removed; and, as with regard to imagined evils, weare to make them more supportable, so with respect to goods, we are tolessen the violent effects of those things which are called great andjoyous. But one thing is to be observed, that equally relates both togood and evil: that, should it be difficult to persuade any one thatnone of those things which disturb the mind are to be looked on as goodor evil, yet a different cure is to be applied to different feelings;and the malevolent person is to be corrected by one way of reasoning, the lover by another, the anxious man by another, and the fearful byanother: and it would be easy for any one who pursues the best approvedmethod of reasoning, with regard to good and evil, to maintain that nofool can be affected with joy, as he never can have anything good. But, at present, my discourse proceeds upon the common received notions. Let, then, honors, riches, pleasures, and the rest be the very goodthings which they are imagined to be; yet a too elevated and exultingjoy on the possession of them is unbecoming; just as, though it mightbe allowable to laugh, to giggle would be indecent. Thus, a mindenlarged by joy is as blamable as a contraction of it by grief; andeager longing is a sign of as much levity in desiring as immoderate joyis in possessing; and, as those who are too dejected are said to beeffeminate, so they who are too elated with joy are properly calledvolatile; and as feeling envy is a part of grief, and the being pleasedwith another's misfortune is a kind of joy, both these feelings areusually corrected by showing the wildness and insensibility of them:and as it becomes a man to be cautious, but it is unbecoming in him tobe fearful, so to be pleased is proper, but to be joyful improper. Ihave, in order that I might be the better understood, distinguishedpleasure from joy. I have already said above, that a contraction of themind can never be right, but that an elation of it may; for the joy ofHector in Nævius is one thing--

 'Tis joy indeed to hear my praises sung By you, who are the theme of honor's tongue--

but that of the character in Trabea another: "The kind procuress, allured by my money, will observe my nod, will watch my desires, andstudy my will. If I but move the door with my little finger, instantlyit flies open; and if Chrysis should unexpectedly discover me, she willrun with joy to meet me, and throw herself into my arms. "

Now he will tell you how excellent he thinks this:

 Not even fortune herself is so fortunate. 

XXXII. Any one who attends the least to the subject will be convincedhow unbecoming this joy is. And as they are very shameful who areimmoderately delighted with the enjoyment of venereal pleasures, so arethey very scandalous who lust vehemently after them. And all that whichis commonly called love (and, believe me, I can find out no other nameto call it by) is of such a trivial nature that nothing, I think, is tobe compared to it: of which Cæcilius says, I hold the man of every sense bereaved Who grants not Love to be of Gods the chief: Whose mighty power whate'er is good effects, Who gives to each his beauty and defects: Hence, health and sickness; wit and folly, hence, The God that love and hatred doth dispense!

An excellent corrector of life this same poetry, which thinks thatlove, the promoter of debauchery and vanity, should have a place in thecouncil of the Gods! I am speaking of comedy, which could not subsistat all without our approving of these debaucheries. But what said thatchief of the Argonauts in tragedy?

 My life I owe to honor less than love. 

What, then, are we to say of this love of Medea?--what a train ofmiseries did it occasion! And yet the same woman has the assurance tosay to her father, in another poet, that she had a husband

 Dearer by love than ever fathers were. 

XXXIII. However, we may allow the poets to trifle, in whose fables wesee Jupiter himself engaged in these debaucheries: but let us apply tothe masters of virtue--the philosophers who deny love to be anythingcarnal; and in this they differ from Epicurus, who, I think, is notmuch mistaken. For what is that love of friendship? How comes it thatno one is in love with a deformed young man, or a handsome old one? Iam of opinion that this love of men had its rise from the Gymnastics ofthe Greeks, where these kinds of loves are admissible and permitted;therefore Ennius spoke well:

 The censure of this crime to those is due Who naked bodies first exposed to view. 

Now, supposing them chaste, which I think is hardly possible, they areuneasy and distressed, and the more so because they contain and refrainthemselves. But, to pass over the love of women, where nature hasallowed more liberty, who can misunderstand the poets in their rape ofGanymede, or not apprehend what Laius says, and what he desires, inEuripides? Lastly, what have the principal poets and the most learnedmen published of themselves in their poems and songs? What doth Alcæus, who was distinguished in his own republic for his bravery, write on thelove of young men? And as for Anacreon's poetry, it is wholly on love. But Ibycus of Rhegium appears, from his writings, to have had this lovestronger on him than all the rest. 

XXXIV. Now we see that the loves of all these writers were entirelylibidinous. There have arisen also some among us philosophers (andPlato is at the head of them, whom Dicæarchus blames not withoutreason) who have countenanced love. The Stoics, in truth, say, not onlythat their wise man may be a lover, but they even define love itself asan endeavor to originate friendship out of the appearance of beauty. Now, provided there is any one in the nature of things without desire, without care, without a sigh, such a one may be a lover; for he is freefrom all lust: but I have nothing to say to him, as it is lust of whichI am now speaking. But should there be any love--as there certainlyis--which is but little, or perhaps not at all, short of madness, suchas his is in the Leucadia--

 Should there be any God whose care I am--

it is incumbent on all the Gods to see that he enjoys his amorouspleasure. 

 Wretch that I am!

Nothing is more true, and he says very appropriately, What, are you sane, who at this rate lament?

He seems even to his friends to be out of his senses: then how tragicalhe becomes!

 Thy aid, divine Apollo, I implore, And thine, dread ruler of the wat'ry store! Oh! all ye winds, assist me!

He thinks that the whole world ought to apply itself to help his love:he excludes Venus alone, as unkind to him. 

 Thy aid, O Venus, why should I invoke?

He thinks Venus too much employed in her own lust to have regard toanything else, as if he himself had not said and committed theseshameful things from lust. 

XXXV. Now, the cure for one who is affected in this manner is to showhow light, how contemptible, how very trifling he is in what hedesires; how he may turn his affections to another object, oraccomplish his desires by some other means; or else to persuade himthat he may entirely disregard it: sometimes he is to be led away toobjects of another kind, to study, business, or other differentengagements and concerns: very often the cure is effected by change ofplace, as sick people, that have not recovered their strength, arebenefited by change of air. Some people think an old love may be drivenout by a new one, as one nail drives out another: but, above allthings, the man thus afflicted should be advised what madness love is:for of all the perturbations of the mind, there is not one which ismore vehement; for (without charging it with rapes, debaucheries, adultery, or even incest, the baseness of any of these being veryblamable; not, I say, to mention these) the very perturbation of themind in love is base of itself, for, to pass over all its acts ofdownright madness, what weakness do not those very things which arelooked upon as indifferent argue?

 Affronts and jealousies, jars, squabbles, wars, Then peace again. The man who seeks to fix These restless feelings, and to subjugate Them to some regular law, is just as wise As one who'd try to lay down rules by which Men should go mad. [53]

Now, is not this inconstancy and mutability of mind enough to deter anyone by its own deformity? We are to demonstrate, as was said of everyperturbation, that there are no such feelings which do not consistentirely of opinion and judgment, and are not owing to ourselves. Forif love were natural, all would be in love, and always so, and all lovethe same object; nor would one be deterred by shame, another byreflection, another by satiety. 

XXXVI. Anger, too, when it disturbs the mind any time, leaves no roomto doubt its being madness: by the instigation of which we see suchcontention as this between brothers:

 Where was there ever impudence like thine? Who on thy malice ever could refine?[54]

You know what follows: for abuses are thrown out by these brothers withgreat bitterness in every other verse; so that you may easily know themfor the sons of Atreus, of that Atreus who invented a new punishmentfor his brother:

 I who his cruel heart to gall am bent, Some new, unheard-of torment must invent. 

Now, what were these inventions? Hear Thyestes:

 My impious brother fain would have me eat My children, and thus serves them up for meat. 

To what length now will not anger go? even as far as madness. Thereforewe say, properly enough, that angry men have given up their power, thatis, they are out of the power of advice, reason, and understanding; forthese ought to have power over the whole mind. Now, you should putthose out of the way whom they endeavor to attack till they haverecollected themselves; but what does recollection here imply butgetting together again the dispersed parts of their mind into theirproper place? or else you must beg and entreat them, if they have themeans of revenge, to defer it to another opportunity, till their angercools. But the expression of cooling implies, certainly, that there wasa heat raised in their minds in opposition to reason; from whichconsideration that saying of Archytas is commended, who being somewhatprovoked at his steward, "How would I have treated you, " said he, "if Ihad not been in a passion?"

XXXVII. Where, then, are they who say that anger has its use? Canmadness be of any use? But still it is natural. Can anything be naturalthat is against reason? or how is it, if anger is natural, that oneperson is more inclined to anger than another? or that the lust ofrevenge should cease before it has revenged itself? or that any oneshould repent of what he had done in a passion? as we see thatAlexander the king did, who could scarcely keep his hands from himself, when he had killed his favorite Clytus, so great was his compunction. Now who that is acquainted with these instances can doubt that thismotion of the mind is altogether in opinion and voluntary? for who candoubt that disorders of the mind, such as covetousness and a desire ofglory, arise from a great estimation of those things by which the mindis disordered? from whence we may understand that every perturbation ofthe mind is founded in opinion. And if boldness--that is to say, a firmassurance of mind--is a kind of knowledge and serious opinion nothastily taken up, then diffidence is a fear of an expected andimpending evil; and if hope is an expectation of good, fear must, ofcourse, be an expectation of evil. Thus fear and other perturbationsare evils. Therefore, as constancy proceeds from knowledge, so doesperturbation from error. Now, they who are said to be naturallyinclined to anger, or to pity, or to envy, or to any feeling of thiskind, their minds are constitutionally, as it were, in bad health; yetthey are curable, as the disposition of Socrates is said to have been;for when Zopyrus, who professed to know the character of every one fromhis person, had heaped a great many vices on him in a public assembly, he was laughed at by others, who could perceive no such vices inSocrates; but Socrates kept him in countenance by declaring that suchvices were natural to him, but that he had got the better of them byhis reason. Therefore, as any one who has the appearance of the bestconstitution may yet appear to be naturally rather inclined to someparticular disorder, so different minds may be more particularlyinclined to different diseases. But as to those men who are said to bevicious, not by nature, but their own fault, their vices proceed fromwrong opinions of good and bad things, so that one is more prone thananother to different motions and perturbations. But, just as it is inthe case of the body, an inveterate disease is harder to be got rid ofthan a sudden disorder; and it is more easy to cure a fresh tumor inthe eyes than to remove a defluxion of any continuance. 

XXXVIII. But as the cause of perturbations is now discovered, for allof them arise from the judgment or opinion, or volition, I shall put anend to this discourse. But we ought to be assured, since the boundariesof good and evil are now discovered, as far as they are discoverable byman, that nothing can be desired of philosophy greater or more usefulthan the discussions which we have held these four days. For besidesinstilling a contempt of death, and relieving pain so as to enable mento bear it, we have added the appeasing of grief, than which there isno greater evil to man. For though every perturbation of mind isgrievous, and differs but little from madness, yet we are used to sayof others when they are under any perturbation, as of fear, joy, ordesire, that they are agitated and disturbed; but of those who givethemselves up to grief, that they are miserable, afflicted, wretched, unhappy. So that it doth not seem to be by accident, but with reasonproposed by you, that I should discuss grief, and the otherperturbations separately; for there lies the spring and head of all ourmiseries; but the cure of grief, and of other disorders, is one and thesame in that they are all voluntary, and founded on opinion; we takethem on ourselves because it seems right so to do. Philosophyundertakes to eradicate this error, as the root of all our evils: letus therefore surrender ourselves to be instructed by it, and sufferourselves to be cured; for while these evils have possession of us, wenot only cannot be happy, but cannot be right in our minds. We musteither deny that reason can effect anything, while, on the other hand, nothing can be done right without reason, or else, since philosophydepends on the deductions of reason, we must seek from her, if we wouldbe good or happy, every help and assistance for living well andhappily. 

BOOK V. 

WHETHER VIRTUE ALONE BE SUFFICIENT FOR A HAPPY LIFE. 

I. This fifth day, Brutus, shall put an end to our TusculanDisputations: on which day we discussed your favorite subject. For Iperceive from that book which you wrote for me with the greatestaccuracy, as well as from your frequent conversation, that you areclearly of this opinion, that virtue is of itself sufficient for ahappy life: and though it may be difficult to prove this, on account ofthe many various strokes of fortune, yet it is a truth of such a naturethat we should endeavor to facilitate the proof of it. For among allthe topics of philosophy, there is not one of more dignity orimportance. For as the first philosophers must have had some inducementto neglect everything for the search of the best state of life: surely, the inducement must have been the hope of living happily, whichimpelled them to devote so much care and pains to that study. Now, ifvirtue was discovered and carried to perfection by them, and if virtueis a sufficient security for a happy life, who can avoid thinking thework of philosophizing excellently recommended by them, and undertakenby me? But if virtue, as being subject to such various and uncertainaccidents, were but the slave of fortune, and were not of sufficientability to support herself, I am afraid that it would seem desirablerather to offer up prayers, than to rely on our own confidence invirtue as the foundation for our hope of a happy life. And, indeed, when I reflect on those troubles with which I have been so severelyexercised by fortune, I begin to distrust this opinion; and sometimeseven to dread the weakness and frailty of human nature, for I am afraidlest, when nature had given us infirm bodies, and had joined to themincurable diseases and intolerable pains, she perhaps also gave usminds participating in these bodily pains, and harassed also withtroubles and uneasinesses, peculiarly their own. But here I correctmyself for forming my judgment of the power of virtue more from theweakness of others, or of myself perhaps, than from virtue itself: forshe herself (provided there is such a thing as virtue; and your uncleBrutus has removed all doubt of it) has everything that can befallmankind in subjection to her; and by disregarding such things, she isfar removed from being at all concerned at human accidents; and, beingfree from every imperfection, she thinks that nothing which is externalto herself can concern her. But we, who increase every approaching evilby our fear, and every present one by our grief, choose rather tocondemn the nature of things than our own errors. 

II. But the amendment of this fault, and of all our other vices andoffences, is to be sought for in philosophy: and as my own inclinationand desire led me, from my earliest youth upward, to seek herprotection, so, under my present misfortunes, I have had recourse tothe same port from whence I set out, after having been tossed by aviolent tempest. O Philosophy, thou guide of life! thou discoverer ofvirtue and expeller of vices! what had not only I myself, but the wholelife of man, been without you? To you it is that we owe the origin ofcities; you it was who called together the dispersed race of men intosocial life; you united them together, first, by placing them near oneanother, then by marriages, and lastly, by the communication of speechand languages. You have been the inventress of laws; you have been ourinstructress in morals and discipline; to you we fly for refuge; fromyou we implore assistance; and as I formerly submitted to you in agreat degree, so now I surrender up myself entirely to you. For one dayspent well, and agreeably to your precepts, is preferable to aneternity of error. Whose assistance, then, can be of more service to methan yours, when you have bestowed on us tranquillity of life, andremoved the fear of death? But Philosophy is so far from being praisedas much as she has deserved by mankind, that she is wholly neglected bymost men, and actually evil spoken of by many. Can any person speak illof the parent of life, and dare to pollute himself thus with parricide, and be so impiously ungrateful as to accuse her whom he ought toreverence, even were he less able to appreciate the advantages which hemight derive from her? But this error, I imagine, and this darkness hasspread itself over the minds of ignorant men, from their not being ableto look so far back, and from their not imagining that those men bywhom human life was first improved were philosophers; for though we seephilosophy to have been of long standing, yet the name must beacknowledged to be but modern. 

III. But, indeed, who can dispute the antiquity of philosophy, eitherin fact or name? For it acquired this excellent name from the ancients, by the knowledge of the origin and causes of everything, both divineand human. Thus those seven [Greek: Sophoi], as they were consideredand called by the Greeks, have always been esteemed and called wise menby us; and thus Lycurgus many ages before, in whose time, before thebuilding of this city, Homer is said to have lived, as well as Ulyssesand Nestor in the heroic ages, are all handed down to us by traditionas having really been what they were called, wise men; nor would ithave been said that Atlas supported the heavens, or that Prometheus wasbound to Caucasus, nor would Cepheus, with his wife, his son-in-law, and his daughter have been enrolled among the constellations, but thattheir more than human knowledge of the heavenly bodies had transferredtheir names into an erroneous fable. From whence all who occupiedthemselves in the contemplation of nature were both considered andcalled wise men; and that name of theirs continued to the age ofPythagoras, who is reported to have gone to Phlius, as we find itstated by Heraclides Ponticus, a very learned man, and a pupil ofPlato, and to have discoursed very learnedly and copiously on certainsubjects with Leon, prince of the Phliasii; and when Leon, admiring hisingenuity and eloquence, asked him what art he particularly professed, his answer was, that he was acquainted with no art, but that he was aphilosopher. Leon, surprised at the novelty of the name, inquired whathe meant by the name of philosopher, and in what philosophers differedfrom other men; on which Pythagoras replied, "That the life of manseemed to him to resemble those games which were celebrated with thegreatest possible variety of sports and the general concourse of allGreece. For as in those games there were some persons whose object wasglory and the honor of a crown, to be attained by the performance ofbodily exercises, so others were led thither by the gain of buying andselling, and mere views of profit; but there was likewise one class ofpersons, and they were by far the best, whose aim was neither applausenor profit, but who came merely as spectators through curiosity, toobserve what was done, and to see in what manner things were carried onthere. And thus, said he, we come from another life and nature untothis one, just as men come out of some other city, to some muchfrequented mart; some being slaves to glory, others to money; and thereare some few who, taking no account of anything else, earnestly lookinto the nature of things; and these men call themselves studious ofwisdom, that is, philosophers: and as there it is the most reputableoccupation of all to be a looker-on without making any acquisition, soin life, the contemplating things, and acquainting one's self withthem, greatly exceeds every other pursuit of life. "

IV. Nor was Pythagoras the inventor only of the name, but he enlargedalso the thing itself, and, when he came into Italy after thisconversation at Phlius, he adorned that Greece, which is called GreatGreece, both privately and publicly, with the most excellentinstitutions and arts; but of his school and system I shall, perhaps, find another opportunity to speak. But numbers and motions, and thebeginning and end of all things, were the subjects of the ancientphilosophy down to Socrates, who was a pupil of Archelaus, who had beenthe disciple of Anaxagoras. These made diligent inquiry into themagnitude of the stars, their distances, courses, and all that relatesto the heavens. But Socrates was the first who brought down philosophyfrom the heavens, placed it in cities, introduced it into families, andobliged it to examine into life and morals, and good and evil. And hisdifferent methods of discussing questions, together with the variety ofhis topics, and the greatness of his abilities, being immortalized bythe memory and writings of Plato, gave rise to many sects ofphilosophers of different sentiments, of all which I have principallyadhered to that one which, in my opinion, Socrates himself followed;and argue so as to conceal my own opinion, while I deliver others fromtheir errors, and so discover what has the greatest appearance ofprobability in every question. And the custom Carneades adopted withgreat copiousness and acuteness, and I myself have often given in to iton many occasions elsewhere, and in this manner, too, I disputedlately, in my Tusculan villa; indeed, I have sent you a book of thefour former days' discussions; but the fifth day, when we had seatedourselves as before, what we were to dispute on was proposed thus:

V. _A. _ I do not think virtue can possibly be sufficient for a happylife. 

_M. _ But my friend Brutus thinks so, whose judgment, with submission, Igreatly prefer to yours. 

_A. _ I make no doubt of it; but your regard for him is not the businessnow: the question is now, what is the real character of that quality ofwhich I have declared my opinion. I wish you to dispute on that. 

_M. _ What! do you deny that virtue can possibly be sufficient for ahappy life?

_A. _ It is what I entirely deny. 

_M. _ What! is not virtue sufficient to enable us to live as we ought, honestly, commendably, or, in fine, to live well?

_A. _ Certainly sufficient. 

_M. _ Can you, then, help calling any one miserable who lives ill? orwill you deny that any one who you allow lives well must inevitablylive happily?

_A. _ Why may I not? for a man may be upright in his life, honest, praiseworthy, even in the midst of torments, and therefore live well. Provided you understand what I mean by well; for when I say well, Imean with constancy, and dignity, and wisdom, and courage; for a manmay display all these qualities on the rack; but yet the rack isinconsistent with a happy life. 

_M. _ What, then? is your happy life left on the outside of the prison, while constancy, dignity, wisdom, and the other virtues, aresurrendered up to the executioner, and bear punishment and pain withoutreluctance?

_A. _ You must look out for something new if you would do any good. These things have very little effect on me, not merely from their beingcommon, but principally because, like certain light wines that will notbear water, these arguments of the Stoics are pleasanter to taste thanto swallow. As when that assemblage of virtues is committed to therack, it raises so reverend a spectacle before our eyes that happinessseems to hasten on towards them, and not to suffer them to be desertedby her. But when you take your attention off from this picture andthese images of the virtues to the truth and the reality, what remainswithout disguise is, the question whether any one can be happy intorment? Wherefore let us now examine that point, and not be under anyapprehensions, lest the virtues should expostulate, and complain thatthey are forsaken by happiness. For if prudence is connected with everyvirtue, then prudence itself discovers this, that all good men are nottherefore happy; and she recollects many things of Marcus Atilius[55], Quintus Cæpio[56], Marcus Aquilius[57]; and prudence herself, if theserepresentations are more agreeable to you than the things themselves, restrains happiness when it is endeavoring to throw itself intotorments, and denies that it has any connection with pain and torture. 

VI. _M. _ I can easily bear with your behaving in this manner, though itis not fair in you to prescribe to me how you would have me carry onthis discussion. But I ask you if I have effected anything or nothingin the preceding days?

_A. _ Yes; something was done, some little matter indeed. 

_M. _ But if that is the case, this question is settled, and almost putan end to. 

_A. _ How so?

_M. _ Because turbulent motions and violent agitations of the mind, whenit is raised and elated by a rash impulse, getting the better ofreason, leave no room for a happy life. For who that fears either painor death, the one of which is always present, the other alwaysimpending, can be otherwise than miserable? Now, supposing the sameperson--which is often the case--to be afraid of poverty, ignominy, infamy, or weakness, or blindness, or, lastly, slavery, which doth notonly befall individual men, but often even the most powerful nations;now can any one under the apprehension of these evils be happy? Whatshall we say of him who not only dreads these evils as impending, butactually feels and bears them at present? Let us unite in the sameperson banishment, mourning, the loss of children; now, how can any onewho is broken down and rendered sick in body and mind by suchaffliction be otherwise than very miserable indeed? What reason, again, can there be why a man should not rightly enough be called miserablewhom we see inflamed and raging with lust, coveting everything with aninsatiable desire, and, in proportion as he derives more pleasure fromanything, thirsting the more violently after them? And as to a manvainly elated, exulting with an empty joy, and boasting of himselfwithout reason, is not he so much the more miserable in proportion ashe thinks himself happier? Therefore, as these men are miserable, so, on the other hand, those are happy who are alarmed by no fears, wastedby no griefs, provoked by no lusts, melted by no languid pleasures thatarise from vain and exulting joys. We look on the sea as calm when notthe least breath of air disturbs its waves; and, in like manner, theplacid and quiet state of the mind is discovered when unmoved by anyperturbation. Now, if there be any one who holds the power of fortune, and everything human, everything that can possibly befall any man, assupportable, so as to be out of the reach of fear or anxiety, and ifsuch a man covets nothing, and is lifted up by no vain joy of mind, what can prevent his being happy? And if these are the effects ofvirtue, why cannot virtue itself make men happy?

VII. _A. _ But the other of these two propositions is undeniable, thatthey who are under no apprehensions, who are noways uneasy, who covetnothing, who are lifted up by no vain joy, are happy: and therefore Igrant you that. But as for the other, that is not now in a fit statefor discussion; for it has been proved by your former arguments that awise man is free from every perturbation of mind. 

_M. _ Doubtless, then, the dispute is over; for the question appears tohave been entirely exhausted. 

_A. _ I think, indeed, that that is almost the case. 

_M. _ But yet that is more usually the case with the mathematicians thanphilosophers. For when the geometricians teach anything, if what theyhave before taught relates to their present subject, they take that forgranted which has been already proved, and explain only what they hadnot written on before. But the philosophers, whatever subject they havein hand, get together everything that relates to it, notwithstandingthey may have dilated on it somewhere else. Were not that the case, whyshould the Stoics say so much on that question, Whether virtue wasabundantly sufficient to a happy life? when it would have been answerenough that they had before taught that nothing was good but what washonorable; for, as this had been proved, the consequence must be thatvirtue was sufficient to a happy life; and each premise may be made tofollow from the admission of the other, so that if it be admitted thatvirtue is sufficient to secure a happy life, it may also be inferredthat nothing is good except what is honorable. They, however, do notproceed in this manner; for they would separate books about what ishonorable, and what is the chief good; and when they have demonstratedfrom the one that virtue has power enough to make life happy, yet theytreat this point separately; for everything, and especially a subjectof such great consequence, should be supported by arguments andexhortations which belong to that alone. For you should have a care howyou imagine philosophy to have uttered anything more noble, or that shehas promised anything more fruitful or of greater consequence, for, good Gods! doth she not engage that she will render him who submits toher laws so accomplished as to be always armed against fortune, and tohave every assurance within himself of living well and happily--that heshall, in short, be forever happy? But let us see what she willperform? In the mean while, I look upon it as a great thing that shehas even made such a promise. For Xerxes, who was loaded with all therewards and gifts of fortune, not satisfied with his armies of horseand foot, nor the multitude of his ships, nor his infinite treasure ofgold, offered a reward to any one who could find out a new pleasure;and yet, when it was discovered, he was not satisfied with it; nor canthere ever be an end to lust. I wish we could engage any one by areward to produce something the better to establish us in this belief. 

VIII. _A. _ I wish that, indeed, myself; but I want a littleinformation. For I allow that in what you have stated the oneproposition is the consequence of the other; that as, if what ishonorable be the only good, it must follow that a happy life is theeffect of virtue: so that if a happy life consists in virtue, nothingcan be good but virtue. But your friend Brutus, on the authority ofAristo and Antiochus, does not see this; for he thinks the case wouldbe the same even if there were anything good besides virtue. 

_M. _ What, then? do you imagine that I am going to argue againstBrutus?

_A. _ You may do what you please; for it is not for me to prescribe whatyou shall do. 

_M. _ How these things agree together shall be examined somewhere else;for I frequently discussed that point with Antiochus, and lately withAristo, when, during the period of my command as general, I was lodgingwith him at Athens. For to me it seemed that no one could possibly behappy under any evil; but a wise man might be afflicted with evil, ifthere are any things arising from body or fortune deserving the name ofevils. These things were said, which Antiochus has inserted in hisbooks in many places--that virtue itself was sufficient to make lifehappy, but yet not perfectly happy; and that many things derive theirnames from the predominant portion of them, though they do not includeeverything, as strength, health, riches, honor, and glory: whichqualities are determined by their kind, not their number. Thus a happylife is so called from its being so in a great degree, even though itshould fall short in some point. To clear this up is not absolutelynecessary at present, though it seems to be said without any greatconsistency; for I cannot imagine what is wanting to one that is happyto make him happier, for if anything be wanting to him, he cannot be somuch as happy; and as to what they say, that everything is named andestimated from its predominant portion, that may be admitted in somethings. But when they allow three kinds of evils--when any one isoppressed with every imaginable evil of two kinds, being afflicted withadverse fortune, and having at the same time his body worn out andharassed with all sorts of pains--shall we say that such a one is butlittle short of a happy life, to say nothing about the happiestpossible life?

IX. This is the point which Theophrastus was unable to maintain; forafter he had once laid down the position that stripes, torments, tortures, the ruin of one's country, banishment, the loss of children, had great influence on men's living miserably and unhappily, he durstnot any longer use any high and lofty expressions when he was so lowand abject in his opinion. How right he was is not the question; hecertainly was consistent. Therefore, I am not for objecting toconsequences where the premises are admitted. But this most elegant andlearned of all the philosophers is not taken to task very severely whenhe asserts his three kinds of good; but he is attacked by every one forthat book which he wrote on a happy life, in which book he has manyarguments why one who is tortured and racked cannot be happy. For inthat book he is supposed to say that a man who is placed on the wheel(that is a kind of torture in use among the Greeks) cannot attain to acompletely happy life. He nowhere, indeed, says so absolutely; but whathe says amounts to the same thing. Can I, then, find fault with him, after having allowed that pains of the body are evils, that the ruin ofa man's fortunes is an evil, if he should say that every good man isnot happy, when all those things which he reckons as evils may befall agood man? The same Theophrastus is found fault with by all the booksand schools of the philosophers for commending that sentence in hisCallisthenes, Fortune, not wisdom, rules the life of man. 

They say never did philosopher assert anything so languid. They areright, indeed, in that; but I do not apprehend anything could be moreconsistent, for if there are so many good things that depend on thebody, and so many foreign to it that depend on chance and fortune, isit inconsistent to say that fortune, which governs everything, bothwhat is foreign and what belongs to the body, has greater power thancounsel. Or would we rather imitate Epicurus? who is often excellent inmany things which he speaks, but quite indifferent how consistent hemay be, or how much to the purpose he is speaking. He commends sparediet, and in that he speaks as a philosopher; but it is for Socrates orAntisthenes to say so, and not for one who confines all good topleasure. He denies that any one can live pleasantly unless he liveshonestly, wisely, and justly. Nothing is more dignified than thisassertion, nothing more becoming a philosopher, had he not measuredthis very expression of living honestly, justly, and wisely bypleasure. What could be better than to assert that fortune interferesbut little with a wise man? But does he talk thus, who, after he hassaid that pain is the greatest evil, or the only evil, might himself beafflicted with the sharpest pains all over his body, even at the timehe is vaunting himself the most against fortune? And this very thing, too, Metrodorus has said, but in better language: "I have anticipatedyou, Fortune; I have caught you, and cut off every access, so that youcannot possibly reach me. " This would be excellent in the mouth ofAristo the Chian, or Zeno the Stoic, who held nothing to be an evil butwhat was base; but for you, Metrodorus, to anticipate the approaches offortune, who confine all that is good to your bowels and marrow--foryou to say so, who define the chief good by a strong constitution ofbody, and well-assured hope of its continuance--for you to cut offevery access of fortune! Why, you may instantly be deprived of thatgood. Yet the simple are taken with these propositions, and a vastcrowd is led away by such sentences to become their followers. 

X. But it is the duty of one who would argue accurately to consider notwhat is said, but what is said consistently. As in that very opinionwhich we have adopted in this discussion, namely, that every good manis always happy, it is clear what I mean by good men: I call those bothwise and good men who are provided and adorned with every virtue. Letus see, then, who are to be called happy. I imagine, indeed, that thosemen are to be called so who are possessed of good without any alloy ofevil; nor is there any other notion connected with the word thatexpresses happiness but an absolute enjoyment of good without any evil. Virtue cannot attain this, if there is anything good besides itself. For a crowd of evils would present themselves, if we were to allowpoverty, obscurity, humility, solitude, the loss of friends, acutepains of the body, the loss of health, weakness, blindness, the ruin ofone's country, banishment, slavery, to be evils; for a wise man may beafflicted by all these evils, numerous and important as they are, andmany others also may be added, for they are brought on by chance, whichmay attack a wise man; but if these things are evils, who can maintainthat a wise man is always happy when all these evils may light on himat the same time? I therefore do not easily agree with my friendBrutus, nor with our common masters, nor those ancient ones, Aristotle, Speusippus, Xenocrates, Polemon, who reckon all that I have mentionedabove as evils, and yet they say that a wise man is always happy; norcan I allow them, because they are charmed with this beautiful andillustrious title, which would very well become Pythagoras, Socrates, and Plato, to persuade my mind that strength, health, beauty, riches, honors, power, with the beauty of which they are ravished, arecontemptible, and that all those things which are the opposites ofthese are not to be regarded. Then might they declare openly, with aloud voice, that neither the attacks of fortune, nor the opinion of themultitude, nor pain, nor poverty, occasions them any apprehensions; andthat they have everything within themselves, and that there is nothingwhatever which they consider as good but what is within their ownpower. Nor can I by any means allow the same person who falls into thevulgar opinion of good and evil to make use of these expressions, whichcan only become a great and exalted man. Struck with which glory, upstarts Epicurus, who, with submission to the Gods, thinks a wise manalways happy. He is much charmed with the dignity of this opinion, buthe never would have owned that, had he attended to himself; for what isthere more inconsistent than for one who could say that pain was thegreatest or the only evil to think also that a wise man can possiblysay in the midst of his torture, How sweet is this! We are not, therefore, to form our judgment of philosophers from detachedsentences, but from their consistency with themselves, and theirordinary manner of talking. 

XI. _A. _ You compel me to be of your opinion; but have a care that youare not inconsistent yourself. 

_M. _ In what respect?

_A. _ Because I have lately read your fourth book on Good and Evil: andin that you appeared to me, while disputing against Cato, to beendeavoring to show, which in my opinion means to prove, that Zeno andthe Peripatetics differ only about some new words; but if we allowthat, what reason can there be, if it follows from the arguments ofZeno that virtue contains all that is necessary to a happy life, thatthe Peripatetics should not be at liberty to say the same? For, in myopinion, regard should be had to the thing, not to words. 

_M. _ What! you would convict me from my own words, and bring against mewhat I had said or written elsewhere. You may act in that manner withthose who dispute by established rules. We live from hand to mouth, andsay anything that strikes our mind with probability, so that we are theonly people who are really at liberty. But, since I just now spoke ofconsistency, I do not think the inquiry in this place is, if theopinion of Zeno and his pupil Aristo be true that nothing is good butwhat is honorable; but, admitting that, then, whether the whole of ahappy life can be rested on virtue alone. Wherefore, if we certainlygrant Brutus this, that a wise man is always happy, how consistent heis, is his own business; for who, indeed, is more worthy than himselfof the glory of that opinion? Still, we may maintain that such a man ismore happy than any one else. 

XII. Though Zeno the Cittiæan, a stranger and an inconsiderable coinerof words, appears to have insinuated himself into the old philosophy;still, the prevalence of this opinion is due to the authority of Plato, who often makes use of this expression, "That nothing but virtue can beentitled to the name of good, " agreeably to what Socrates says inPlato's Gorgias; for it is there related that when some one asked himif he did not think Archelaus the son of Perdiccas, who was then lookedupon as a most fortunate person, a very happy man, "I do not know, "replied he, "for I never conversed with him. " "What! is there no otherway you can know it by?" "None at all. " "You cannot, then, pronounce ofthe great king of the Persians whether he is happy or not?" "How can I, when I do not know how learned or how good a man he is?" "What! do youimagine that a happy life depends on that?" "My opinion entirely is, that good men are happy, and the wicked miserable. " "Is Archelaus, then, miserable?" "Certainly, if unjust. " Now, does it not appear toyou that he is here placing the whole of a happy life in virtue alone?But what does the same man say in his funeral oration? "For, " saith he, "whoever has everything that relates to a happy life so entirelydependent on himself as not to be connected with the good or badfortune of another, and not to be affected by, or made in any degreeuncertain by, what befalls another; and whoever is such a one hasacquired the best rule of living; he is that moderate, that brave, thatwise man, who submits to the gain and loss of everything, andespecially of his children, and obeys that old precept; for he willnever be too joyful or too sad, because he depends entirely uponhimself. "

XIII. From Plato, therefore, all my discourse shall be deduced, as iffrom some sacred and hallowed fountain. Whence can I, then, moreproperly begin than from Nature, the parent of all? For whatsoever sheproduces (I am not speaking only of animals, but even of those thingswhich have sprung from the earth in such a manner as to rest on theirown roots) she designed it to be perfect in its respective kind. Sothat among trees and vines, and those lower plants and trees whichcannot advance themselves high above the earth, some are evergreen, others are stripped of their leaves in winter, and, warmed by thespring season, put them out afresh, and there are none of them but whatare so quickened by a certain interior motion, and their own seedsenclosed in every one, so as to yield flowers, fruit, or berries, thatall may have every perfection that belongs to it; provided no violenceprevents it. But the force of Nature itself may be more easilydiscovered in animals, as she has bestowed sense on them. For someanimals she has taught to swim, and designed to be inhabitants of thewater; others she has enabled to fly, and has willed that they shouldenjoy the boundless air; some others she has made to creep, others towalk. Again, of these very animals, some are solitary, some gregarious, some wild, others tame, some hidden and buried beneath the earth, andevery one of these maintains the law of nature, confining itself towhat was bestowed on it, and unable to change its manner of life. Andas every animal has from nature something that distinguishes it, whichevery one maintains and never quits; so man has something far moreexcellent, though everything is said to be excellent by comparison. Butthe human mind, being derived from the divine reason, can be comparedwith nothing but with the Deity itself, if I may be allowed theexpression. This, then, if it is improved, and when its perception isso preserved as not to be blinded by errors, becomes a perfectunderstanding, that is to say, absolute reason, which is the very sameas virtue. And if everything is happy which wants nothing, and iscomplete and perfect in its kind, and that is the peculiar lot ofvirtue, certainly all who are possessed of virtue are happy. And inthis I agree with Brutus, and also with Aristotle, Xenocrates, Speusippus, Polemon. 

XIV. To me such are the only men who appear completely happy; for whatcan he want to a complete happy life who relies on his own goodqualities, or how can he be happy who does not rely on them? But he whomakes a threefold division of goods must necessarily be diffident, forhow can he depend on having a sound body, or that his fortune shallcontinue? But no one can be happy without an immovable, fixed, andpermanent good. What, then, is this opinion of theirs? So that I thinkthat saying of the Spartan may be applied to them, who, on somemerchant's boasting before him that he had despatched ships to everymaritime coast, replied that a fortune which depended on ropes was notvery desirable. Can there be any doubt that whatever may be lost cannotbe properly classed in the number of those things which complete ahappy life? for of all that constitutes a happy life, nothing willadmit of withering, or growing old, or wearing out, or decaying; forwhoever is apprehensive of any loss of these things cannot be happy:the happy man should be safe, well fenced, well fortified, out of thereach of all annoyance, not like a man under trifling apprehensions, but free from all such. As he is not called innocent who but slightlyoffends, but he who offends not at all, so it is he alone who is to beconsidered without fear who is free from all fear, not he who is but inlittle fear. For what else is courage but an affection of mind that isready to undergo perils, and patient in the endurance of pain and laborwithout any alloy of fear? Now, this certainly could not be the case ifthere were anything else good but what depended on honesty alone. Buthow can any one be in possession of that desirable and much-covetedsecurity (for I now call a freedom from anxiety a security, on whichfreedom a happy life depends) who has, or may have, a multitude ofevils attending him? How can he be brave and undaunted, and holdeverything as trifles which can befall a man? for so a wise man shoulddo, unless he be one who thinks that everything depends on himself. Could the Lacedæmonians without this, when Philip threatened to preventall their attempts, have asked him if he could prevent their killingthemselves? Is it not easier, then, to find one man of such a spirit aswe are inquiring after, than to meet with a whole city of such men?Now, if to this courage I am speaking of we add temperance, that it maygovern all our feelings and agitations, what can be wanting to completehis happiness who is secured by his courage from uneasiness and fear, and is prevented from immoderate desires and immoderate insolence ofjoy by temperance? I could easily show that virtue is able to producethese effects, but that I have explained on the foregoing days. 

XV. But as the perturbations of the mind make life miserable, andtranquillity renders it happy; and as these perturbations are of twosorts, grief and fear, proceeding from imagined evils, and asimmoderate joy and lust arise from a mistake about what is good, and asall these feelings are in opposition to reason and counsel; when yousee a man at ease, quite free and disengaged from such troublesomecommotions, which are so much at variance with one another, can youhesitate to pronounce such a one a happy man? Now, the wise man isalways in such a disposition; therefore the wise man is always happy. Besides, every good is pleasant; whatever is pleasant may be boastedand talked of; whatever may be boasted of is glorious; but whatever isglorious is certainly laudable, and whatever is laudable doubtless, also, honorable: whatever, then, is good is honorable (but the thingswhich they reckon as goods they themselves do not call honorable);therefore what is honorable alone is good. Hence it follows that ahappy life is comprised in honesty alone. Such things, then, are not tobe called or considered goods, when a man may enjoy an abundance ofthem, and yet be most miserable. Is there any doubt but that a man whoenjoys the best health, and who has strength and beauty, and his sensesflourishing in their utmost quickness and perfection--suppose himlikewise, if you please, nimble and active, nay, give him riches, honors, authority, power, glory--now, I say, should this person, who isin possession of all these, be unjust, intemperate, timid, stupid, oran idiot--could you hesitate to call such a one miserable? What, then, are those goods in the possession of which you may be very miserable?Let us see if a happy life is not made up of parts of the same nature, as a heap implies a quantity of grain of the same kind. And if this beonce admitted, happiness must be compounded of different good things, which alone are honorable; if there is any mixture of things of anothersort with these, nothing honorable can proceed from such a composition:now, take away honesty, and how can you imagine anything happy? Forwhatever is good is desirable on that account; whatever is desirablemust certainly be approved of; whatever you approve of must be lookedon as acceptable and welcome. You must consequently impute dignity tothis; and if so, it must necessarily be laudable: therefore, everythingthat is laudable is good. Hence it follows that what is honorable isthe only good. And should we not look upon it in this light, there willbe a great many things which we must call good. 

XVI. I forbear to mention riches, which, as any one, let him be ever sounworthy, may have them, I do not reckon among goods; for what is goodis not attainable by all. I pass over notoriety and popular fame, raised by the united voice of knaves and fools. Even things which areabsolute nothings may be called goods; such as white teeth, handsomeeyes, a good complexion, and what was commended by Euryclea, when shewas washing Ulysses's feet, the softness of his skin and the mildnessof his discourse. If you look on these as goods, what greater encomiumscan the gravity of a philosopher be entitled to than the wild opinionof the vulgar and the thoughtless crowd? The Stoics give the name ofexcellent and choice to what the others call good: they call them so, indeed; but they do not allow them to complete a happy life. But theseothers think that there is no life happy without them; or, admitting itto be happy, they deny it to be the most happy. But our opinion is, that it is the most happy; and we prove it from that conclusion ofSocrates. For thus that author of philosophy argued: that as thedisposition of a man's mind is, so is the man; such as the man is, suchwill be his discourse; his actions will correspond with his discourse, and his life with his actions. But the disposition of a good man's mindis laudable; the life, therefore, of a good man is laudable; it ishonorable, therefore, because laudable; the unavoidable conclusion fromwhich is that the life of good men is happy. For, good Gods! did I notmake it appear, by my former arguments--or was I only amusing myselfand killing time in what I then said?--that the mind of a wise man wasalways free from every hasty motion which I call a perturbation, andthat the most undisturbed peace always reigned in his breast? A man, then, who is temperate and consistent, free from fear or grief, anduninfluenced by any immoderate joy or desire, cannot be otherwise thanhappy; but a wise man is always so, therefore he is always happy. Moreover, how can a good man avoid referring all his actions and allhis feelings to the one standard of whether or not it is laudable? Buthe does refer everything to the object of living happily: it follows, then, that a happy life is laudable; but nothing is laudable withoutvirtue: a happy life, then, is the consequence of virtue. And this isthe unavoidable conclusion to be drawn from these arguments. 

XVII. A wicked life has nothing which we ought to speak of or glory in;nor has that life which is neither happy nor miserable. But there is akind of life that admits of being spoken of, and gloried in, andboasted of, as Epaminondas saith, The wings of Sparta's pride my counsels clipp'd. 

And Africanus boasts, Who, from beyond Mæotis to the place Where the sun rises, deeds like mine can trace?

If, then, there is such a thing as a happy life, it is to be gloriedin, spoken of, and commended by the person who enjoys it; for there isnothing excepting that which can be spoken of or gloried in; and whenthat is once admitted, you know what follows. Now, unless an honorablelife is a happy life, there must, of course, be something preferable toa happy life; for that which is honorable all men will certainly grantto be preferable to anything else. And thus there will be somethingbetter than a happy life: but what can be more absurd than such anassertion? What! when they grant vice to be effectual to the renderinglife miserable, must they not admit that there is a corresponding powerin virtue to make life happy? For contraries follow from contraries. And here I ask what weight they think there is in the balance ofCritolaus, who having put the goods of the mind into one scale, and thegoods of the body and other external advantages into the other, thoughtthe goods of the mind outweighed the others so far that they wouldrequire the whole earth and sea to equalize the scale. 

XVIII. What hinders Critolaus, then, or that gravest of philosophers, Xenocrates (who raises virtue so high, and who lessens and depreciateseverything else), from not only placing a happy life, but the happiestpossible life, in virtue? And, indeed, if this were not the case, virtue would be absolutely lost. For whoever is subject to grief mustnecessarily be subject to fear too, for fear is an uneasy apprehensionof future grief; and whoever is subject to fear is liable to dread, timidity, consternation, cowardice. Therefore, such a person may, sometime or other, be defeated, and not think himself concerned with thatprecept of Atreus, And let men so conduct themselves in life, As to be always strangers to defeat. 

But such a man, as I have said, will be defeated; and not onlydefeated, but made a slave of. But we would have virtue always free, always invincible; and were it not so, there would be an end of virtue. But if virtue has in herself all that is necessary for a good life, sheis certainly sufficient for happiness: virtue is certainly sufficient, too, for our living with courage; if with courage, then with amagnanimous spirit, and indeed so as never to be under any fear, andthus to be always invincible. Hence it follows that there can benothing to be repented of, no wants, no lets or hinderances. Thus allthings will be prosperous, perfect, and as you would have them, and, consequently, happy; but virtue is sufficient for living with courage, and therefore virtue is able by herself to make life happy. For asfolly, even when possessed of what it desires, never thinks it hasacquired enough, so wisdom is always satisfied with the present, andnever repents on her own account. 

XIX. Look but on the single consulship of Lælius, and that, too, afterhaving been set aside (though when a wise and good man like him isoutvoted, the people are disappointed of a good consul, rather than bedisappointed by a vain people); but the point is, would you prefer, were it in your power, to be once such a consul as Lælius, or beelected four times, like Cinna? I have no doubt in the world whatanswer you will make, and it is on that account I put the question toyou. 

I would not ask every one this question; for some one perhaps mightanswer that he would not only prefer four consulates to one, but evenone day of Cinna's life to whole ages of many famous men. Lælius wouldhave suffered had he but touched any one with his finger; but Cinnaordered the head of his colleague consul, Cn. Octavius, to be struckoff; and put to death P. Crassus[58], and L. Cæsar[59], those excellentmen, so renowned both at home and abroad; and even M. Antonius[60], thegreatest orator whom I ever heard; and C. Cæsar, who seems to me tohave been the pattern of humanity, politeness, sweetness of temper, andwit. Could he, then, be happy who occasioned the death of these men? Sofar from it, that he seems to be miserable, not only for havingperformed these actions, but also for acting in such a manner that itwas lawful for him to do it, though it is unlawful for any one to dowicked actions; but this proceeds from inaccuracy, of speech, for wecall whatever a man is allowed to do lawful. Was not Marius happier, Ipray you, when he shared the glory of the victory gained over theCimbrians with his colleague Catulus (who was almost another Lælius;for I look upon the two men as very like one another), than when, conqueror in the civil war, he in a passion answered the friends ofCatulus, who were interceding for him, "Let him die?" And this answerhe gave, not once only, but often. But in such a case, he was happierwho submitted to that barbarous decree than he who issued it. And it isbetter to receive an injury than to do one; and so it was better toadvance a little to meet that death that was making its approaches, asCatulus did, than, like Marius, to sully the glory of six consulships, and disgrace his latter days, by the death of such a man. 

XX. Dionysius exercised his tyranny over the Syracusans thirty-eightyears, being but twenty-five years old when he seized on thegovernment. How beautiful and how wealthy a city did he oppress withslavery! And yet we have it from good authority that he was remarkablytemperate in his manner of living, that he was very active andenergetic in carrying on business, but naturally mischievous andunjust; from which description every one who diligently inquires intotruth must inevitably see that he was very miserable. Neither did heattain what he so greatly desired, even when he was persuaded that hehad unlimited power; for, notwithstanding he was of a good family andreputable parents (though that is contested by some authors), and had avery large acquaintance of intimate friends and relations, and alsosome youths attached to him by ties of love after the fashion of theGreeks, he could not trust any one of them, but committed the guard ofhis person to slaves, whom he had selected from rich men's families andmade free, and to strangers and barbarians. And thus, through an unjustdesire of governing, he in a manner shut himself up in a prison. Besides, he would not trust his throat to a barber, but had hisdaughters taught to shave; so that these royal virgins were forced todescend to the base and slavish employment of shaving the head andbeard of their father. Nor would he trust even them, when they weregrown up, with a razor; but contrived how they might burn off the hairof his head and beard with red-hot nutshells. And as to his two wives, Aristomache, his countrywoman, and Doris of Locris, he never visitedthem at night before everything had been well searched and examined. And as he had surrounded the place where his bed was with a broadditch, and made a way over it with a wooden bridge, he drew that bridgeover after shutting his bedchamber door. And as he did not dare tostand on the ordinary pulpits from which they usually harangued thepeople, he generally addressed them from a high tower. And it is saidthat when he was disposed to play at ball--for he delighted much init--and had pulled off his clothes, he used to give his sword into thekeeping of a young man whom he was very fond of. On this, one of hisintimates said pleasantly, "You certainly trust your life with him;"and as the young man happened to smile at this, he ordered them both tobe slain, the one for showing how he might be taken off, the other forapproving of what had been said by smiling. But he was so concerned atwhat he had done that nothing affected him more during his whole life;for he had slain one to whom he was extremely partial. Thus do weakmen's desires pull them different ways, and while they indulge one, they act counter to another. 

XXI. This tyrant, however, showed himself how happy he really was; foronce, when Damocles, one of his flatterers, was dilating inconversation on his forces, his wealth, the greatness of his power, theplenty he enjoyed, the grandeur of his royal palaces, and maintainingthat no one was ever happier, "Have you an inclination, " said he, "Damocles, as this kind of life pleases you, to have a taste of ityourself, and to make a trial of the good fortune that attends me?" Andwhen he said that he should like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him tobe laid on a bed of gold with the most beautiful covering, embroideredand wrought with the most exquisite work, and he dressed out a greatmany sideboards with silver and embossed gold. He then ordered someyouths, distinguished for their handsome persons, to wait at his table, and to observe his nod, in order to serve him with what he wanted. There were ointments and garlands; perfumes were burned; tablesprovided with the most exquisite meats. Damocles thought himself veryhappy. In the midst of this apparatus, Dionysius ordered a bright swordto be let down from the ceiling, suspended by a single horse-hair, soas to hang over the head of that happy man. After which he neither casthis eye on those handsome waiters, nor on the well-wrought plate; nortouched any of the provisions: presently the garlands fell to pieces. At last he entreated the tyrant to give him leave to go, for that nowhe had no desire to be happy[61]. Does not Dionysius, then, seem tohave declared there can be no happiness for one who is under constantapprehensions? But it was not now in his power to return to justice, and restore his citizens their rights and privileges; for, by theindiscretion of youth, he had engaged in so many wrong steps andcommitted such extravagances, that, had he attempted to have returnedto a right way of thinking, he must have endangered his life. 

XXII. Yet, how desirous he was of friendship, though at the same timehe dreaded the treachery of friends, appears from the story of thosetwo Pythagoreans: one of these had been security for his friend, whowas condemned to die; the other, to release his security, presentedhimself at the time appointed for his dying: "I wish, " said Dionysius, "you would admit me as the third in your friendship. " What misery was itfor him to be deprived of acquaintance, of company at his table, and ofthe freedom of conversation! especially for one who was a man oflearning, and from his childhood acquainted with liberal arts, veryfond of music, and himself a tragic poet--how good a one is not to thepurpose, for I know not how it is, but in this way, more than anyother, every one thinks his own performances excellent. I never as yetknew any poet (and I was very intimate with Aquinius), who did notappear to himself to be very admirable. The case is this: you arepleased with your own works; I like mine. But to return to Dionysius. He debarred himself from all civil and polite conversation, and spenthis life among fugitives, bondmen, and barbarians; for he was persuadedthat no one could be his friend who was worthy of liberty, or had theleast desire of being free. 

XXIII. Shall I not, then, prefer the life of Plato and Archytas, manifestly wise and learned men, to his, than which nothing canpossibly be more horrid, or miserable, or detestable?

I will present you with an humble and obscure mathematician of the samecity, called Archimedes, who lived many years after; whose tomb, overgrown with shrubs and briers, I in my quæstorship discovered, whenthe Syracusans knew nothing of it, and even denied that there was anysuch thing remaining; for I remembered some verses, which I had beeninformed were engraved on his monument, and these set forth that on thetop of the tomb there was placed a sphere with a cylinder. When I hadcarefully examined all the monuments (for there are a great many tombsat the gate Achradinæ), I observed a small column standing out a littleabove the briers, with the figure of a sphere and a cylinder upon it;whereupon I immediately said to the Syracusans--for there were some oftheir principal men with me there--that I imagined that was what I wasinquiring for. Several men, being sent in with scythes, cleared theway, and made an opening for us. When we could get at it, and were comenear to the front of the pedestal, I found the inscription, though thelatter parts of all the verses were effaced almost half away. Thus oneof the noblest cities of Greece, and one which at one time likewise hadbeen very celebrated for learning, had known nothing of the monument ofits greatest genius, if it had not been discovered to them by a nativeof Arpinum. But to return to the subject from which I have beendigressing. Who is there in the least degree acquainted with the Muses, that is, with liberal knowledge, or that deals at all in learning, whowould not choose to be this mathematician rather than that tyrant? Ifwe look into their methods of living and their employments, we shallfind the mind of the one strengthened and improved with tracing thedeductions of reason, amused with his own ingenuity, which is the onemost delicious food of the mind; the thoughts of the other engaged incontinual murders and injuries, in constant fears by night and by day. Now imagine a Democritus, a Pythagoras, and an Anaxagoras; whatkingdom, what riches, would you prefer to their studies and amusements?For you must necessarily look for that excellence which we are seekingfor in that which is the most perfect part of man; but what is therebetter in man than a sagacious and good mind? The enjoyment, therefore, of that good which proceeds from that sagacious mind can alone make ushappy; but virtue is the good of the mind: it follows, therefore, thata happy life depends on virtue. Hence proceed all things that arebeautiful, honorable, and excellent, as I said above (but this pointmust, I think, be treated of more at large), and they are well storedwith joys. For, as it is clear that a happy life consists in perpetualand unexhausted pleasures, it follows, too, that a happy life mustarise from honesty. 

XXIV. But that what I propose to demonstrate to you may not rest onmere words only, I must set before you the picture of something, as itwere, living and moving in the world, that may dispose us more for theimprovement of the understanding and real knowledge. Let us, then, pitch upon some man perfectly acquainted with the most excellent arts;let us present him for awhile to our own thoughts, and figure him toour own imaginations. In the first place, he must necessarily be of anextraordinary capacity; for virtue is not easily connected with dullminds. Secondly, he must have a great desire of discovering truth, fromwhence will arise that threefold production of the mind; one of whichdepends on knowing things, and explaining nature; the other, indefining what we ought to desire and what to avoid; the third, injudging of consequences and impossibilities, in which consists bothsubtlety in disputing and also clearness of judgment. Now, with whatpleasure must the mind of a wise man be affected which continuallydwells in the midst of such cares and occupations as these, when heviews the revolutions and motions of the whole world, and sees thoseinnumerable stars in the heavens, which, though fixed in their places, have yet one motion in common with the whole universe, and observes theseven other stars, some higher, some lower, each maintaining their owncourse, while their motions, though wandering, have certain defined andappointed spaces to run through! the sight of which doubtless urged andencouraged those ancient philosophers to exercise their investigatingspirit on many other things. Hence arose an inquiry after thebeginnings, and, as it were, seeds from which all things were producedand composed; what was the origin of every kind of thing, whetheranimate or inanimate, articulately speaking or mute; what occasionedtheir beginning and end, and by what alteration and change one thingwas converted into another; whence the earth originated, and by whatweights it was balanced; by what caverns the seas were supplied; bywhat gravity all things being carried down tend always to the middle ofthe world, which in any round body is the lowest place. 

XXV. A mind employed on such subjects, and which night and daycontemplates them, contains in itself that precept of the Delphic God, so as to "know itself, " and to perceive its connection with the divinereason, from whence it is filled with an insatiable joy. Forreflections on the power and nature of the Gods raise in us a desire ofimitating their eternity. Nor does the mind, that sees the necessarydependences and connections that one cause has with another, think itpossible that it should be itself confined to the shortness of thislife. Those causes, though they proceed from eternity to eternity, aregoverned by reason and understanding. And he who beholds them andexamines them, or rather he whose view takes in all the parts andboundaries of things, with what tranquillity of mind does he look onall human affairs, and on all that is nearer him! Hence proceeds theknowledge of virtue; hence arise the kinds and species of virtues;hence are discovered those things which nature regards as the boundsand extremities of good and evil; by this it is discovered to what allduties ought to be referred, and which is the most eligible manner oflife. And when these and similar points have been investigated, theprincipal consequence which is deduced from them, and that which is ourmain object in this discussion, is the establishment of the point, thatvirtue is of itself sufficient to a happy life. 

The third qualification of our wise man is the next to be considered, which goes through and spreads itself over every part of wisdom; it isthat whereby we define each particular thing, distinguish the genusfrom its species, connect consequences, draw just conclusions, anddistinguish truth from falsehood, which is the very art and science ofdisputing; which is not only of the greatest use in the examination ofwhat passes in the world, but is likewise the most rationalentertainment, and that which is most becoming to true wisdom. Such areits effects in retirement. Now, let our wise man be considered asprotecting the republic; what can be more excellent than such acharacter? By his prudence he will discover the true interests of hisfellow-citizens; by his justice he will be prevented from applying whatbelongs to the public to his own use; and, in short, he will be evergoverned by all the virtues, which are many and various. To these letus add the advantage of his friendships; in which the learned reckonnot only a natural harmony and agreement of sentiments throughout theconduct of life, but the utmost pleasure and satisfaction in conversingand passing our time constantly with one another. What can be wantingto such a life as this to make it more happy than it is? Fortuneherself must yield to a life stored with such joys. Now, if it be ahappiness to rejoice in such goods of the mind, that is to say, in suchvirtues, and if all wise men enjoy thoroughly these pleasures, it mustnecessarily be granted that all such are happy. 

XXVI. _A. _ What, when in torments and on the rack?

_M. _ Do you imagine I am speaking of him as laid on roses and violets?Is it allowable even for Epicurus (who only puts on the appearance ofbeing a philosopher, and who himself assumed that name for himself) tosay (though, as matters stand, I commend him for his saying) that awise man might at all times cry out, though he be burned, tortured, cutto pieces, "How little I regard it!" Shall this be said by one whodefines all evil as pain, and measures every good by pleasure; whocould ridicule whatever we call either honorable or base, and coulddeclare of us that we were employed about words, and uttering mereempty sounds; and that nothing is to be regarded by us but as it isperceived to be smooth or rough by the body? What! shall such a man asthis, as I said, whose understanding is little superior to the beasts', be at liberty to forget himself; and not only to despise fortune, whenthe whole of his good and evil is in the power of fortune, but to saythat he is happy in the most racking torture, when he had actuallydeclared pain to be not only the greatest evil, but the only one? Nordid he take any trouble to provide himself with those remedies whichmight have enabled him to bear pain, such as firmness of mind, a shameof doing anything base, exercise, and the habit of patience, preceptsof courage, and a manly hardiness; but he says that he supports himselfon the single recollection of past pleasures, as if any one, when theweather was so hot as that he was scarcely able to bear it, shouldcomfort himself by recollecting that he was once in my country, Arpinum, where he was surrounded on every side by cooling streams. ForI do not apprehend how past pleasures can allay present evils. But whenhe says that a wise man is always happy who would have no right to sayso if he were consistent with himself, what may they not do who allownothing to be desirable, nothing to be looked on as good but what ishonorable? Let, then, the Peripatetics and Old Academics follow myexample, and at length leave off muttering to themselves; and openlyand with a clear voice let them be bold to say that a happy life maynot be inconsistent with the agonies of Phalaris's bull. 

XXVII. But to dismiss the subtleties of the Stoics, which I am sensibleI have employed more than was necessary, let us admit of three kinds ofgoods; and let them really be kinds of goods, provided no regard is hadto the body and to external circumstances, as entitled to theappellation of good in any other sense than because we are obliged touse them: but let those other divine goods spread themselves far inevery direction, and reach the very heavens. Why, then, may I not callhim happy, nay, the happiest of men, who has attained them? Shall awise man be afraid of pain? which is, indeed, the greatest enemy to ouropinion. For I am persuaded that we are prepared and fortifiedsufficiently, by the disputations of the foregoing days, against ourown death or that of our friends, against grief, and the otherperturbations of the mind. But pain seems to be the sharpest adversaryof virtue; that it is which menaces us with burning torches; that it iswhich threatens to crush our fortitude, and greatness of mind, andpatience. Shall virtue, then, yield to this? Shall the happy life of awise and consistent man succumb to this? Good. Gods! how base wouldthis be! Spartan boys will bear to have their bodies torn by rodswithout uttering a groan. I myself have seen at Lacedæmon troops ofyoung men, with incredible earnestness contending together with theirhands and feet, with their teeth and nails, nay, even ready to expire, rather than own themselves conquered. Is any country of barbarians moreuncivilized or desolate than India? Yet they have among them some thatare held for wise men, who never wear any clothes all their life long, and who bear the snow of Caucasus, and the piercing cold of winter, without any pain; and who if they come in contact with fire endurebeing burned without a groan. The women, too, in India, on the death oftheir husbands have a regular contest, and apply to the judge to haveit determined which of them was best beloved by him; for it iscustomary there for one man to have many wives. She in whose favor itis determined exults greatly, and being attended by her relations, islaid on the funeral pile with her husband; the others, who arepostponed, walk away very much dejected. Custom can never be superiorto nature, for nature is never to be got the better of. But our mindsare infected by sloth and idleness, and luxury, and languor, andindolence: we have enervated them by opinions and bad customs. Who isthere who is unacquainted with the customs of the Egyptians? Theirminds being tainted by pernicious opinions, they are ready to bear anytorture rather than hurt an ibis, a snake, a cat, a dog, or acrocodile; and should any one inadvertently have hurt any of theseanimals, he will submit to any punishment. I am speaking of men only. As to the beasts, do they not bear cold and hunger, running about inwoods, and on mountains and deserts? Will they not fight for theiryoung ones till they are wounded? Are they afraid of any attacks orblows? I mention not what the ambitious will suffer for honor's sake, or those who are desirous of praise on account of glory, or lovers togratify their lust. Life is full of such instances. 

XXVIII. But let us not dwell too much on these questions, but ratherlet us return to our subject. I say, and say again, that happiness willsubmit even to be tormented; and that in pursuit of justice, andtemperance, and still more especially and principally fortitude, andgreatness of soul, and patience, it will not stop short at sight of theexecutioner; and when all other virtues proceed calmly to the torture, that one will never halt, as I said, on the outside and threshold ofthe prison; for what can be baser, what can carry a worse appearance, than to be left alone, separated from those beautiful attendants? Not, however, that this is by any means possible; for neither can thevirtues hold together without happiness, nor happiness without thevirtues; so that they will not suffer her to desert them, but willcarry her along with them, to whatever torments, to whatever pain theyare led. For it is the peculiar quality of a wise man to do nothingthat he may repent of, nothing against his inclination, but always toact nobly, with constancy, gravity, and honesty; to depend on nothingas certainty; to wonder at nothing, when it falls out, as if itappeared strange and unexpected to him; to be independent of every one, and abide by his own opinion. For my part, I cannot form an idea ofanything happier than this. The conclusion of the Stoics is indeedeasy; for since they are persuaded that the end of good is to liveagreeably to nature, and to be consistent with that--as a wise manshould do so, not only because it is his duty, but because it is in hispower--it must, of course, follow that whoever has the chief good inhis power has his happiness so too. And thus the life of a wise man isalways happy. You have here what I think may be confidently said of ahappy life; and as things now stand, very truly also, unless you canadvance something better. 

XXIX. _A. _ Indeed I cannot; but I should be glad to prevail on you, unless it is troublesome (as you are under no confinement fromobligations to any particular sect, but gather from all of themwhatever strikes you most as having the appearance of probability), asyou just now seemed to advise the Peripatetics and the Old Academyboldly to speak out without reserve, "that wise men are always thehappiest"--I should be glad to hear how you think it consistent forthem to say so, when you have said so much against that opinion, andthe conclusions of the Stoics. 

_M. _ I will make use, then, of that liberty which no one has theprivilege of using in philosophy but those of our school, whosediscourses determine nothing, but take in everything, leaving themunsupported by the authority of any particular person, to be judged ofby others, according to their weight. And as you seem desirous ofknowing how it is that, notwithstanding the different opinions ofphilosophers with regard to the ends of goods, virtue has stillsufficient security for the effecting of a happy life--which security, as we are informed, Carneades used indeed to dispute against; but hedisputed as against the Stoics, whose opinions he combated with greatzeal and vehemence. I, however, shall handle the question with moretemper; for if the Stoics have rightly settled the _ends_ of goods, theaffair is at an end; for a wise man must necessarily be always happy. But let us examine, if we can, the particular opinions of the others, that so this excellent decision, if I may so call it, in favor of ahappy life, may be agreeable to the opinions and discipline of all. 

XXX. These, then, are the opinions, as I think, that are held anddefended--the first four are simple ones: "that nothing is good butwhat is honest, " according to the Stoics; "nothing good but pleasure, "as Epicurus maintains; "nothing good but a freedom from pain, " asHieronymus[62] asserts; "nothing good but an enjoyment of theprincipal, or all, or the greatest goods of nature, " as Carneadesmaintained against the Stoics--these are simple, the others are mixedpropositions. Then there are three kinds of goods: the greatest beingthose of the mind; the next best those of the body; the third areexternal goods, as the Peripatetics call them, and the Old Academicsdiffer very little from them. Dinomachus[63] and Callipho[64] havecoupled pleasure with honesty; but Diodorus[65] the Peripatetic hasjoined indolence to honesty. These are the opinions that have somefooting; for those of Aristo, [66] Pyrrho, [67] Herillus, [68] and of someothers, are quite out of date. Now let us see what weight these menhave in them, excepting the Stoics, whose opinion I think I havesufficiently defended; and indeed I have explained what thePeripatetics have to say; excepting that Theophrastus, and those whofollowed him, dread and abhor pain in too weak a manner. The others maygo on to exaggerate the gravity and dignity of virtue, as usual; andthen, after they have extolled it to the skies, with the usualextravagance of good orators, it is easy to reduce the other topics tonothing by comparison, and to hold them up to contempt. They who thinkthat praise deserves to be sought after, even at the expense of pain, are not at liberty to deny those men to be happy who have obtained it. Though they may be under some evils, yet this name of happy has a verywide application. 

XXXI. For even as trading is said to be lucrative, and farmingadvantageous, not because the one never meets with any loss, nor theother with any damage from the inclemency of the weather, but becausethey succeed in general; so life may be properly called happy, not fromits being entirely made up of good things, but because it abounds withthese to a great and considerable degree. By this way of reasoning, then, a happy life may attend virtue even to the moment of execution;nay, may descend with her into Phalaris's bull, according to Aristotle, Xenocrates, Speusippus, Polemon; and will not be gained over by anyallurements to forsake her. Of the same opinion will Calliphon andDiodorus be; for they are both of them such friends to virtue as tothink that all things should be discarded and far removed that areincompatible with it. The rest seem to be more hampered with thesedoctrines, but yet they get clear of them; such as Epicurus, Hieronymus, and whoever else thinks it worth while to defend thedeserted Carneades: for there is not one of them who does not think themind to be judge of those goods, and able sufficiently to instruct himhow to despise what has the appearance only of good or evil. For whatseems to you to be the case with Epicurus is the case also withHieronymus and Carneades, and, indeed, with all the rest of them; forwho is there who is not sufficiently prepared against death and pain? Iwill begin, with your leave, with him whom we call soft and voluptuous. What! does he seem, to you to be afraid of death or pain when he callsthe day of his death happy; and who, when he is afflicted by thegreatest pains, silences them all by recollecting arguments of his owndiscovering? And this is not done in such a manner as to give room forimagining that he talks thus wildly from some sudden impulse; but hisopinion of death is, that on the dissolution of the animal all sense islost; and what is deprived of sense is, as he thinks, what we have noconcern at all with. And as to pain, too, he has certain rules tofollow then: if it be great, the comfort is that it must be short; ifit be of long continuance, then it must be supportable. What, then? Dothose grandiloquent gentlemen state anything better than Epicurus inopposition to these two things which distress us the most? And as toother things, do not Epicurus and the rest of the philosophers seemsufficiently prepared? Who is there who does not dread poverty? And yetno true philosopher ever can dread it. 

XXXII. But with how little is this man himself satisfied! No one hassaid more on frugality. For when a man is far removed from those thingswhich occasion a desire of money, from love, ambition, or other dailyextravagance, why should he be fond of money, or concern himself at allabout it? Could the Scythian Anacharsis[69] disregard money, and shallnot our philosophers be able to do so? We are informed of an epistle ofhis in these words: "Anacharsis to Hanno, greeting. My clothing is thesame as that with which the Scythians cover themselves; the hardness ofmy feet supplies the want of shoes; the ground is my bed, hunger mysauce, my food milk, cheese, and flesh. So you may come to me as to aman in want of nothing. But as to those presents you take so muchpleasure in, you may dispose of them to your own citizens, or to theimmortal Gods. " And almost all philosophers, of all schools, exceptingthose who are warped from right reason by a vicious disposition, mighthave been of this same opinion. Socrates, when on one occasion he saw agreat quantity of gold and silver carried in a procession, cried out, "How many things are there which I do not want!" Xenocrates, when someambassadors from Alexander had brought him fifty talents, which was avery large sum of money in those times, especially at Athens, carriedthe ambassadors to sup in the Academy, and placed just a sufficiencybefore them, without any apparatus. When they asked him, the next day, to whom he wished the money which they had for him to be paid: "What!"said he, "did you not perceive by our slight repast of yesterday that Ihad no occasion for money?" But when he perceived that they weresomewhat dejected, he accepted of thirty minas, that he might not seemto treat with disrespect the king's generosity. But Diogenes took agreater liberty, like a Cynic, when Alexander asked him if he wantedanything: "Just at present, " said he, "I wish that you would stand alittle out of the line between me and the sun, " for Alexander washindering him from sunning himself. And, indeed, this very man used tomaintain how much he surpassed the Persian king in his manner of lifeand fortune; for that he himself was in want of nothing, while theother never had enough; and that he had no inclination for thosepleasures of which the other could never get enough to satisfy himself;and that the other could never obtain his. 

XXXIII. You see, I imagine, how Epicurus has divided his kinds ofdesires, not very acutely perhaps, but yet usefully: saying that theyare "partly natural and necessary; partly natural, but not necessary;partly neither. That those which are necessary may be supplied almostfor nothing; for that the things which nature requires are easilyobtained. " As to the second kind of desires, his opinion is that anyone may easily either enjoy or go without them. And with regard to thethird, since they are utterly frivolous, being neither allied tonecessity nor nature, he thinks that they should be entirely rootedout. On this topic a great many arguments are adduced by theEpicureans; and those pleasures which they do not despise in a body, they disparage one by one, and seem rather for lessening the number ofthem; for as to wanton pleasures, on which subject they say a greatdeal, these, say they, are easy, common, and within any one's reach;and they think that if nature requires them, they are not to beestimated by birth, condition, or rank, but by shape, age, and person:and that it is by no means difficult to refrain from them, shouldhealth, duty, or reputation require it; but that pleasures of this kindmay be desirable, where they are attended with no inconvenience, butcan never be of any use. And the assertions which Epicurus makes withrespect to the whole of pleasure are such as show his opinion to bethat pleasure is always desirable, and to be pursued merely because itis pleasure; and for the same reason pain is to be avoided, because itis pain. So that a wise man will always adopt such a system ofcounterbalancing as to do himself the justice to avoid pleasure, shouldpain ensue from it in too great a proportion; and will submit to pain, provided the effects of it are to produce a greater pleasure: so thatall pleasurable things, though the corporeal senses are the judges ofthem, are still to be referred to the mind, on which account the bodyrejoices while it perceives a present pleasure; but that the mind notonly perceives the present as well as the body, but foresees it whileit is coming, and even when it is past will not let it quite slip away. So that a wise man enjoys a continual series of pleasures, uniting theexpectation of future pleasure to the recollection of what he hasalready tasted. The like notions are applied by them to high living;and the magnificence and expensiveness of entertainments aredeprecated, because nature is satisfied at a small expense. 

XXXIV. For who does not see this, that an appetite is the best sauce?When Darius, in his flight from the enemy, had drunk some water whichwas muddy and tainted with dead bodies, he declared that he had neverdrunk anything more pleasant; the fact was, that he had never drunkbefore when he was thirsty. Nor had Ptolemy ever eaten when he washungry; for as he was travelling over Egypt, his company not keeping upwith him, he had some coarse bread presented him in a cottage, uponwhich he said, "Nothing ever seemed to him pleasanter than that bread. "They relate, too, of Socrates, that, once when he was walking very fasttill the evening, on his being asked why he did so, his reply was thathe was purchasing an appetite by walking, that he might sup the better. And do we not see what the Lacedæmonians provide in their Phiditia?where the tyrant Dionysius supped, but told them he did not at all likethat black broth, which was their principal dish; on which he whodressed it said, "It was no wonder, for it wanted seasoning. " Dionysiusasked what that seasoning was; to which it was replied, "Fatigue inhunting, sweating, a race on the banks of Eurotas, hunger and thirst, "for these are the seasonings to the Lacedæmonian banquets. And this maynot only be conceived from the custom of men, but from the beasts, whoare satisfied with anything that is thrown before them, provided it isnot unnatural, and they seek no farther. Some entire cities, taught bycustom, delight in parsimony, as I said but just now of theLacedæmonians. Xenophon has given an account of the Persian diet, whonever, as he saith, use anything but cresses with their bread; not butthat, should nature require anything more agreeable, many things mightbe easily supplied by the ground, and plants in great abundance, and ofincomparable sweetness. Add to this strength and health, as theconsequence of this abstemious way of living. Now, compare with thisthose who sweat and belch, being crammed with eating, like fatted oxen;then will you perceive that they who pursue pleasure most attain itleast; and that the pleasure of eating lies not in satiety, butappetite. 

XXXV. They report of Timotheus, a famous man at Athens, and the head ofthe city, that having supped with Plato, and being extremely delightedwith his entertainment, on seeing him the next day, he said, "Yoursuppers are not only agreeable while I partake of them, but the nextday also. " Besides, the understanding is impaired when we are full withovereating and drinking. There is an excellent epistle of Plato toDion's relations, in which there occurs as nearly as possible thesewords: "When I came there, that happy life so much talked of, devotedto Italian and Syracusan entertainments, was noways agreeable to me; tobe crammed twice a day, and never to have the night to yourself, andthe other things which are the accompaniments of this kind of life, bywhich a man will never be made the wiser, but will be rendered muchless temperate; for it must be an extraordinary disposition that can betemperate in such circumstances. " How, then, can a life be pleasantwithout prudence and temperance? Hence you discover the mistake ofSardanapalus, the wealthiest king of the Assyrians, who ordered it tobe engraved on his tomb, I still have what in food I did exhaust; But what I left, though excellent, is lost. 

"What less than this, " says Aristotle, "could be inscribed on the tomb, not of a king, but an ox?" He said that he possessed those things whendead, which, in his lifetime, he could have no longer than while he wasenjoying them. Why, then, are riches desired? And wherein doth povertyprevent us from being happy? In the want, I imagine, of statues, pictures, and diversions. But if any one is delighted with thesethings, have not the poor people the enjoyment of them more than theywho are the owners of them in the greatest abundance? For we have greatnumbers of them displayed publicly in our city. And whatever store ofthem private people have, they cannot have a great number, and they butseldom see them, only when they go to their country seats; and some ofthem must be stung to the heart when they consider how they came bythem. The day would fail me, should I be inclined to defend the causeof poverty. The thing is manifest; and nature daily informs us how fewthings there are, and how trifling they are, of which she really standsin need. 

XXXVI. Let us inquire, then, if obscurity, the want of power, or eventhe being unpopular, can prevent a wise man from being happy. Observeif popular favor, and this glory which they are so fond of, be notattended with more uneasiness than pleasure. Our friend Demosthenes wascertainly very weak in declaring himself pleased with the whisper of awoman who was carrying water, as is the custom in Greece, and whowhispered to another, "That is he--that is Demosthenes. " What could beweaker than this? and yet what an orator he was! But although he hadlearned to speak to others, he had conversed but little with himself. We may perceive, therefore, that popular glory is not desirable ofitself; nor is obscurity to be dreaded. "I came to Athens, " saithDemocritus, "and there was no one there that knew me:" this was amoderate and grave man who could glory in his obscurity. Shallmusicians compose their tunes to their own tastes? and shall aphilosopher, master of a much better art, seek to ascertain, not whatis most true, but what will please the people? Can anything be moreabsurd than to despise the vulgar as mere unpolished mechanics, takensingly, and to think them of consequence when collected into a body?These wise men would contemn our ambitious pursuits and our vanities, and would reject all the honors which the people could voluntarilyoffer to them; but we know not how to despise them till we begin torepent of having accepted them. There is an anecdote related byHeraclitus, the natural philosopher, of Hermodorus, the chief of theEphesians, that he said "that all the Ephesians ought to be punishedwith death for saying, when they had expelled Hermodorus out of theircity, that they would have no one among them better than another; butthat if there were any such, he might go elsewhere to some otherpeople. " Is not this the case with the people everywhere? Do they nothate every virtue that distinguishes itself? What! was not Aristides (Ihad rather instance in the Greeks than ourselves) banished his countryfor being eminently just? What troubles, then, are they free from whohave no connection whatever with the people? What is more agreeablethan a learned retirement? I speak of that learning which makes usacquainted with the boundless extent of nature and the universe, andwhich even while we remain in this world discovers to us both heaven, earth, and sea. 

XXXVII. If, then, honor and riches have no value, what is there else tobe afraid of? Banishment, I suppose; which is looked on as the greatestevil. Now, if the evil of banishment proceeds not from ourselves, butfrom the froward disposition of the people, I have just now declaredhow contemptible it is. But if to leave one's country be miserable, theprovinces are full of miserable men, very few of the settlers in whichever return to their country again. But exiles are deprived of theirproperty! What, then! has there not been enough said on bearingpoverty? But with regard to banishment, if we examine the nature ofthings, not the ignominy of the name, how little does it differ fromconstant travelling! in which some of the most famous philosophers havespent their whole life, as Xenocrates, Crantor, Arcesilas, Lacydes, Aristotle, Theophrastus, Zeno, Cleanthes, Chrysippus, Antipater, Carneades, Panætius, Clitomachus, Philo, Antiochus, Posidonius, andinnumerable others, who from their first setting-out never returnedhome again. Now, what ignominy can a wise man be affected with (for itis of such a one that I am speaking) who can be guilty of nothing whichdeserves it? for there is no occasion to comfort one who is banishedfor his deserts. Lastly, they can easily reconcile themselves to everyaccident who measure all their objects and pursuits in life by thestandard of pleasure; so that in whatever place that is supplied, therethey may live happily. Thus what Teucer said may be applied to everycase:

 "Wherever I am happy is my country. "

Socrates, indeed, when he was asked where he belonged to, replied, "Theworld;" for he looked upon himself as a citizen and inhabitant of thewhole world. How was it with T. Altibutius? Did he not follow hisphilosophical studies with the greatest satisfaction at Athens, although he was banished? which, however, would not have happened tohim if he had obeyed the laws of Epicurus and lived peaceably in therepublic. In what was Epicurus happier, living in his own country, thanMetrodorus, who lived at Athens? Or did Plato's happiness exceed thatof Xenocrates, or Polemo, or Arcesilas? Or is that city to be valuedmuch that banishes all her good and wise men? Demaratus, the father ofour King Tarquin, not being able to bear the tyrant Cypselus, fled fromCorinth to Tarquinii, settled there, and had children. Was it, then, anunwise act in him to prefer the liberty of banishment to slavery athome?

XXXVIII. Besides the emotions of the mind, all griefs and anxieties areassuaged by forgetting them, and turning our thoughts to pleasure. Therefore, it was not without reason that Epicurus presumed to say thata wise man abounds with good things, because he may always have hispleasures; from whence it follows, as he thinks, that that point isgained which is the subject of our present inquiry, that a wise man isalways happy. What! though he should be deprived of the senses ofseeing and hearing? Yes; for he holds those things very cheap. For, inthe first place, what are the pleasures of which we are deprived bythat dreadful thing, blindness? For though they allow other pleasuresto be confined to the senses, yet the things which are perceived by thesight do not depend wholly on the pleasure the eyes receive; as is thecase when we taste, smell, touch, or hear; for, in respect of all thesesenses, the organs themselves are the seat of pleasure; but it is notso with the eyes. For it is the mind which is entertained by what wesee; but the mind may be entertained in many ways, even though we couldnot see at all. I am speaking of a learned and a wise man, with whom tothink is to live. But thinking in the case of a wise man does notaltogether require the use of his eyes in his investigations; for ifnight does not strip him of his happiness, why should blindness, whichresembles night, have that effect? For the reply of Antipater theCyrenaic to some women who bewailed his being blind, though it is alittle too obscene, is not without its significance. "What do youmean?" saith he; "do you think the night can furnish no pleasure?" Andwe find by his magistracies and his actions that old Appius, [70] too, who was blind for many years, was not prevented from doing whatever wasrequired of him with respect either to the republic or his own affairs. It is said that C. Drusus's house was crowded with clients. When theywhose business it was could not see how to conduct themselves, theyapplied to a blind guide. 

XXXIX. When I was a boy, Cn. Aufidius, a blind man, who had served theoffice of prætor, not only gave his opinion in the Senate, and wasready to assist his friends, but wrote a Greek history, and had aconsiderable acquaintance with literature. Diodorus the Stoic wasblind, and lived many years at my house. He, indeed, which is scarcelycredible, besides applying himself more than usual to philosophy, andplaying on the flute, agreeably to the custom of the Pythagoreans, andhaving books read to him night and day, in all which he did not wanteyes, contrived to teach geometry, which, one would think, could hardlybe done without the assistance of eyes, telling his scholars how andwhere to draw every line. They relate of Asclepiades, a native ofEretria, and no obscure philosopher, when some one asked him whatinconvenience he suffered from his blindness, that his reply was, "Hewas at the expense of another servant. " So that, as the most extremepoverty may be borne if you please, as is daily the case with some inGreece, so blindness may easily be borne, provided you have the supportof good health in other respects. Democritus was so blind he could notdistinguish white from black; but he knew the difference between goodand evil, just and unjust, honorable and base, the useful and useless, great and small. Thus one may live happily without distinguishingcolors; but without acquainting yourself with things, you cannot; andthis man was of opinion that the intense application of the mind wastaken off by the objects that presented themselves to the eye; andwhile others often could not see what was before their feet, hetravelled through all infinity. It is reported also that Homer[71] wasblind, but we observe his painting as well as his poetry. What country, what coast, what part of Greece, what military attacks, whatdispositions of battle, what array, what ship, what motions of men andanimals, can be mentioned which he has not described in such a manneras to enable us to see what he could not see himself? What, then! canwe imagine that Homer, or any other learned man, has ever been in wantof pleasure and entertainment for his mind? Were it not so, wouldAnaxagoras, or this very Democritus, have left their estates andpatrimonies, and given themselves up to the pursuit of acquiring thisdivine pleasure? It is thus that the poets who have representedTiresias the Augur as a wise man and blind never exhibit him asbewailing his blindness. And Homer, too, after he had describedPolyphemus as a monster and a wild man, represents him talking with hisram, and speaking of his good fortune, inasmuch as he could go whereverhe pleased and touch what he would. And so far he was right, for thatCyclops was a being of not much more understanding than his ram. 

XL. Now, as to the evil of being deaf. M. Crassus was a little thick ofhearing; but it was more uneasiness to him that he heard himself illspoken of, though, in my opinion, he did not deserve it. Our Epicureanscannot understand Greek, nor the Greeks Latin: now, they are deafreciprocally as to each other's language, and we are all truly deafwith regard to those innumerable languages which we do not understand. They do not hear the voice of the harper; but, then, they do not hearthe grating of a saw when it is setting, or the grunting of a hog whenhis throat is being cut, nor the roaring of the sea when they aredesirous of rest. And if they should chance to be fond of singing, theyought, in the first place, to consider that many wise men lived happilybefore music was discovered; besides, they may have more pleasure inreading verses than in hearing them sung. Then, as I before referredthe blind to the pleasures of hearing, so I may the deaf to thepleasures of sight: moreover, whoever can converse with himself dothnot need the conversation of another. But suppose all these misfortunesto meet in one person: suppose him blind and deaf--let him be afflictedwith the sharpest pains of body, which, in the first place, generallyof themselves make an end of him; still, should they continue so long, and the pain be so exquisite, that we should be unable to assign anyreason for our being so afflicted--still, why, good Gods! should we beunder any difficulty? For there is a retreat at hand: death is thatretreat--a shelter where we shall forever be insensible. Theodorus saidto Lysimachus, who threatened him with death, "It is a great matter, indeed, for you to have acquired the power of a Spanish fly!" WhenPerses entreated Paulus not to lead him in triumph, "That is a matterwhich you have in your own power, " said Paulus. I said many thingsabout death in our first day's disputation, when death was the subject;and not a little the next day, when I treated of pain; which things ifyou recollect, there can be no danger of your looking upon death asundesirable, or, at least, it will not be dreadful. 

That custom which is common among the Grecians at their banquetsshould, in my opinion, be observed in life: Drink, say they, or leavethe company; and rightly enough; for a guest should either enjoy thepleasure of drinking with others, or else not stay till he meets withaffronts from those that are in liquor. Thus, those injuries of fortunewhich you cannot bear you should flee from. 

XLI. This is the very same which is said by Epicurus and Hieronymus. Now, if those philosophers, whose opinion it is that virtue has nopower of itself, and who say that the conduct which we denominatehonorable and laudable is really nothing, and is only an emptycircumstance set off with an unmeaning sound, can nevertheless maintainthat a wise man is always happy, what, think you, may be done by theSocratic and Platonic philosophers? Some of these allow suchsuperiority to the goods of the mind as quite to eclipse what concernsthe body and all external circumstances. But others do not admit theseto be goods; they make everything depend on the mind: whose disputesCarneades used, as a sort of honorary arbitrator, to determine. For, aswhat seemed goods to the Peripatetics were allowed to be advantages bythe Stoics, and as the Peripatetics allowed no more to riches, goodhealth; and other things of that sort than the Stoics, when thesethings were considered according to their reality, and not by merenames, his opinion was that there was no ground for disagreeing. Therefore, let the philosophers of other schools see how they canestablish this point also. It is very agreeable to me that they makesome professions worthy of being uttered by the mouth of a philosopherwith regard to a wise man's having always the means of living happily. 

XLII. But as we are to depart in the morning, let us remember thesefive days' discussions; though, indeed, I think I shall commit them towriting: for how can I better employ the leisure which I have, ofwhatever kind it is, and whatever it be owing to? And I will send thesefive books also to my friend Brutus, by whom I was not only incited towrite on philosophy, but, I may say, provoked. And by so doing it isnot easy to say what service I may be of to others. At all events, inmy own various and acute afflictions, which surround me on all sides, Icannot find any better comfort for myself. 

THE NATURE OF THE GODS. 

 * * * * *

BOOK I. 

I. There are many things in philosophy, my dear Brutus, which are notas yet fully explained to us, and particularly (as you very well know)that most obscure and difficult question concerning the Nature of theGods, so extremely necessary both towards a knowledge of the human mindand the practice of true religion: concerning which the opinions of menare so various, and so different from each other, as to lead stronglyto the inference that ignorance[72] is the cause, or origin, ofphilosophy, and that the Academic philosophers have been prudent inrefusing their assent to things uncertain: for what is more unbecomingto a wise man than to judge rashly? or what rashness is so unworthy ofthe gravity and stability of a philosopher as either to maintain falseopinions, or, without the least hesitation, to support and defend whathe has not thoroughly examined and does not clearly comprehend?

In the question now before us, the greater part of mankind have unitedto acknowledge that which is most probable, and which we are all bynature led to suppose, namely, that there are Gods. Protagoras[73]doubted whether there were any. Diagoras the Melian and Theodorus ofCyrene entirely believed there were no such beings. But they who haveaffirmed that there are Gods, have expressed such a variety ofsentiments on the subject, and the disagreement between them is sogreat, that it would be tiresome to enumerate their opinions; for theygive us many statements respecting the forms of the Gods, and theirplaces of abode, and the employment of their lives. And these arematters on which the philosophers differ with the most exceedingearnestness. But the most considerable part of the dispute is, whetherthey are wholly inactive, totally unemployed, and free from all careand administration of affairs; or, on the contrary, whether all thingswere made and constituted by them from the beginning; and whether theywill continue to be actuated and governed by them to eternity. This isone of the greatest points in debate; and unless this is decided, mankind must necessarily remain in the greatest of errors, and ignorantof what is most important to be known. 

II. For there are some philosophers, both ancient and modern, who haveconceived that the Gods take not the least cognizance of human affairs. But if their doctrine be true, of what avail is piety, sanctity, orreligion? for these are feelings and marks of devotion which areoffered to the Gods by men with uprightness and holiness, on the groundthat men are the objects of the attention of the Gods, and that manybenefits are conferred by the immortal Gods on the human race. But ifthe Gods have neither the power nor the inclination to help us; if theytake no care of us, and pay no regard to our actions; and if there isno single advantage which can possibly accrue to the life of man; thenwhat reason can we have to pay any adoration, or any honors, or toprefer any prayers to them? Piety, like the other virtues, cannot haveany connection with vain show or dissimulation; and without piety, neither sanctity nor religion can be supported; the total subversion ofwhich must be attended with great confusion and disturbance in life. 

I do not even know, if we cast off piety towards the Gods, but thatfaith, and all the associations of human life, and that most excellentof all virtues, justice, may perish with it. 

There are other philosophers, and those, too, very great andillustrious men, who conceive the whole world to be directed andgoverned by the will and wisdom of the Gods; nor do they stop here, butconceive likewise that the Deities consult and provide for thepreservation of mankind. For they think that the fruits, and theproduce of the earth, and the seasons, and the variety of weather, andthe change of climates, by which all the productions of the earth arebrought to maturity, are designed by the immortal Gods for the use ofman. They instance many other things, which shall be related in thesebooks; and which would almost induce us to believe that the immortalGods had made them all expressly and solely for the benefit andadvantage of men. Against these opinions Carneades has advanced so muchthat what he has said should excite a desire in men who are notnaturally slothful to search after truth; for there is no subject onwhich the learned as well as the unlearned differ so strenuously as inthis; and since their opinions are so various, and so repugnant one toanother, it is possible that none of them may be, and absolutelyimpossible that more than one should be, right. 

III. Now, in a cause like this, I may be able to pacify well-meaningopposers, and to confute invidious censurers, so as to induce thelatter to repent of their unreasonable contradiction, and the former tobe glad to learn; for they who admonish one in a friendly spirit shouldbe instructed, they who attack one like enemies should be repelled. ButI observe that the several books which I have lately published[74] haveoccasioned much noise and various discourse about them; some peoplewondering what the reason has been why I have applied myself sosuddenly to the study of philosophy, and others desirous of knowingwhat my opinion is on such subjects. I likewise perceive that manypeople wonder at my following that philosophy[75] chiefly which seemsto take away the light, and to bury and envelop things in a kind ofartificial night, and that I should so unexpectedly have taken up thedefence of a school that has been long neglected and forsaken. But itis a mistake to suppose that this application to philosophical studieshas been sudden on my part. I have applied myself to them from myyouth, at no small expense of time and trouble; and I have been in thehabit of philosophizing a great deal when I least seemed to think aboutit; for the truth of which I appeal to my orations, which are filledwith quotations from philosophers, and to my intimacy with those verylearned men who frequented my house and conversed daily with me, particularly Diodorus, Philo, Antiochus, and Posidonius, [76] under whomI was bred; and if all the precepts of philosophy are to have referenceto the conduct of life, I am inclined to think that I have advanced, both in public and private affairs, only such principles as may besupported by reason and authority. 

IV. But if any one should ask what has induced me, in the decline oflife, to write on these subjects, nothing is more easily answered; forwhen I found myself entirely disengaged from business, and thecommonwealth reduced to the necessity of being governed by thedirection and care of one man, [77] I thought it becoming, for the sakeof the public, to instruct my countrymen in philosophy, and that itwould be of importance, and much to the honor and commendation of ourcity, to have such great and excellent subjects introduced in the Latintongue. I the less repent of my undertaking, since I plainly see that Ihave excited in many a desire, not only of learning, but of writing;for we have had several Romans well grounded in the learning of theGreeks who were unable to communicate to their countrymen what they hadlearned, because they looked upon it as impossible to express that inLatin which they had received from the Greeks. In this point I think Ihave succeeded so well that what I have done is not, even incopiousness of expression, inferior to that language. 

Another inducement to it was a melancholy disposition of mind, and thegreat and heavy oppression of fortune that was upon me; from which, ifI could have found any surer remedy, I would not have sought relief inthis pursuit. But I could procure ease by no means better than by notonly applying myself to books, but by devoting myself to theexamination of the whole body of philosophy. And every part and branchof this is readily discovered when every question is propounded inwriting; for there is such an admirable continuation and series ofthings that each seems connected with the other, and all appear linkedtogether and united. 

V. Now, those men who desire to know my own private opinion on everyparticular subject have more curiosity than is necessary. For the forceof reason in disputation is to be sought after rather than authority, since the authority of the teacher is often a disadvantage to those whoare willing to learn; as they refuse to use their own judgment, andrely implicitly on him whom they make choice of for a preceptor. Norcould I ever approve this custom of the Pythagoreans, who, when theyaffirmed anything in disputation, and were asked why it was so, used togive this answer: "He himself has said it;" and this "he himself, " itseems, was Pythagoras. Such was the force of prejudice and opinion thathis authority was to prevail even without argument or reason. 

They who wonder at my being a follower of this sect in particular mayfind a satisfactory answer in my four books of Academical Questions. But I deny that I have undertaken the protection of what is neglectedand forsaken; for the opinions of men do not die with them, though theymay perhaps want the author's explanation. This manner ofphilosophizing, of disputing all things and assuming nothing certainly, was begun by Socrates, revived by Arcesilaus, confirmed by Carneades, and has descended, with all its power, even to the present age; but Iam informed that it is now almost exploded even in Greece. However, Ido not impute that to any fault in the institution of the Academy, butto the negligence of mankind. If it is difficult to know all thedoctrines of any one sect, how much more is it to know those of everysect! which, however, must necessarily be known to those who resolve, for the sake of discovering truth, to dispute for or against allphilosophers without partiality. 

I do not profess myself to be master of this difficult and noblefaculty; but I do assert that I have endeavored to make myself so; andit is impossible that they who choose this manner of philosophizingshould not meet at least with something worthy their pursuit. I havespoken more fully on this head in another place. But as some are tooslow of apprehension, and some too careless, men stand in perpetualneed of caution. For we are not people who believe that there isnothing whatever which is true; but we say that some falsehoods are soblended with all truths, and have so great a resemblance to them, thatthere is no certain rule for judging of or assenting to propositions;from which this maxim also follows, that many things are probable, which, though they are not evident to the senses, have still sopersuasive and beautiful an aspect that a wise man chooses to directhis conduct by them. 

VI. Now, to free myself from the reproach of partiality, I propose tolay before you the opinions of various philosophers concerning thenature of the Gods, by which means all men may judge which of them areconsistent with truth; and if all agree together, or if any one shallbe found to have discovered what may be absolutely called truth, I willthen give up the Academy as vain and arrogant. So I may cry out, in thewords of Statius, in the Synephebi, Ye Gods, I call upon, require, pray, beseech, entreat, and implore the attention of my countrymen all, both young and old;

yet not on so trifling an occasion as when the person in the playcomplains that, In this city we have discovered a most flagrant iniquity: here is a professed courtesan, who refuses money from her lover;

but that they may attend, know, and consider what sentiments they oughtto preserve concerning religion, piety, sanctity, ceremonies, faith, oaths, temples, shrines, and solemn sacrifices; what they ought tothink of the auspices over which I preside;[78] for all these haverelation to the present question. The manifest disagreement among themost learned on this subject creates doubts in those who imagine theyhave some certain knowledge of the subject. 

Which fact I have often taken notice of elsewhere, and I did so moreespecially at the discussion that was held at my friend C. Cotta'sconcerning the immortal Gods, and which was carried on with thegreatest care, accuracy, and precision; for coming to him at the timeof the Latin holidays, [79] according to his own invitation and messagefrom him, I found him sitting in his study, [80] and in a discourse withC. Velleius, the senator, who was then reputed by the Epicureans theablest of our countrymen. Q. Lucilius Balbus was likewise there, agreat proficient in the doctrine of the Stoics, and esteemed equal tothe most eminent of the Greeks in that part of knowledge. As soon asCotta saw me, You are come, says he, very seasonably; for I am having adispute with Velleius on an important subject, which, considering thenature of your studies, is not improper for you to join in. 

VII. Indeed, says I, I think I am come very seasonably, as you say; forhere are three chiefs of three principal sects met together. If M. Piso[81] was present, no sect of philosophy that is in any esteem wouldwant an advocate. If Antiochus's book, replies Cotta, which he latelysent to Balbus, says true, you have no occasion to wish for your friendPiso; for Antiochus is of the opinion that the Stoics do not differfrom the Peripatetics in fact, though they do in words; and I should beglad to know what you think of that book, Balbus. I? says he. I wonderthat Antiochus, a man of the clearest apprehension, should not see whata vast difference there is between the Stoics, who distinguish thehonest and the profitable, not only in name, but absolutely in kind, and the Peripatetics, who blend the honest with the profitable in sucha manner that they differ only in degrees and proportion, and not inkind. This is not a little difference in words, but a great one inthings; but of this hereafter. Now, if you think fit, let us return towhat we began with. 

With all my heart, says Cotta. But that this visitor (looking at me), who is just come in, may not be ignorant of what we are upon, I willinform him that we were discoursing on the nature of the Gods;concerning which, as it is a subject that always appeared very obscureto me, I prevailed on Velleius to give us the sentiments of Epicurus. Therefore, continues he, if it is not troublesome, Velleius, repeatwhat you have already stated to us. I will, says he, though thisnew-comer will be no advocate for me, but for you; for you have both, adds he, with a smile, learned from the same Philo to be certain ofnothing. [82] What we have learned from him, replied I, Cotta willdiscover; but I would not have you think I am come as an assistant tohim, but as an auditor, with an impartial and unbiassed mind, and notbound by any obligation to defend any particular principle, whether Ilike or dislike it. 

VIII. After this, Velleius, with the confidence peculiar to his sect, dreading nothing so much as to seem to doubt of anything, began as ifhe had just then descended from the council of the Gods, and Epicurus'sintervals of worlds. Do not attend, says he, to these idle andimaginary tales; nor to the operator and builder of the World, the Godof Plato's Timæus; nor to the old prophetic dame, the [Greek: Pronoia]of the Stoics, which the Latins call Providence; nor to that round, that burning, revolving deity, the World, endowed with sense andunderstanding; the prodigies and wonders, not of inquisitivephilosophers, but of dreamers!

For with what eyes of the mind was your Plato able to see thatworkhouse of such stupendous toil, in which he makes the world to bemodelled and built by God? What materials, what tools, what bars, whatmachines, what servants, were employed in so vast a work? How could theair, fire, water, and earth pay obedience and submit to the will of thearchitect? From whence arose those five forms, [83] of which the restwere composed, so aptly contributing to frame the mind and produce thesenses? It is tedious to go through all, as they are of such a sortthat they look more like things to be desired than to be discovered. 

But, what is more remarkable, he gives us a world which has been notonly created, but, if I may so say, in a manner formed with hands, andyet he says it is eternal. Do you conceive him to have the least skillin natural philosophy who is capable of thinking anything to beeverlasting that had a beginning? For what can possibly ever have beenput together which cannot be dissolved again? Or what is there that hada beginning which will not have an end? If your Providence, Lucilius, is the same as Plato's God, I ask you, as before, who were theassistants, what were the engines, what was the plan and preparation ofthe whole work? If it is not the same, then why did she make the worldmortal, and not everlasting, like Plato's God?

IX. But I would demand of you both, why these world-builders started upso suddenly, and lay dormant for so many ages? For we are not toconclude that, if there was no world, there were therefore no ages. Ido not now speak of such ages as are finished by a certain number ofdays and nights in annual courses; for I acknowledge that those couldnot be without the revolution of the world; but there was a certaineternity from infinite time, not measured by any circumscription ofseasons; but how that was in space we cannot understand, because wecannot possibly have even the slightest idea of time before time was. Idesire, therefore, to know, Balbus, why this Providence of yours wasidle for such an immense space of time? Did she avoid labor? But thatcould have no effect on the Deity; nor could there be any labor, sinceall nature, air, fire, earth, and water would obey the divine essence. What was it that incited the Deity to act the part of an ædile, toilluminate and decorate the world? If it was in order that God might bethe better accommodated in his habitation, then he must have beendwelling an infinite length of time before in darkness as in a dungeon. But do we imagine that he was afterward delighted with that varietywith which we see the heaven and earth adorned? What entertainmentcould that be to the Deity? If it was any, he would not have beenwithout it so long. 

Or were these things made, as you almost assert, by God for the sake ofmen? Was it for the wise? If so, then this great design was adopted forthe sake of a very small number. Or for the sake of fools? First ofall, there was no reason why God should consult the advantage of thewicked; and, further, what could be his object in doing so, since allfools are, without doubt, the most miserable of men, chiefly becausethey are fools? For what can we pronounce more deplorable than folly?Besides, there are many inconveniences in life which the wise can learnto think lightly of by dwelling rather on the advantages which theyreceive; but which fools are unable to avoid when they are coming, orto bear when they are come. 

X. They who affirm the world to be an animated and intelligent beinghave by no means discovered the nature of the mind, nor are able toconceive in what form that essence can exist; but of that I shall speakmore hereafter. At present I must express my surprise at the weaknessof those who endeavor to make it out to be not only animated andimmortal, but likewise happy, and round, because Plato says that is themost beautiful form; whereas I think a cylinder, a square, a cone, or apyramid more beautiful. But what life do they attribute to that roundDeity? Truly it is a being whirled about with a celerity to whichnothing can be even conceived by the imagination as equal; nor can Iimagine how a settled mind and happy life can consist in such motion, the least degree of which would be troublesome to us. Why, therefore, should it not be considered troublesome also to the Deity? For theearth itself, as it is part of the world, is part also of the Deity. Wesee vast tracts of land barren and uninhabitable; some, because theyare scorched by the too near approach of the sun; others, because theyare bound up with frost and snow, through the great distance which thesun is from them. Therefore, if the world is a Deity, as these areparts of the world, some of the Deity's limbs must be said to bescorched, and some frozen. 

These are your doctrines, Lucilius; but what those of others are I willendeavor to ascertain by tracing them back from the earliest of ancientphilosophers. Thales the Milesian, who first inquired after suchsubjects, asserted water to be the origin of things, and that God wasthat mind which formed all things from water. If the Gods can existwithout corporeal sense, and if there can be a mind without a body, whydid he annex a mind to water?

It was Anaximander's opinion that the Gods were born; that after agreat length of time they died; and that they are innumerable worlds. But what conception can we possibly have of a Deity who is not eternal?

Anaximenes, after him, taught that the air is God, and that he wasgenerated, and that he is immense, infinite, and always in motion; asif air, which has no form, could possibly be God; for the Deity mustnecessarily be not only of some form or other, but of the mostbeautiful form. Besides, is not everything that had a beginning subjectto mortality?

XI. Anaxagoras, who received his learning from Anaximenes, was thefirst who affirmed the system and disposition of all things to becontrived and perfected by the power and reason of an infinite mind; inwhich infinity he did not perceive that there could be no conjunctionof sense and motion, nor any sense in the least degree, where natureherself could feel no impulse. If he would have this mind to be a sortof animal, then there must be some more internal principle from whencethat animal should receive its appellation. But what can be moreinternal than the mind? Let it, therefore, be clothed with an externalbody. But this is not agreeable to his doctrine; but we are utterlyunable to conceive how a pure simple mind can exist without anysubstance annexed to it. 

Alcmæon of Crotona, in attributing a divinity to the sun, the moon, andthe rest of the stars, and also to the mind, did not perceive that hewas ascribing immortality to mortal beings. 

Pythagoras, who supposed the Deity to be one soul, mixing with andpervading all nature, from which our souls are taken, did not considerthat the Deity himself must, in consequence of this doctrine, be maimedand torn with the rending every human soul from it; nor that, when thehuman mind is afflicted (as is the case in many instances), that partof the Deity must likewise be afflicted, which cannot be. If the humanmind were a Deity, how could it be ignorant of any thing? Besides, howcould that Deity, if it is nothing but soul, be mixed with, or infusedinto, the world?

Then Xenophanes, who said that everything in the world which had anyexistence, with the addition of intellect, was God, is as liable toexception as the rest, especially in relation to the infinity of it, inwhich there can be nothing sentient, nothing composite. 

Parmenides formed a conceit to himself of something circular like acrown. (He names it Stephane. ) It is an orb of constant light and heataround the heavens; this he calls God; in which there is no room toimagine any divine form or sense. And he uttered many other absurditieson the same subject; for he ascribed a divinity to war, to discord, tolust, and other passions of the same kind, which are destroyed bydisease, or sleep, or oblivion, or age. The same honor he gives to thestars; but I shall forbear making any objections to his system here, having already done it in another place. 

XII. Empedocles, who erred in many things, is most grossly mistaken inhis notion of the Gods. He lays down four natures[84] as divine, fromwhich he thinks that all things were made. Yet it is evident that theyhave a beginning, that they decay, and that they are void of all sense. 

Protagoras did not seem to have any idea of the real nature of theGods; for he acknowledged that he was altogether ignorant whether thereare or are not any, or what they are. 

What shall I say of Democritus, who classes our images of objects, andtheir orbs, in the number of the Gods; as he does that principlethrough which those images appear and have their influence? He deifieslikewise our knowledge and understanding. Is he not involved in a verygreat error? And because nothing continues always in the same state, hedenies that anything is everlasting, does he not thereby entirelydestroy the Deity, and make it impossible to form any opinion of him?

Diogenes of Apollonia looks upon the air to be a Deity. But what sensecan the air have? or what divine form can be attributed to it?

It would be tedious to show the uncertainty of Plato's opinion; for, inhis Timæus, he denies the propriety of asserting that there is onegreat father or creator of the world; and, in his book of Laws, hethinks we ought not to make too strict an inquiry into the nature ofthe Deity. And as for his statement when he asserts that God is a beingwithout any body--what the Greeks call [Greek: asômatos]--it iscertainly quite unintelligible how that theory can possibly be true;for such a God must then necessarily be destitute of sense, prudence, and pleasure; all which things are comprehended in our notion of theGods. He likewise asserts in his Timæus, and in his Laws, that theworld, the heavens, the stars, the mind, and those Gods which aredelivered down to us from our ancestors, constitute the Deity. Theseopinions, taken separately, are apparently false; and, together, aredirectly inconsistent with each other. 

Xenophon has committed almost the same mistakes, but in fewer words. Inthose sayings which he has related of Socrates, he introduces himdisputing the lawfulness of inquiring into the form of the Deity, andmakes him assert the sun and the mind to be Deities: he represents himlikewise as affirming the being of one God only, and at another time ofmany; which are errors of almost the same kind which I before tooknotice of in Plato. 

XIII. Antisthenes, in his book called the Natural Philosopher, saysthat there are many national and one natural Deity; but by this sayinghe destroys the power and nature of the Gods. Speusippus is not muchless in the wrong; who, following his uncle Plato, says that a certainincorporeal power governs everything; by which he endeavors to root outof our minds the knowledge of the Gods. 

Aristotle, in his third book of Philosophy, confounds many thingstogether, as the rest have done; but he does not differ from his masterPlato. At one time he attributes all divinity to the mind, at anotherhe asserts that the world is God. Soon afterward he makes some otheressence preside over the world, and gives it those faculties by which, with certain revolutions, he may govern and preserve the motion of it. Then he asserts the heat of the firmament to be God; not perceiving thefirmament to be part of the world, which in another place he haddescribed as God. How can that divine sense of the firmament bepreserved in so rapid a motion? And where do the multitude of Godsdwell, if heaven itself is a Deity? But when this philosopher says thatGod is without a body, he makes him an irrational and insensible being. Besides, how can the world move itself, if it wants a body? Or how, ifit is in perpetual self-motion, can it be easy and happy?

Xenocrates, his fellow-pupil, does not appear much wiser on this head, for in his books concerning the nature of the Gods no divine form isdescribed; but he says the number of them is eight. Five are movingplanets;[85] the sixth is contained in all the fixed stars; which, dispersed, are so many several members, but, considered together, areone single Deity; the seventh is the sun; and the eighth the moon. Butin what sense they can possibly be happy is not easy to be understood. 

From the same school of Plato, Heraclides of Pontus stuffed his bookswith puerile tales. Sometimes he thinks the world a Deity, at othertimes the mind. He attributes divinity likewise to the wandering stars. He deprives the Deity of sense, and makes his form mutable; and, in thesame book again, he makes earth and heaven Deities. 

The unsteadiness of Theophrastus is equally intolerable. At one time heattributes a divine prerogative to the mind; at another, to thefirmament; at another, to the stars and celestial constellations. 

Nor is his disciple Strato, who is called the naturalist, any moreworthy to be regarded; for he thinks that the divine power is diffusedthrough nature, which is the cause of birth, increase, and diminution, but that it has no sense nor form. 

XIV. Zeno (to come to your sect, Balbus) thinks the law of nature to bethe divinity, and that it has the power to force us to what is right, and to restrain us from what is wrong. How this law can be an animatedbeing I cannot conceive; but that God is so we would certainlymaintain. The same person says, in another place, that the sky is God;but can we possibly conceive that God is a being insensible, deaf toour prayers, our wishes, and our vows, and wholly unconnected with us?In other books he thinks there is a certain rational essence pervadingall nature, indued with divine efficacy. He attributes the same powerto the stars, to the years, to the months, and to the seasons. In hisinterpretation of Hesiod's Theogony, [86] he entirely destroys theestablished notions of the Gods; for he excludes Jupiter, Juno, andVesta, and those esteemed divine, from the number of them; but hisdoctrine is that these are names which by some kind of allusion aregiven to mute and inanimate beings. The sentiments of his discipleAristo are not less erroneous. He thought it impossible to conceive theform of the Deity, and asserts that the Gods are destitute of sense;and he is entirely dubious whether the Deity is an animated being ornot. 

Cleanthes, who next comes under my notice, a disciple of Zeno at thesame time with Aristo, in one place says that the world is God; inanother, he attributes divinity to the mind and spirit of universalnature; then he asserts that the most remote, the highest, theall-surrounding, the all-enclosing and embracing heat, which is calledthe sky, is most certainly the Deity. In the books he wrote againstpleasure, in which he seems to be raving, he imagines the Gods to havea certain form and shape; then he ascribes all divinity to the stars;and, lastly, he thinks nothing more divine than reason. So that thisGod, whom we know mentally and in the speculations of our minds, fromwhich traces we receive our impression, has at last actually no visibleform at all. 

XV. Persæus, another disciple of Zeno, says that they who have madediscoveries advantageous to the life of man should be esteemed as Gods;and the very things, he says, which are healthful and beneficial havederived their names from those of the Gods; so that he thinks it notsufficient to call them the discoveries of Gods, but he urges that theythemselves should be deemed divine. What can be more absurd than toascribe divine honors to sordid and deformed things; or to place amongthe Gods men who are dead and mixed with the dust, to whose memory allthe respect that could be paid would be but mourning for their loss?

Chrysippus, who is looked upon as the most subtle interpreter of thedreams of the Stoics, has mustered up a numerous band of unknown Gods;and so unknown that we are not able to form any idea about them, thoughour mind seems capable of framing any image to itself in its thoughts. For he says that the divine power is placed in reason, and in thespirit and mind of universal nature; that the world, with a universaleffusion of its spirit, is God; that the superior part of that spirit, which is the mind and reason, is the great principle of nature, containing and preserving the chain of all things; that the divinity isthe power of fate, and the necessity of future events. He deifies firealso, and what I before called the ethereal spirit, and those elementswhich naturally proceed from it--water, earth, and air. He attributesdivinity to the sun, moon, stars, and universal space, the grandcontainer of all things, and to those men likewise who have obtainedimmortality. He maintains the sky to be what men call Jupiter; the air, which pervades the sea, to be Neptune; and the earth, Ceres. In likemanner he goes through the names of the other Deities. He says thatJupiter is that immutable and eternal law which guides and directs usin our manners; and this he calls fatal necessity, the everlastingverity of future events. But none of these are of such a nature as toseem to carry any indication of divine virtue in them. These are thedoctrines contained in his first book of the Nature of the Gods. In thesecond, he endeavors to accommodate the fables of Orpheus, Musæus, Hesiod, and Homer to what he has advanced in the first, in order thatthe most ancient poets, who never dreamed of these things, may seem tohave been Stoics. Diogenes the Babylonian was a follower of thedoctrine of Chrysippus; and in that book which he wrote, entitled "ATreatise concerning Minerva, " he separates the account of Jupiter'sbringing-forth, and the birth of that virgin, from the fabulous, andreduces it to a natural construction. 

XVI. Thus far have I been rather exposing the dreams of dotards thangiving the opinions of philosophers. Not much more absurd than theseare the fables of the poets, who owe all their power of doing harm tothe sweetness of their language; who have represented the Gods asenraged with anger and inflamed with lust; who have brought before oureyes their wars, battles, combats, wounds; their hatreds, dissensions, discords, births, deaths, complaints, and lamentations; theirindulgences in all kinds of intemperance; their adulteries; theirchains; their amours with mortals, and mortals begotten by immortals. To these idle and ridiculous flights of the poets we may add theprodigious stories invented by the Magi, and by the Egyptians also, which were of the same nature, together with the extravagant notions ofthe multitude at all times, who, from total ignorance of the truth, arealways fluctuating in uncertainty. 

Now, whoever reflects on the rashness and absurdity of these tenetsmust inevitably entertain the highest respect and veneration forEpicurus, and perhaps even rank him in the number of those beings whoare the subject of this dispute; for he alone first founded the idea ofthe existence of the Gods on the impression which nature herself hathmade on the minds of all men. For what nation, what people are there, who have not, without any learning, a natural idea, or prenotion, of aDeity? Epicurus calls this [Greek: prolêpsis]; that is, an antecedentconception of the fact in the mind, without which nothing can beunderstood, inquired after, or discoursed on; the force and advantageof which reasoning we receive from that celestial volume of Epicurusconcerning the Rule and Judgment of Things. 

XVII. Here, then, you see the foundation of this question clearly laid;for since it is the constant and universal opinion of mankind, independent of education, custom, or law, that there are Gods, it mustnecessarily follow that this knowledge is implanted in our minds, or, rather, innate in us. That opinion respecting which there is a generalagreement in universal nature must infallibly be true; therefore itmust be allowed that there are Gods; for in this we have theconcurrence, not only of almost all philosophers, but likewise of theignorant and illiterate. It must be also confessed that the point isestablished that we have naturally this idea, as I said before, orprenotion, of the existence of the Gods. As new things require newnames, so that prenotion was called [Greek: prolêpsis] by Epicurus; anappellation never used before. On the same principle of reasoning, wethink that the Gods are happy and immortal; for that nature which hathassured us that there are Gods has likewise imprinted in our minds theknowledge of their immortality and felicity; and if so, what Epicurushath declared in these words is true: "That which is eternally happycannot be burdened with any labor itself, nor can it impose any laboron another; nor can it be influenced by resentment or favor: becausethings which are liable to such feelings must be weak and frail. " Wehave said enough to prove that we should worship the Gods with piety, and without superstition, if that were the only question. 

For the superior and excellent nature of the Gods requires a piousadoration from men, because it is possessed of immortality and the mostexalted felicity; for whatever excels has a right to veneration, andall fear of the power and anger of the Gods should be banished; for wemust understand that anger and affection are inconsistent with thenature of a happy and immortal being. These apprehensions beingremoved, no dread of the superior powers remains. To confirm thisopinion, our curiosity leads us to inquire into the form and life andaction of the intellect and spirit of the Deity. 

XVIII. With regard to his form, we are directed partly by nature andpartly by reason. All men are told by nature that none but a human formcan be ascribed to the Gods; for under what other image did it everappear to any one either sleeping or waking? and, without havingrecourse to our first notions, [87] reason itself declares the same; foras it is easy to conceive that the most excellent nature, eitherbecause of its happiness or immortality, should be the most beautiful, what composition of limbs, what conformation of lineaments, what form, what aspect, can be more beautiful than the human? Your sect, Lucilius(not like my friend Cotta, who sometimes says one thing and sometimesanother), when they represent the divine art and workmanship in thehuman body, are used to describe how very completely each member isformed, not only for convenience, but also for beauty. Therefore, ifthe human form excels that of all other animal beings, as God himselfis an animated being, he must surely be of that form which is the mostbeautiful. Besides, the Gods are granted to be perfectly happy; andnobody can be happy without virtue, nor can virtue exist where reasonis not; and reason can reside in none but the human form; the Gods, therefore, must be acknowledged to be of human form; yet that form isnot body, but something like body; nor does it contain any blood, butsomething like blood. Though these distinctions were more acutelydevised and more artfully expressed by Epicurus than any commoncapacity can comprehend; yet, depending on your understanding, I shallbe more brief on the subject than otherwise I should be. Epicurus, whonot only discovered and understood the occult and almost hidden secretsof nature, but explained them with ease, teaches that the power andnature of the Gods is not to be discerned by the senses, but by themind; nor are they to be considered as bodies of any solidity, orreducible to number, like those things which, because of theirfirmness, he calls [Greek: Steremnia];[88] but as images, perceived bysimilitude and transition. As infinite kinds of those images resultfrom innumerable individuals, and centre in the Gods, our minds andunderstanding are directed towards and fixed with the greatest delighton them, in order to comprehend what that happy and eternal essence is. 

XIX. Surely the mighty power of the Infinite Being is most worthy ourgreat and earnest contemplation; the nature of which we mustnecessarily understand to be such that everything in it is made tocorrespond completely to some other answering part. This is called byEpicurus [Greek: isonomia]; that is to say, an equal distribution oreven disposition of things. From hence he draws this inference, that, as there is such a vast multitude of mortals, there cannot be a lessnumber of immortals; and if those which perish are innumerable, thosewhich are preserved ought also to be countless. Your sect, Balbus, frequently ask us how the Gods live, and how they pass their time?Their life is the most happy, and the most abounding with all kinds ofblessings, which can be conceived. They do nothing. They areembarrassed with no business; nor do they perform any work. Theyrejoice in the possession of their own wisdom and virtue. They aresatisfied that they shall ever enjoy the fulness of eternal pleasures. 

XX. Such a Deity may properly be called happy; but yours is a mostlaborious God. For let us suppose the world a Deity--what can be a moreuneasy state than, without the least cessation, to be whirled about theaxle-tree of heaven with a surprising celerity? But nothing can behappy that is not at ease. Or let us suppose a Deity residing in theworld, who directs and governs it, who preserves the courses of thestars, the changes of the seasons, and the vicissitudes and orders ofthings, surveying the earth and the sea, and accommodating them to theadvantage and necessities of man. Truly this Deity is embarrassed witha very troublesome and laborious office. We make a happy life toconsist in a tranquillity of mind, a perfect freedom from care, and anexemption from all employment. The philosopher from whom we receivedall our knowledge has taught us that the world was made by nature; thatthere was no occasion for a workhouse to frame it in; and that, thoughyou deny the possibility of such a work without divine skill, it is soeasy to her, that she has made, does make, and will make innumerableworlds. But, because you do not conceive that nature is able to producesuch effects without some rational aid, you are forced, like the tragicpoets, when you cannot wind up your argument in any other way, to haverecourse to a Deity, whose assistance you would not seek, if you couldview that vast and unbounded magnitude of regions in all parts; wherethe mind, extending and spreading itself, travels so far and wide thatit can find no end, no extremity to stop at. In this immensity ofbreadth, length, and height, a most boundless company of innumerableatoms are fluttering about, which, notwithstanding the interposition ofa void space, meet and cohere, and continue clinging to one another;and by this union these modifications and forms of things arise, which, in your opinions, could not possibly be made without the help ofbellows and anvils. Thus you have imposed on us an eternal master, whomwe must dread day and night. For who can be free from fear of a Deitywho foresees, regards, and takes notice of everything; one who thinksall things his own; a curious, ever-busy God?

Hence first arose your [Greek: Heimarmenê], as you call it, your fatalnecessity; so that, whatever happens, you affirm that it flows from aneternal chain and continuance of causes. Of what value is thisphilosophy, which, like old women and illiterate men, attributeseverything to fate? Then follows your [Greek: mantikê], in Latin called_divinatio_, divination; which, if we would listen to you, would plungeus into such superstition that we should fall down and worship yourinspectors into sacrifices, your augurs, your soothsayers, yourprophets, and your fortune-tellers. 

Epicurus having freed us from these terrors and restored us to liberty, we have no dread of those beings whom we have reason to think entirelyfree from all trouble themselves, and who do not impose any on others. We pay our adoration, indeed, with piety and reverence to that essencewhich is above all excellence and perfection. But I fear my zeal forthis doctrine has made me too prolix. However, I could not easily leaveso eminent and important a subject unfinished, though I must confess Ishould rather endeavor to hear than speak so long. 

XXI. Cotta, with his usual courtesy, then began. Velleius, says he, were it not for something which you have advanced, I should haveremained silent; for I have often observed, as I did just now uponhearing you, that I cannot so easily conceive why a proposition is trueas why it is false. Should you ask me what I take the nature of theGods to be, I should perhaps make no answer. But if you should askwhether I think it to be of that nature which you have described, Ishould answer that I was as far as possible from agreeing with you. However, before I enter on the subject of your discourse and what youhave advanced upon it, I will give you my opinion of yourself. Yourintimate friend, L. Crassus, has been often heard by me to say that youwere beyond all question superior to all our learned Romans; and thatfew Epicureans in Greece were to be compared to you. But as I knew whata wonderful esteem he had for you, I imagined that might make him themore lavish in commendation of you. Now, however, though I do notchoose to praise any one when present, yet I must confess that I thinkyou have delivered your thoughts clearly on an obscure and veryintricate subject; that you are not only copious in your sentiments, but more elegant in your language than your sect generally are. When Iwas at Athens, I went often to hear Zeno, by the advice of Philo, whoused to call him the chief of the Epicureans; partly, probably, inorder to judge more easily how completely those principles could berefuted after I had heard them stated by the most learned of theEpicureans. And, indeed, he did not speak in any ordinary manner; but, like you, with clearness, gravity, and elegance; yet what frequentlygave me great uneasiness when I heard him, as it did while I attendedto you, was to see so excellent a genius falling into such frivolous(excuse my freedom), not to say foolish, doctrines. However, I shallnot at present offer anything better; for, as I said before, we can inmost subjects, especially in physics, sooner discover what is not truethan what is. 

XXII. If you should ask me what God is, or what his character andnature are, I should follow the example of Simonides, who, when Hierothe tyrant proposed the same question to him, desired a day to considerof it. When he required his answer the next day, Simonides begged twodays more; and as he kept constantly desiring double the number whichhe had required before instead of giving his answer, Hiero, withsurprise, asked him his meaning in doing so: "Because, " says he, "thelonger I meditate on it, the more obscure it appears to me. " Simonides, who was not only a delightful poet, but reputed a wise and learned manin other branches of knowledge, found, I suppose, so many acute andrefined arguments occurring to him, that he was doubtful which was thetruest, and therefore despaired of discovering any truth. 

But does your Epicurus (for I had rather contend with him than withyou) say anything that is worthy the name of philosophy, or even ofcommon-sense?

In the question concerning the nature of the Gods, his first inquiryis, whether there are Gods or not. It would be dangerous, I believe, totake the negative side before a public auditory; but it is very safe ina discourse of this kind, and in this company. I, who am a priest, andwho think that religions and ceremonies ought sacredly to bemaintained, am certainly desirous to have the existence of the Gods, which is the principal point in debate, not only fixed in opinion, butproved to a demonstration; for many notions flow into and disturb themind which sometimes seem to convince us that there are none. But seehow candidly I will behave to you: as I shall not touch upon thosetenets you hold in common with other philosophers, consequently I shallnot dispute the existence of the Gods, for that doctrine is agreeableto almost all men, and to myself in particular; but I am still atliberty to find fault with the reasons you give for it, which I thinkare very insufficient. 

XXIII. You have said that the general assent of men of all nations andall degrees is an argument strong enough to induce us to acknowledgethe being of the Gods. This is not only a weak, but a false, argument;for, first of all, how do you know the opinions of all nations? Ireally believe there are many people so savage that they have nothoughts of a Deity. What think you of Diagoras, who was called theatheist; and of Theodorus after him? Did not they plainly deny the veryessence of a Deity? Protagoras of Abdera, whom you just now mentioned, the greatest sophist of his age, was banished by order of the Atheniansfrom their city and territories, and his books were publicly burned, because these words were in the beginning of his treatise concerningthe Gods: "I am unable to arrive at any knowledge whether there are, orare not, any Gods. " This treatment of him, I imagine, restrained manyfrom professing their disbelief of a Deity, since the doubt of it onlycould not escape punishment. What shall we say of the sacrilegious, theimpious, and the perjured? If Tubulus Lucius, Lupus, or Carbo the sonof Neptune, as Lucilius says, had believed that there were Gods, wouldeither of them have carried his perjuries and impieties to such excess?Your reasoning, therefore, to confirm your assertion is not soconclusive as you think it is. But as this is the manner in which otherphilosophers have argued on the same subject, I will take no furthernotice of it at present; I rather choose to proceed to what is properlyyour own. 

I allow that there are Gods. Instruct me, then, concerning theirorigin; inform me where they are, what sort of body, what mind, theyhave, and what is their course of life; for these I am desirous ofknowing. You attribute the most absolute power and efficacy to atoms. Out of them you pretend that everything is made. But there are noatoms, for there is nothing without body; every place is occupied bybody, therefore there can be no such thing as a vacuum or an atom. 

XXIV. I advance these principles of the naturalists without knowingwhether they are true or false; yet they are more like truth than thosestatements of yours; for they are the absurdities in which Democritus, or before him Leucippus, used to indulge, saying that there are certainlight corpuscles--some smooth, some rough, some round, some square, some crooked and bent as bows--which by a fortuitous concourse madeheaven and earth, without the influence of any natural power. Thisopinion, C. Velleius, you have brought down to these our times; and youwould sooner be deprived of the greatest advantages of life than ofthat authority; for before you were acquainted with those tenets, youthought that you ought to profess yourself an Epicurean; so that it wasnecessary that you should either embrace these absurdities or lose thephilosophical character which you had taken upon you; and what couldbribe you to renounce the Epicurean opinion? Nothing, you say, canprevail on you to forsake the truth and the sure means of a happy life. But is that the truth? for I shall not contest your happy life, whichyou think the Deity himself does not enjoy unless he languishes inidleness. But where is truth? Is it in your innumerable worlds, some ofwhich are rising, some falling, at every moment of time? Or is it inyour atomical corpuscles, which form such excellent works without thedirection of any natural power or reason? But I was forgetting myliberality, which I had promised to exert in your case, and exceedingthe bounds which I at first proposed to myself. Granting, then, everything to be made of atoms, what advantage is that to yourargument? For we are searching after the nature of the Gods; andallowing them to be made of atoms, they cannot be eternal, becausewhatever is made of atoms must have had a beginning: if so, there wereno Gods till there was this beginning; and if the Gods have had abeginning, they must necessarily have an end, as you have beforecontended when you were discussing Plato's world. Where, then, is yourbeatitude and immortality, in which two words you say that God isexpressed, the endeavor to prove which reduces you to the greatestperplexities? For you said that God had no body, but something likebody; and no blood, but something like blood. 

XXV. It is a frequent practice among you, when you assert anything thathas no resemblance to truth, and wish to avoid reprehension, to advancesomething else which is absolutely and utterly impossible, in orderthat it may seem to your adversaries better to grant that point whichhas been a matter of doubt than to keep on pertinaciously contradictingyou on every point: like Epicurus, who, when he found that if his atomswere allowed to descend by their own weight, our actions could not bein our own power, because their motions would be certain and necessary, invented an expedient, which escaped Democritus, to avoid necessity. Hesays that when the atoms descend by their own weight and gravity, theymove a little obliquely. Surely, to make such an assertion as this iswhat one ought more to be ashamed of than the acknowledging ourselvesunable to defend the proposition. His practice is the same against thelogicians, who say that in all propositions in which yes or no isrequired, one of them must be true; he was afraid that if this weregranted, then, in such a proposition as "Epicurus will be alive or deadto-morrow, " either one or the other must necessarily be admitted;therefore he absolutely denied the necessity of yes or no. Can anythingshow stupidity in a greater degree? Zeno, [89] being pressed byArcesilas, who pronounced all things to be false which are perceived bythe senses, said that some things were false, but not all. Epicurus wasafraid that if any one thing seen should be false, nothing could betrue; and therefore he asserted all the senses to be infallibledirectors of truth. Nothing can be more rash than this; for byendeavoring to repel a light stroke, he receives a heavy blow. On thesubject of the nature of the Gods, he falls into the same errors. Whilehe would avoid the concretion of individual bodies, lest death anddissolution should be the consequence, he denies that the Gods havebody, but says they have something like body; and says they have noblood, but something like blood. 

XXVI. It seems an unaccountable thing how one soothsayer can refrainfrom laughing when he sees another. It is yet a greater wonder that youcan refrain from laughing among yourselves. It is no body, butsomething like body! I could understand this if it were applied tostatues made of wax or clay; but in regard to the Deity, I am not ableto discover what is meant by a quasi-body or quasi-blood. Nor indeedare you, Velleius, though you will not confess so much. For thoseprecepts are delivered to you as dictates which Epicurus carelesslyblundered out; for he boasted, as we see in his writings, that he hadno instructor, which I could easily believe without his publicdeclaration of it, for the same reason that I could believe the masterof a very bad edifice if he were to boast that he had no architect buthimself: for there is nothing of the Academy, nothing of the Lyceum, inhis doctrine; nothing but puerilities. He might have been a pupil ofXenocrates. O ye immortal Gods, what a teacher was he! And there arethose who believe that he actually was his pupil; but he saysotherwise, and I shall give more credit to his word than to another's. He confesses that he was a pupil of a certain disciple of Plato, onePamphilus, at Samos; for he lived there when he was young, with hisfather and his brothers. His father, Neocles, was a farmer in thoseparts; but as the farm, I suppose, was not sufficient to maintain him, he turned school-master; yet Epicurus treats this Platonic philosopherwith wonderful contempt, so fearful was he that it should be thought hehad ever had any instruction. But it is well known he had been a pupilof Nausiphanes, the follower of Democritus; and since he could not denyit, he loaded him with insults in abundance. If he never heard alecture on these Democritean principles, what lectures did he everhear? What is there in Epicurus's physics that is not taken fromDemocritus? For though he altered some things, as what I mentionedbefore of the oblique motions of the atoms, yet most of his doctrinesare the same; his atoms--his vacuum--his images--infinity ofspace--innumerable worlds, their rise and decay--and almost every partof natural learning that he treats of. 

Now, do you understand what is meant by quasi-body and quasi-blood? ForI not only acknowledge that you are a better judge of it than I am, butI can bear it without envy. If any sentiments, indeed, are communicatedwithout obscurity, what is there that Velleius can understand and Cottanot? I know what body is, and what blood is; but I cannot possibly findout the meaning of quasi-body and quasi-blood. Not that youintentionally conceal your principles from me, as Pythagoras did hisfrom those who were not his disciples; or that you are intentionallyobscure, like Heraclitus. But the truth is (which I may venture to sayin this company), you do not understand them yourself. 

XXVII. This, I perceive, is what you contend for, that the Gods have acertain figure that has nothing concrete, nothing solid, nothing ofexpress substance, nothing prominent in it; but that it is pure, smooth, and transparent. Let us suppose the same with the Venus of Cos, which is not a body, but the representation of a body; nor is the red, which is drawn there and mixed with the white, real blood, but acertain resemblance of blood; so in Epicurus's Deity there is no realsubstance, but the resemblance of substance. 

Let me take for granted that which is perfectly unintelligible; thentell me what are the lineaments and figures of these sketched-outDeities. Here you have plenty of arguments by which you would show theGods to be in human form. The first is, that our minds are soanticipated and prepossessed, that whenever we think of a Deity thehuman shape occurs to us. The next is, that as the divine nature excelsall things, so it ought to be of the most beautiful form, and there isno form more beautiful than the human; and the third is, that reasoncannot reside in any other shape. 

First, let us consider each argument separately. You seem to me toassume a principle, despotically I may say, that has no manner ofprobability in it. Who was ever so blind, in contemplating thesesubjects, as not to see that the Gods were represented in human form, either by the particular advice of wise men, who thought by those meansthe more easily to turn the minds of the ignorant from a depravity ofmanners to the worship of the Gods; or through superstition, which wasthe cause of their believing that when they were paying adoration tothese images they were approaching the Gods themselves. These conceitswere not a little improved by the poets, painters, and artificers; forit would not have been very easy to represent the Gods planning andexecuting any work in another form, and perhaps this opinion arose fromthe idea which mankind have of their own beauty. But do not you, whoare so great an adept in physics, see what a soothing flatterer, what asort of procuress, nature is to herself? Do you think there is anycreature on the land or in the sea that is not highly delighted withits own form? If it were not so, why would not a bull become enamoredof a mare, or a horse of a cow? Do you believe an eagle, a lion, or adolphin prefers any shape to its own? If nature, therefore, hasinstructed us in the same manner, that nothing is more beautiful thanman, what wonder is it that we, for that reason, should imagine theGods are of the human form? Do you suppose if beasts were endowed withreason that every one would not give the prize of beauty to his ownspecies?

XXVIII. Yet, by Hercules (I speak as I think)! though I am fond enoughof myself, I dare not say that I excel in beauty that bull whichcarried Europa. For the question here is not concerning our genius andelocution, but our species and figure. If we could make and assume toourselves any form, would you be unwilling to resemble the sea-tritonas he is painted supported swimming on sea-monsters whose bodies arepartly human? Here I touch on a difficult point; for so great is theforce of nature that there is no man who would not choose to be like aman, nor, indeed, any ant that would not be like an ant. But like whatman? For how few can pretend to beauty! When I was at Athens, the wholeflock of youths afforded scarcely one. You laugh, I see; but what Itell you is the truth. Nay, to us who, after the examples of ancientphilosophers, delight in boys, defects are often pleasing. Alcæus wascharmed with a wart on a boy's knuckle; but a wart is a blemish on thebody; yet it seemed a beauty to him. Q. Catulus, my friend andcolleague's father, was enamored with your fellow-citizen Roscius, onwhom he wrote these verses:

 As once I stood to hail the rising day, Roscius appearing on the left I spied: Forgive me, Gods, if I presume to say The mortal's beauty with th' immortal vied. 

Roscius more beautiful than a God! yet he was then, as he now is, squint-eyed. But what signifies that, if his defects were beauties toCatulus?

XXIX. I return to the Gods. Can we suppose any of them to besquint-eyed, or even to have a cast in the eye? Have they any warts?Are any of them hook-nosed, flap-eared, beetle-browed, or jolt-headed, as some of us are? Or are they free from imperfections? Let us grantyou that. Are they all alike in the face? For if they are many, thenone must necessarily be more beautiful than another, and then theremust be some Deity not absolutely most beautiful. Or if their faces areall alike, there would be an Academy[90] in heaven; for if one God doesnot differ from another, there is no possibility of knowing ordistinguishing them. 

What if your assertion, Velleius, proves absolutely false, that no formoccurs to us, in our contemplations on the Deity, but the human? Willyou, notwithstanding that, persist in the defence of such an absurdity?Supposing that form occurs to us, as you say it does, and we knowJupiter, Juno, Minerva, Neptune, Vulcan, Apollo, and the other Deities, by the countenance which painters and statuaries have given them, andnot only by their countenances, but by their decorations, their age, and attire; yet the Egyptians, the Syrians, and almost all barbarousnations, [91] are without such distinctions. You may see a greaterregard paid by them to certain beasts than by us to the most sacredtemples and images of the Gods; for many shrines have been rifled, andimages of the Deities have been carried from their most sacred placesby us; but we never heard that an Egyptian offered any violence to acrocodile, an ibis, or a cat. What do you think, then? Do not theEgyptians esteem their sacred bull, their Apis, as a Deity? Yes, byHercules! as certainly as you do our protectress Juno, whom you neverbehold, even in your dreams, without a goat-skin, a spear, a shield, and broad sandals. But the Grecian Juno of Argos and the Roman Juno arenot represented in this manner; so that the Grecians, the Lanuvinians, and we, ascribe different forms to Juno; and our Capitoline Jupiter isnot the same with the Jupiter Ammon of the Africans. 

XXX. Therefore, ought not a natural philosopher--that is, an inquirerinto the secrets of nature--to be ashamed of seeking a testimony totruth from minds prepossessed by custom? According to the rule you havelaid down, it may be said that Jupiter is always bearded, Apollo alwaysbeardless; that Minerva has gray and Neptune azure eyes; and, indeed, we must then honor that Vulcan at Athens, made by Alcamenes, whoselameness through his thin robes appears to be no deformity. Shall we, therefore, receive a lame Deity because we have such an account of him?

Consider, likewise, that the Gods go by what names we give them. Now, in the first place, they have as many names as men have languages; forVulcan is not called Vulcan in Italy, Africa, or Spain, as you arecalled Velleius in all countries. Besides, the Gods are innumerable, though the list of their names is of no great length even in therecords of our priests. Have they no names? You must necessarilyconfess, indeed, they have none; for what occasion is there fordifferent names if their persons are alike?

How much more laudable would it be, Velleius, to acknowledge that youdo not know what you do not know than to follow a man whom you mustdespise! Do you think the Deity is like either me or you? You do notreally think he is like either of us. What is to be done, then? Shall Icall the sun, the moon, or the sky a Deity? If so, they areconsequently happy. But what pleasures can they enjoy? And they arewise too. But how can wisdom reside in such shapes? These are your ownprinciples. Therefore, if they are not of human form, as I have proved, and if you cannot persuade yourself that they are of any other, why areyou cautious of denying absolutely the being of any Gods? You dare notdeny it--which is very prudent in you, though here you are not afraidof the people, but of the Gods themselves. I have known Epicureans whoreverence[92] even the least images of the Gods, though I perceive itto be the opinion of some that Epicurus, through fear of offendingagainst the Athenian laws, has allowed a Deity in words and destroyedhim in fact; so in those his select and short sentences, which arecalled by you [Greek: kyriai doxai], [93] this, I think, is the first:"That being which is happy and immortal is not burdened with any labor, and does not impose any on any one else. "

XXXI. In his statement of this sentence, some think that he avoidedspeaking clearly on purpose, though it was manifestly without design. But they judge ill of a man who had not the least art. It is doubtfulwhether he means that there is any being happy and immortal, or that ifthere is any being happy, he must likewise be immortal. They do notconsider that he speaks here, indeed, ambiguously; but in many otherplaces both he and Metrodorus explain themselves as clearly as you havedone. But he believed there are Gods; nor have I ever seen any one whowas more exceedingly afraid of what he declared ought to be no objectsof fear, namely, death and the Gods, with the apprehensions of whichthe common rank of people are very little affected; but he says thatthe minds of all mortals are terrified by them. Many thousands of mencommit robberies in the face of death; others rifle all the templesthey can get into: such as these, no doubt, must be greatly terrified, the one by the fears of death, and the others by the fear of the Gods. 

But since you dare not (for I am now addressing my discourse toEpicurus himself) absolutely deny the existence of the Gods, whathinders you from ascribing a divine nature to the sun, the world, orsome eternal mind? I never, says he, saw wisdom and a rational soul inany but a human form. What! did you ever observe anything like the sun, the moon, or the five moving planets? The sun, terminating his coursein two extreme parts of one circle, [94] finishes his annualrevolutions. The moon, receiving her light from the sun, completes thesame course in the space of a month. [95] The five planets in the samecircle, some nearer, others more remote from the earth, begin the samecourses together, and finish them in different spaces of time. Did youever observe anything like this, Epicurus? So that, according to you, there can be neither sun, moon, nor stars, because nothing can existbut what we have touched or seen. [96] What! have you ever seen theDeity himself? Why else do you believe there is any? If this doctrineprevails, we must reject all that history relates or reason discovers;and the people who inhabit inland countries must not believe there issuch a thing as the sea. This is so narrow a way of thinking that ifyou had been born in Seriphus, and never had been from out of thatisland, where you had frequently been in the habit of seeing littlehares and foxes, you would not, therefore, believe that there are suchbeasts as lions and panthers; and if any one should describe anelephant to you, you would think that he designed to laugh at you. 

XXXII. You indeed, Velleius, have concluded your argument, not afterthe manner of your own sect, but of the logicians, to which your peopleare utter strangers. You have taken it for granted that the Gods arehappy. I allow it. You say that without virtue no one can be happy. Iwillingly concur with you in this also. You likewise say that virtuecannot reside where reason is not. That I must necessarily allow. Youadd, moreover, that reason cannot exist but in a human form. Who, doyou think, will admit that? If it were true, what occasion was there tocome so gradually to it? And to what purpose? You might have answeredit on your own authority. I perceive your gradations from happiness tovirtue, and from virtue to reason; but how do you come from reason tohuman form? There, indeed, you do not descend by degrees, butprecipitately. 

Nor can I conceive why Epicurus should rather say the Gods are like menthan that men are like the Gods. You ask what is the difference; for, say you, if this is like that, that is like this. I grant it; but thisI assert, that the Gods could not take their form from men; for theGods always existed, and never had a beginning, if they are to existeternally; but men had a beginning: therefore that form, of which theimmortal Gods are, must have had existence before mankind;consequently, the Gods should not be said to be of human form, but ourform should be called divine. However, let this be as you will. I nowinquire how this extraordinary good fortune came about; for you denythat reason had any share in the formation of things. But still, whatwas this extraordinary fortune? Whence proceeded that happy concourseof atoms which gave so sudden a rise to men in the form of Gods? Are weto suppose the divine seed fell from heaven upon earth, and that mensprung up in the likeness of their celestial sires? I wish you wouldassert it; for I should not be unwilling to acknowledge my relation tothe Gods. But you say nothing like it; no, our resemblance to the Gods, it seems, was by chance. Must I now seek for arguments to refute thisdoctrine seriously? I wish I could as easily discover what is true as Ican overthrow what is false. 

XXXIII. You have enumerated with so ready a memory, and so copiously, the opinions of philosophers, from Thales the Milesian, concerning thenature of the Gods, that I am surprised to see so much learning in aRoman. But do you think they were all madmen who thought that a Deitycould by some possibility exist without hands and feet? Does not eventhis consideration have weight with you when you consider what is theuse and advantage of limbs in men, and lead you to admit that the Godshave no need of them? What necessity can there be of feet, withoutwalking; or of hands, if there is nothing to be grasped? The same maybe asked of the other parts of the body, in which nothing is vain, nothing useless, nothing superfluous; therefore we may infer that noart can imitate the skill of nature. Shall the Deity, then, have atongue, and not speak--teeth, palate, and jaws, though he will have nouse for them? Shall the members which nature has given to the body forthe sake of generation be useless to the Deity? Nor would the internalparts be less superfluous than the external. What comeliness is therein the heart, the lungs, the liver, and the rest of them, abstractedfrom their use? I mention these because you place them in the Deity onaccount of the beauty of the human form. 

Depending on these dreams, not only Epicurus, Metrodorus, and Hermachusdeclaimed against Pythagoras, Plato, and Empedocles, but that littleharlot Leontium presumed to write against Theophrastus: indeed, she hada neat Attic style; but yet, to think of her arguing againstTheophrastus! So much did the garden of Epicurus[97] abound with theseliberties, and, indeed, you are always complaining against them. Zenowrangled. Why need I mention Albutius? Nothing could be more elegant orhumane than Phædrus; yet a sharp expression would disgust the old man. Epicurus treated Aristotle with great contumely. He foully slanderedPhædo, the disciple of Socrates. He pelted Timocrates, the brother ofhis companion Metrodorus, with whole volumes, because he disagreed withhim in some trifling point of philosophy. He was ungrateful even toDemocritus, whose follower he was; and his master Nausiphanes, fromwhom he learned nothing, had no better treatment from him. 

XXXIV. Zeno gave abusive language not only to those who were thenliving, as Apollodorus, Syllus, and the rest, but he called Socrates, who was the father of philosophy, the Attic buffoon, using the Latinword _Scurra_. He never called Chrysippus by any name but Chesippus. And you yourself a little before, when you were numbering up a senate, as we may call them, of philosophers, scrupled not to say that the mosteminent men talked like foolish, visionary dotards. Certainly, therefore, if they have all erred in regard to the nature of the Gods, it is to be feared there are no such beings. What you deliver on thathead are all whimsical notions, and not worthy the consideration evenof old women. For you do not seem to be in the least aware what a taskyou draw on yourselves, if you should prevail on us to grant that thesame form is common to Gods and men. The Deity would then require thesame trouble in dressing, and the same care of the body, that mankinddoes. He must walk, run, lie down, lean, sit, hold, speak, anddiscourse. You need not be told the consequence of making the Gods maleand female. 

Therefore I cannot sufficiently wonder how this chief of yours came toentertain these strange opinions. But you constantly insist on thecertainty of this tenet, that the Deity is both happy and immortal. Supposing he is so, would his happiness be less perfect if he had nottwo feet? Or cannot that blessedness or beatitude--call it which youwill (they are both harsh terms, but we must mollify them by use)--canit not, I say, exist in that sun, or in this world, or in some eternalmind that has not human shape or limbs? All you say against it is, thatyou never saw any happiness in the sun or the world. What, then? Didyou ever see any world but this? No, you will say. Why, therefore, doyou presume to assert that there are not only six hundred thousandworlds, but that they are innumerable? Reason tells you so. Will notreason tell you likewise that as, in our inquiries into the mostexcellent nature, we find none but the divine nature can be happy andeternal, so the same divine nature surpasses us in excellence of mind;and as in mind, so in body? Why, therefore, as we are inferior in allother respects, should we be equal in form? For human virtue approachesnearer to the divinity than human form. 

XXXV. To return to the subject I was upon. What can be more childishthan to assert that there are no such creatures as are generated in theRed Sea or in India? The most curious inquirer cannot arrive at theknowledge of all those creatures which inhabit the earth, sea, fens, and rivers; and shall we deny the existence of them because we neversaw them? That similitude which you are so very fond of is nothing tothe purpose. Is not a dog like a wolf? And, as Ennius says, The monkey, filthiest beast, how like to man!

Yet they differ in nature. No beast has more sagacity than an elephant;yet where can you find any of a larger size? I am speaking here ofbeasts. But among men, do we not see a disparity of manners in personsvery much alike, and a similitude of manners in persons unlike? If thissort of argument were once to prevail, Velleius, observe what it wouldlead to. You have laid it down as certain that reason cannot possiblyreside in any but the human form. Another may affirm that it can existin none but a terrestrial being; in none but a being that is born, thatgrows up, and receives instruction, and that consists of a soul, and aninfirm and perishable body; in short, in none but a mortal man. But ifyou decline those opinions, why should a single form disturb you? Youperceive that man is possessed of reason and understanding, with allthe infirmities which I have mentioned interwoven with his being;abstracted from which, you nevertheless know God, you say, if thelineaments do but remain. This is not talking considerately, but at aventure; for surely you did not think what an encumbrance anythingsuperfluous or useless is, not only in a man, but a tree. Howtroublesome it is to have a finger too much! And why so? Becauseneither use nor ornament requires more than five; but your Deity hasnot only a finger more than he wants, but a head, a neck, shoulders, sides, a paunch, back, hams, hands, feet, thighs, and legs. Are theseparts necessary to immortality? Are they conducive to the existence ofthe Deity? Is the face itself of use? One would rather say so of thebrain, the heart, the lights, and the liver; for these are the seats oflife. The features of the face contribute nothing to the preservationof it. 

XXXVI. You censured those who, beholding those excellent and stupendousworks, the world, and its respective parts--the heaven, the earth, theseas--and the splendor with which they are adorned; who, contemplatingthe sun, moon, and stars; and who, observing the maturity and changesof the seasons, and vicissitudes of times, inferred from thence thatthere must be some excellent and eminent essence that originally made, and still moves, directs, and governs them. Suppose they should mistakein their conjecture, yet I see what they aim at. But what is that greatand noble work which appears to you to be the effect of a divine mind, and from which you conclude that there are Gods? "I have, " say you, "acertain information of a Deity imprinted in my mind. " Of a beardedJupiter, I suppose, and a helmeted Minerva. 

But do you really imagine them to be such? How much better are thenotions of the ignorant vulgar, who not only believe the Deities havemembers like ours, but that they make use of them; and therefore theyassign them a bow and arrows, a spear, a shield, a trident, andlightning; and though they do not behold the actions of the Gods, yetthey cannot entertain a thought of a Deity doing nothing. The Egyptians(so much ridiculed) held no beasts to be sacred, except on account ofsome advantage which they had received from them. The ibis, a verylarge bird, with strong legs and a horny long beak, destroys a greatnumber of serpents. These birds keep Egypt from pestilential diseasesby killing and devouring the flying serpents brought from the desertsof Lybia by the south-west wind, which prevents the mischief that mayattend their biting while alive, or any infection when dead. I couldspeak of the advantage of the ichneumon, the crocodile, and the cat;but I am unwilling to be tedious; yet I will conclude with observingthat the barbarians paid divine honors to beasts because of thebenefits they received from them; whereas your Gods not only confer nobenefit, but are idle, and do no single act of any descriptionwhatever. 

XXXVII. "They have nothing to do, " your teacher says. Epicurus truly, like indolent boys, thinks nothing preferable to idleness; yet thosevery boys, when they have a holiday, entertain themselves in somesportive exercise. But we are to suppose the Deity in such an inactivestate that if he should move we may justly fear he would be no longerhappy. This doctrine divests the Gods of motion and operation; besides, it encourages men to be lazy, as they are by this taught to believethat the least labor is incompatible even with divine felicity. 

But let it be as you would have it, that the Deity is in the form andimage of a man. Where is his abode? Where is his habitation? Where isthe place where he is to be found? What is his course of life? And whatis it that constitutes the happiness which you assert that he enjoys?For it seems necessary that a being who is to be happy must use andenjoy what belongs to him. And with regard to place, even those natureswhich are inanimate have each their proper stations assigned to them:so that the earth is the lowest; then water is next above the earth;the air is above the water; and fire has the highest situation of allallotted to it. Some creatures inhabit the earth, some the water, andsome, of an amphibious nature, live in both. There are some, also, which are thought to be born in fire, and which often appear flutteringin burning furnaces. 

In the first place, therefore, I ask you, Where is the habitation ofyour Deity? Secondly, What motive is it that stirs him from his place, supposing he ever moves? And, lastly, since it is peculiar to animatedbeings to have an inclination to something that is agreeable to theirseveral natures, what is it that the Deity affects, and to what purposedoes he exert the motion of his mind and reason? In short, how is hehappy? how eternal? Whichever of these points you touch upon, I amafraid you will come lamely off. For there is never a proper end toreasoning which proceeds on a false foundation; for you assertedlikewise that the form of the Deity is perceptible by the mind, but notby sense; that it is neither solid, nor invariable in number; that itis to be discerned by similitude and transition, and that a constantsupply of images is perpetually flowing on from innumerable atoms, onwhich our minds are intent; so that we from that conclude that divinenature to be happy and everlasting. 

XXXVIII. What, in the name of those Deities concerning whom we are nowdisputing, is the meaning of all this? For if they exist only inthought, and have no solidity nor substance, what difference can therebe between thinking of a Hippocentaur and thinking of a Deity? Otherphilosophers call every such conformation of the mind a vain motion;but you term it "the approach and entrance of images into the mind. "Thus, when I imagine that I behold T. Gracchus haranguing the people inthe Capitol, and collecting their suffrages concerning M. Octavius, Icall that a vain motion of the mind: but you affirm that the images ofGracchus and Octavius are present, which are only conveyed to my mindwhen they have arrived at the Capitol. The case is the same, you say, in regard to the Deity, with the frequent representation of which themind is so affected that from thence it may be clearly understood thatthe Gods[98] are happy and eternal. 

Let it be granted that there are images by which the mind is affected, yet it is only a certain form that occurs; and why must that form bepronounced happy? why eternal? But what are those images you talk of, or whence do they proceed? This loose manner of arguing is taken fromDemocritus; but he is reproved by many people for it; nor can youderive any conclusions from it: the whole system is weak and imperfect. For what can be more improbable than that the images of Homer, Archilochus, Romulus, Numa, Pythagoras, and Plato should come into mymind, and yet not in the form in which they existed? How, therefore, can they be those persons? And whose images are they? Aristotle tellsus that there never was such a person as Orpheus the poet;[99] and itis said that the verse called Orphic verse was the invention ofCercops, a Pythagorean; yet Orpheus, that is to say, the image of him, as you will have it, often runs in my head. What is the reason that Ientertain one idea of the figure of the same person, and you another?Why do we image to ourselves such things as never had any existence, and which never can have, such as Scyllas and Chimæras? Why do we frameideas of men, countries, and cities which we never saw? How is it thatthe very first moment that I choose I can form representations of themin my mind? How is it that they come to me, even in my sleep, withoutbeing called or sought after?

XXXIX. The whole affair, Velleius, is ridiculous. You do not imposeimages on our eyes only, but on our minds. Such is the privilege whichyou have assumed of talking nonsense with impunity. But there is, yousay, a transition of images flowing on in great crowds in such a waythat out of many some one at least must be perceived! I should beashamed of my incapacity to understand this if you, who assert it, could comprehend it yourselves; for how do you prove that these imagesare continued in uninterrupted motion? Or, if uninterrupted, still howdo you prove them to be eternal? There is a constant supply, you say, of innumerable atoms. But must they, for that reason, be all eternal?To elude this, you have recourse to equilibration (for so, with yourleave, I will call your [Greek: Isonomia]), [100] and say that as thereis a sort of nature mortal, so there must also be a sort which isimmortal. By the same rule, as there are men mortal, there are menimmortal; and as some arise from the earth, some must arise from thewater also; and as there are causes which destroy, there must likewisebe causes which preserve. Be it as you say; but let those causespreserve which have existence themselves. I cannot conceive these yourGods to have any. But how does all this face of things arise fromatomic corpuscles? Were there any such atoms (as there are not), theymight perhaps impel one another, and be jumbled together in theirmotion; but they could never be able to impart form, or figure, orcolor, or animation, so that you by no means demonstrate theimmortality of your Deity. 

XL. Let us now inquire into his happiness. It is certain that withoutvirtue there can be no happiness; but virtue consists in action: nowyour Deity does nothing; therefore he is void of virtue, andconsequently cannot be happy. What sort of life does he lead? He has aconstant supply, you say, of good things, without any intermixture ofbad. What are those good things? Sensual pleasures, no doubt; for youknow no delight of the mind but what arises from the body, and returnsto it. I do not suppose, Velleius, that you are like some of theEpicureans, who are ashamed of those expressions of Epicurus, [101] inwhich he openly avows that he has no idea of any good separate fromwanton and obscene pleasures, which, without a blush, he namesdistinctly. What food, therefore, what drink, what variety of music orflowers, what kind of pleasures of touch, what odors, will you offer tothe Gods to fill them with pleasures? The poets indeed provide themwith banquets of nectar and ambrosia, and a Hebe or a Ganymede to serveup the cup. But what is it, Epicurus, that you do for them? For I donot see from whence your Deity should have those things, nor how hecould use them. Therefore the nature of man is better constituted for ahappy life than the nature of the Gods, because men enjoy various kindsof pleasures; but you look on all those pleasures as superficial whichdelight the senses only by a titillation, as Epicurus calls it. Whereis to be the end of this trifling? Even Philo, who followed theAcademy, could not bear to hear the soft and luscious delights of theEpicureans despised; for with his admirable memory he perfectlyremembered and used to repeat many sentences of Epicurus in the verywords in which they were written. He likewise used to quote many, whichwere more gross, from Metrodorus, the sage colleague of Epicurus, whoblamed his brother Timocrates because he would not allow thateverything which had any reference to a happy life was to be measuredby the belly; nor has he said this once only, but often. You grant whatI say, I perceive; for you know it to be true. I can produce the books, if you should deny it; but I am not now reproving you for referring allthings to the standard of pleasure: that is another question. What I amnow showing is, that your Gods are destitute of pleasure; andtherefore, according to your own manner of reasoning, they are nothappy. 

XLI. But they are free from pain. Is that sufficient for beings who aresupposed to enjoy all good things and the most supreme felicity? TheDeity, they say, is constantly meditating on his own happiness, for hehas no other idea which can possibly occupy his mind. Consider alittle; reflect what a figure the Deity would make if he were to beidly thinking of nothing through all eternity but "It is very well withme, and I am happy;" nor do I see why this happy Deity should not fearbeing destroyed, since, without any intermission, he is driven andagitated by an everlasting incursion of atoms, and since images areconstantly floating off from him. Your Deity, therefore, is neitherhappy nor eternal. 

Epicurus, it seems, has written books concerning sanctity and pietytowards the Gods. But how does he speak on these subjects? You wouldsay that you were listening to Coruncanius or Scævola, thehigh-priests, and not to a man who tore up all religion by the roots, and who overthrew the temples and altars of the immortal Gods; not, indeed, with hands, like Xerxes, but with arguments; for what reason isthere for your saying that men ought to worship the Gods, when the Godsnot only do not regard men, but are entirely careless of everything, and absolutely do nothing at all?

But they are, you say, of so glorious and excellent a nature that awise man is induced by their excellence to adore them. Can there be anyglory or excellence in that nature which only contemplates its ownhappiness, and neither will do, nor does, nor ever did anything?Besides, what piety is due to a being from whom you receive nothing? Orhow can you, or any one else, be indebted to him who bestows nobenefits? For piety is only justice towards the Gods; but what righthave they to it, when there is no communication whatever between theGods and men? And sanctity is the knowledge of how we ought to worshipthem; but I do not understand why they are to be worshipped, if we areneither to receive nor expect any good from them. 

XLII. And why should we worship them from an admiration only of thatnature in which we can behold nothing excellent? and as for thatfreedom from superstition, which you are in the habit of boasting of somuch, it is easy to be free from that feeling when you have renouncedall belief in the power of the Gods; unless, indeed, you imagine thatDiagoras or Theodorus, who absolutely denied the being of the Gods, could possibly be superstitious. I do not suppose that even Protagorascould, who doubted whether there were Gods or not. The opinions ofthese philosophers are not only destructive of superstition, whicharises from a vain fear of the Gods, but of religion also, whichconsists in a pious adoration of them. 

What think you of those who have asserted that the whole doctrineconcerning the immortal Gods was the invention of politicians, whoseview was to govern that part of the community by religion which reasoncould not influence? Are not their opinions subversive of all religion?Or what religion did Prodicus the Chian leave to men, who held thateverything beneficial to human life should be numbered among the Gods?Were not they likewise void of religion who taught that the Deities, atpresent the object of our prayers and adoration, were valiant, illustrious, and mighty men who arose to divinity after death?Euhemerus, whom our Ennius translated, and followed more than otherauthors, has particularly advanced this doctrine, and treated of thedeaths and burials of the Gods; can he, then, be said to have confirmedreligion, or, rather, to have totally subverted it? I shall say nothingof that sacred and august Eleusina, into whose mysteries the mostdistant nations were initiated, nor of the solemnities in Samothrace, or in Lemnos, secretly resorted to by night, and surrounded by thickand shady groves; which, if they were properly explained, and reducedto reasonable principles, would rather explain the nature of thingsthan discover the knowledge of the Gods. 

XLIII. Even that great man Democritus, from whose fountains Epicuruswatered his little garden, seems to me to be very inferior to his usualacuteness when speaking about the nature of the Gods. For at one timehe thinks that there are images endowed with divinity, inherent in theuniversality of things; at another, that the principles and mindscontained in the universe are Gods; then he attributes divinity toanimated images, employing themselves in doing us good or harm; and, lastly, he speaks of certain images of such vast extent that theyencompass the whole outside of the universe; all which opinions aremore worthy of the country[102] of Democritus than of Democritushimself; for who can frame in his mind any ideas of such images? whocan admire them? who can think they merit a religious adoration?

But Epicurus, when he divests the Gods of the power of doing good, extirpates all religion from the minds of men; for though he says thedivine nature is the best and the most excellent of all natures, hewill not allow it to be susceptible of any benevolence, by which hedestroys the chief and peculiar attribute of the most perfect being. For what is better and more excellent than goodness and beneficence? Torefuse your Gods that quality is to say that no man is any object oftheir favor, and no Gods either; that they neither love nor esteem anyone; in short, that they not only give themselves no trouble about us, but even look on each other with the greatest indifference. 

XLIV. How much more reasonable is the doctrine of the Stoics, whom youcensure? It is one of their maxims that the wise are friends to thewise, though unknown to each other; for as nothing is more amiable thanvirtue, he who possesses it is worthy our love, to whatever country hebelongs. But what evils do your principles bring, when you make goodactions and benevolence the marks of imbecility! For, not to mentionthe power and nature of the Gods, you hold that even men, if they hadno need of mutual assistance, would be neither courteous norbeneficent. Is there no natural charity in the dispositions of goodmen? The very name of love, from which friendship is derived, is dearto men;[103] and if friendship is to centre in our own advantage only, without regard to him whom we esteem a friend, it cannot be calledfriendship, but a sort of traffic for our own profit. Pastures, lands, and herds of cattle are valued in the same manner on account of theprofit we gather from them; but charity and friendship expect noreturn. How much more reason have we to think that the Gods, who wantnothing, should love each other, and employ themselves about us! If itwere not so, why should we pray to or adore them? Why do the priestspreside over the altars, and the augurs over the auspices? What have weto ask of the Gods, and why do we prefer our vows to them?

But Epicurus, you say, has written a book concerning sanctity. Atrifling performance by a man whose wit is not so remarkable in it, asthe unrestrained license of writing which he has permitted himself; forwhat sanctity can there be if the Gods take no care of human affairs?Or how can that nature be called animated which neither regards norperforms anything? Therefore our friend Posidonius has well observed, in his fifth book of the Nature of the Gods, that Epicurus believedthere were no Gods, and that what he had said about the immortal Godswas only said from a desire to avoid unpopularity. He could not be soweak as to imagine that the Deity has only the outward features of asimple mortal, without any real solidity; that he has all the membersof a man, without the least power to use them--a certain unsubstantialpellucid being, neither favorable nor beneficial to any one, neitherregarding nor doing anything. There can be no such being in nature; andas Epicurus said this plainly, he allows the Gods in words, anddestroys them in fact; and if the Deity is truly such a being that heshows no favor, no benevolence to mankind, away with him! For whyshould I entreat him to be propitious? He can be propitious to none, since, as you say, all his favor and benevolence are the effects ofimbecility. 

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BOOK II. 

I. When Cotta had thus concluded, Velleius replied: I certainly wasinconsiderate to engage in argument with an Academician who is likewisea rhetorician. I should not have feared an Academician withouteloquence, nor a rhetorician without that philosophy, however eloquenthe might be; for I am never puzzled by an empty flow of words, nor bythe most subtle reasonings delivered without any grace of oratory. Butyou, Cotta, have excelled in both. You only wanted the assembly and thejudges. However, enough of this at present. Now, let us hear whatLucilius has to say, if it is agreeable to him. 

I had much rather, says Balbus, hear Cotta resume his discourse, anddemonstrate the true Gods with the same eloquence which he made use ofto explode the false; for, on such a subject, the loose, unsettleddoctrine of the Academy does not become a philosopher, a priest, aCotta, whose opinions should be, like those we hold, firm and certain. Epicurus has been more than sufficiently refuted; but I would willinglyhear your own sentiments, Cotta. 

Do you forget, replies Cotta, what I at first said--that it is easierfor me, especially on this point, to explain what opinions those arewhich I do not hold, rather than what those are which I do? Nay, evenif I did feel some certainty on any particular point, yet, after havingbeen so diffuse myself already, I would prefer now hearing you speak inyour turn. I submit, says Balbus, and will be as brief as I possiblycan; for as you have confuted the errors of Epicurus, my part in thedispute will be the shorter. Our sect divide the whole questionconcerning the immortal Gods into four parts. First, they prove thatthere are Gods; secondly, of what character and nature they are;thirdly, that the universe is governed by them; and, lastly, that theyexercise a superintendence over human affairs. But in this presentdiscussion let us confine ourselves to the first two articles, anddefer the third and fourth till another opportunity, as they requiremore time to discuss. By no means, says Cotta, for we have time enoughon our hands; besides that, we are now discussing a subject whichshould be preferred even to serious business. 

II. The first point, then, says Lucilius, I think needs no discourse toprove it; for what can be so plain and evident, when we behold theheavens and contemplate the celestial bodies, as the existence of somesupreme, divine intelligence, by which all these things are governed?Were it otherwise, Ennius would not, with a universal approbation, havesaid, Look up to the refulgent heaven above, Which all men call, unanimously, Jove. 

This is Jupiter, the governor of the world, who rules all things withhis nod, and is, as the same Ennius adds, ----of Gods and men the sire, [104]

an omnipresent and omnipotent God. And if any one doubts this, I reallydo not understand why the same man may not also doubt whether there isa sun or not. For what can possibly be more evident than this? And ifit were not a truth universally impressed on the minds of men, thebelief in it would never have been so firm; nor would it have been, asit is, increased by length of years, nor would it have gatheredstrength and stability through every age. And, in truth, we see thatother opinions, being false and groundless, have already fallen intooblivion by lapse of time. Who now believes in Hippocentaurs andChimæras? Or what old woman is now to be found so weak and ignorant asto stand in fear of those infernal monsters which once so terrifiedmankind? For time destroys the fictions of error and opinion, while itconfirms the determinations of nature and of truth. And therefore it isthat, both among us and among other nations, sacred institutions andthe divine worship of the Gods have been strengthened and improved fromtime to time. And this is not to be imputed to chance or folly, but tothe frequent appearance of the Gods themselves. In the war with theLatins, when A. Posthumius, the dictator, attacked Octavius Mamilius, the Tusculan, at Regillus, Castor and Pollux were seen fighting in ourarmy on horseback; and since that the same offspring of Tyndarus gavenotice of the defeat of Perses; for as P. Vatienus, the grandfather ofthe present young man of that name, was coming in the night to Romefrom his government of Reate, two young men on white horses appeared tohim, and told him that King[105] Perses was that day taken prisoner. This news he carried to the senate, who immediately threw him intoprison for speaking inconsiderately on a state affair; but when it wasconfirmed by letters from Paullus, he was recompensed by the senatewith land and immunities. [106] Nor do we forget when the Locriansdefeated the people of Crotone, in a great battle on the banks of theriver Sagra, that it was known the same day at the Olympic Games. Thevoices of the Fauns have been often heard, and Deities have appeared informs so visible that they have compelled every one who is notsenseless, or hardened in impiety, to confess the presence of the Gods. 

III. What do predictions and foreknowledge of future events indicate, but that such future events are shown, pointed out, portended, andforetold to men? From whence they are called omens, signs, portents, prodigies. But though we should esteem fabulous what is said ofMopsus, [107] Tiresias, [108] Amphiaraus, [109] Calchas, [110] andHelenus[111] (who would not have been delivered down to us as augurseven in fable if their art had been despised), may we not besufficiently apprised of the power of the Gods by domestic examples?Will not the temerity of P. Claudius, in the first Punic war, affectus? who, when the poultry were let out of the coop and would not feed, ordered them to be thrown into the water, and, joking even upon theGods, said, with a sneer, "Let them drink, since they will not eat;"which piece of ridicule, being followed by a victory over his fleet, cost him many tears, and brought great calamity on the Roman people. Did not his colleague Junius, in the same war, lose his fleet in atempest by disregarding the auspices? Claudius, therefore, wascondemned by the people, and Junius killed himself. Coelius says thatP. Flaminius, from his neglect of religion, fell at Thrasimenus; a losswhich the public severely felt. By these instances of calamity we maybe assured that Rome owes her grandeur and success to the conduct ofthose who were tenacious of their religious duties; and if we compareourselves to our neighbors, we shall find that we are infinitelydistinguished above foreign nations by our zeal for religiousceremonies, though in other things we may be only equal to them, and inother respects even inferior to them. 

Ought we to contemn Attius Navius's staff, with which he divided theregions of the vine to find his sow?[112] I should despise it, if Iwere not aware that King Hostilius had carried on most important warsin deference to his auguries; but by the negligence of our nobility thediscipline of the augury is now omitted, the truth of the auspicesdespised, and only a mere form observed; so that the most importantaffairs of the commonwealth, even the wars, on which the public safetydepends, are conducted without any auspices; the Peremnia[113] arediscussed; no part of the Acumina[114] performed; no select men arecalled to witness to the military testaments;[115] our generals nowbegin their wars as soon as they have arranged the Auspicia. The forceof religion was so great among our ancestors that some of theircommanders have, with their faces veiled, and with the solemn, formalexpressions of religion, sacrificed themselves to the immortal Gods tosave their country. [116] I could mention many of the Sibyllineprophecies, and many answers of the haruspices, to confirm thosethings, which ought not to be doubted. 

IV. For example: our augurs and the Etrurian haruspices saw the truthof their art established when P. Scipio and C. Figulus were consuls;for as Tiberius Gracchus, who was a second time consul, wished toproceed to a fresh election, the first Rogator, [117] as he wascollecting the suffrages, fell down dead on the spot. Gracchusnevertheless went on with the assembly, but perceiving that thisaccident had a religious influence on the people, he brought the affairbefore the senate. The senate thought fit to refer it to those whousually took cognizance of such things. The haruspices were called, anddeclared that the man who had acted as Rogator of the assembly had noright to do so; to which, as I have heard my father say, he repliedwith great warmth, Have I no right, who am consul, and augur, andfavored by the Auspicia? And shall you, who are Tuscans and Barbarians, pretend that you have authority over the Roman Auspicia, and a right togive judgment in matters respecting the formality of our assemblies?Therefore, he then commanded them to withdraw; but not long afterwardhe wrote from his province[118] to the college of augurs, acknowledgingthat in reading the books[119] he remembered that he had illegallychosen a place for his tent in the gardens of Scipio, and had afterwardentered the Pomoerium, in order to hold a senate, but that in repassingthe same Pomoerium he had forgotten to take the auspices; and that, therefore, the consuls had been created informally. The augurs laid thecase before the senate. The senate decreed that they should resigntheir charge, and so they accordingly abdicated. What greater exampleneed we seek for? The wisest, perhaps the most excellent of men, choseto confess his fault, which he might have concealed, rather than leavethe public the least atom of religious guilt; and the consuls chose toquit the highest office in the State, rather than fill it for a momentin defiance of religion. How great is the reputation of the augurs!

And is not the art of the soothsayers divine? And must not every onewho sees what innumerable instances of the same kind there are confessthe existence of the Gods? For they who have interpreters mustcertainly exist themselves; now, there are interpreters of the Gods;therefore we must allow there are Gods. But it may be said, perhaps, that all predictions are not accomplished. We may as well concludethere is no art of physic, because all sick persons do not recover. TheGods show us signs of future events; if we are occasionally deceived inthe results, it is not to be imputed to the nature of the Gods, but tothe conjectures of men. All nations agree that there are Gods; theopinion is innate, and, as it were, engraved in the minds of all men. The only point in dispute among us is, what they are. 

V. Their existence no one denies. Cleanthes, one of our sect, imputesthe way in which the idea of the Gods is implanted in the minds of mento four causes. The first is that which I just now mentioned--theforeknowledge of future things. The second is the great advantageswhich we enjoy from the temperature of the air, the fertility of theearth, and the abundance of various benefits of other kinds. The thirdcause is deduced from the terror with which the mind is affected bythunder, tempests, storms, snow, hail, devastation, pestilence, earthquakes often attended with hideous noises, showers of stones, andrain like drops of blood; by rocks and sudden openings of the earth; bymonstrous births of men and beasts; by meteors in the air, and blazingstars, by the Greeks called _cometæ_, by us _crinitæ_, the appearanceof which, in the late Octavian war, [120] were foreboders of greatcalamities; by two suns, which, as I have heard my father say, happenedin the consulate of Tuditanus and Aquillius, and in which year alsoanother sun (P. Africanus) was extinguished. These things terrifiedmankind, and raised in them a firm belief of the existence of somecelestial and divine power. 

His fourth cause, and that the strongest, is drawn from the regularityof the motion and revolution of the heavens, the distinctness, variety, beauty, and order of the sun, moon, and all the stars, the appearanceonly of which is sufficient to convince us they are not the effects ofchance; as when we enter into a house, or school, or court, and observethe exact order, discipline, and method of it, we cannot suppose thatit is so regulated without a cause, but must conclude that there issome one who commands, and to whom obedience is paid. It is quiteimpossible for us to avoid thinking that the wonderful motions, revolutions, and order of those many and great bodies, no part of whichis impaired by the countless and infinite succession of ages, must begoverned and directed by some supreme intelligent being. 

VI. Chrysippus, indeed, had a very penetrating genius; yet such is thedoctrine which he delivers, that he seems rather to have beeninstructed by nature than to owe it to any discovery of his own. "If, "says he, "there is anything in the universe which no human reason, ability, or power can make, the being who produced it must certainly bepreferable to man. Now, celestial bodies, and all those things whichproceed in any eternal order, cannot be made by man; the being who madethem is therefore preferable to man. What, then, is that being but aGod? If there be no such thing as a Deity, what is there better thanman, since he only is possessed of reason, the most excellent of allthings? But it is a foolish piece of vanity in man to think there isnothing preferable to him. There is, therefore, something preferable;consequently, there is certainly a God. "

When you behold a large and beautiful house, surely no one can persuadeyou it was built for mice and weasels, though you do not see themaster; and would it not, therefore, be most manifest folly to imaginethat a world so magnificently adorned, with such an immense variety ofcelestial bodies of such exquisite beauty, and that the vast sizes andmagnitude of the sea and land were intended as the abode of man, andnot as the mansion of the immortal Gods? Do we not also plainly seethis, that all the most elevated regions are the best, and that theearth is the lowest region, and is surrounded with the grossest air? sothat as we perceive that in some cities and countries the capacities ofmen are naturally duller, from the thickness of the climate, so mankindin general are affected by the heaviness of the air which surrounds theearth, the grossest region of the world. 

Yet even from this inferior intelligence of man we may discover theexistence of some intelligent agent that is divine, and wiser thanourselves; for, as Socrates says in Xenophon, from whence had man hisportion of understanding? And, indeed, if any one were to push hisinquiries about the moisture and heat which is diffused through thehuman body, and the earthy kind of solidity existing in our entrails, and that soul by which we breathe, and to ask whence we derived them, it would be plain that we have received one thing from the earth, another from liquid, another from fire, and another from that air whichwe inhale every time that we breathe. 

VII. But where did we find that which excels all these things--I meanreason, or (if you please, in other terms) the mind, understanding, thought, prudence; and from whence did we receive it? Shall the worldbe possessed of every other perfection, and be destitute of this one, which is the most important and valuable of all? But certainly there isnothing better, or more excellent, or more beautiful than the world;and not only there is nothing better, but we cannot even conceiveanything superior to it; and if reason and wisdom are the greatest ofall perfections, they must necessarily be a part of what we all allowto be the most excellent. 

Who is not compelled to admit the truth of what I assert by thatagreeable, uniform, and continued agreement of things in the universe?Could the earth at one season be adorned with flowers, at another becovered with snow? Or, if such a number of things regulated their ownchanges, could the approach and retreat of the sun in the summer andwinter solstices be so regularly known and calculated? Could the fluxand reflux of the sea and the height of the tides be affected by theincrease or wane of the moon? Could the different courses of the starsbe preserved by the uniform movement of the whole heaven? Could thesethings subsist, I say, in such a harmony of all the parts of theuniverse without the continued influence of a divine spirit?

If these points are handled in a free and copious manner, as I purposeto do, they will be less liable to the cavils of the Academics; but thenarrow, confined way in which Zeno reasoned upon them laid them moreopen to objection; for as running streams are seldom or never tainted, while standing waters easily grow corrupt, so a fluency of expressionwashes away the censures of the caviller, while the narrow limits of adiscourse which is too concise is almost defenceless; for the argumentswhich I am enlarging upon are thus briefly laid down by Zeno:

VIII. "That which reasons is superior to that which does not; nothingis superior to the world; the world, therefore, reasons. " By the samerule the world may be proved to be wise, happy, and eternal; for thepossession of all these qualities is superior to the want of them; andnothing is superior to the world; the inevitable consequence of whichargument is, that the world, therefore, is a Deity. He goes on: "Nopart of anything void of sense is capable of perception; some parts ofthe world have perception; the world, therefore, has sense. " Heproceeds, and pursues the argument closely. "Nothing, " says he, "thatis destitute itself of life and reason can generate a being possessedof life and reason; but the world does generate beings possessed oflife and reason; the world, therefore, is not itself destitute of lifeand reason. "

He concludes his argument in his usual manner with a simile: "Ifwell-tuned pipes should spring out of the olive, would you have theslightest doubt that there was in the olive-tree itself some kind ofskill and knowledge? Or if the plane-tree could produce harmoniouslutes, surely you would infer, on the same principle, that music wascontained in the plane-tree. Why, then, should we not believe the worldis a living and wise being, since it produces living and wise beingsout of itself?"

IX. But as I have been insensibly led into a length of discourse beyondmy first design (for I said that, as the existence of the Gods wasevident to all, there was no need of any long oration to prove it), Iwill demonstrate it by reasons deduced from the nature of things. Forit is a fact that all beings which take nourishment and increasecontain in themselves a power of natural heat, without which they couldneither be nourished nor increase. For everything which is of a warmand fiery character is agitated and stirred up by its own motion. Butthat which is nourished and grows is influenced by a certain regularand equable motion. And as long as this motion remains in us, so longdoes sense and life remain; but the moment that it abates and isextinguished, we ourselves decay and perish. 

By arguments like these, Cleanthes shows how great is the power of heatin all bodies. He observes that there is no food so gross as not to bedigested in a night and a day; and that even in the excrementitiousparts, which nature rejects, there remains a heat. The veins andarteries seem, by their continual quivering, to resemble the agitationof fire; and it has often been observed when the heart of an animal isjust plucked from the body that it palpitates with such visible motionas to resemble the rapidity of fire. Everything, therefore, that haslife, whether it be animal or vegetable, owes that life to the heatinherent in it; it is this nature of heat which contains in itself thevital power which extends throughout the whole world. This will appearmore clearly on a more close explanation of this fiery quality, whichpervades all things. 

Every division, then, of the world (and I shall touch upon the mostconsiderable) is sustained by heat; and first it may be observed inearthly substances that fire is produced from stones by striking orrubbing one against another; that "the warm earth smokes"[121] whenjust turned up, and that water is drawn warm from well-springs; andthis is most especially the case in the winter season, because there isa great quantity of heat contained in the caverns of the earth; andthis becomes more dense in the winter, and on that account confinesmore closely the innate heat which is discoverable in the earth. 

X. It would require a long dissertation, and many reasons would requireto be adduced, to show that all the seeds which the earth conceives, and all those which it contains having been generated from itself, andfixed in roots and trunks, derive all their origin and increase fromthe temperature and regulation of heat. And that even every liquor hasa mixture of heat in it is plainly demonstrated by the effusion ofwater; for it would not congeal by cold, nor become solid, as ice orsnow, and return again to its natural state, if it were not that, whenheat is applied to it, it again becomes liquefied and dissolved, and sodiffuses itself. Therefore, by northern and other cold winds it isfrozen and hardened, and in turn it dissolves and melts again by heat. The seas likewise, we find, when agitated by winds, grow warm, so thatfrom this fact we may understand that there is heat included in thatvast body of water; for we cannot imagine it to be external andadventitious heat, but such as is stirred up by agitation from the deeprecesses of the seas; and the same thing takes place with respect toour bodies, which grow warm with motion and exercise. 

And the very air itself, which indeed is the coldest element, is by nomeans void of heat; for there is a great quantity, arising from theexhalations of water, which appears to be a sort of steam occasioned byits internal heat, like that of boiling liquors. The fourth part of theuniverse is entirely fire, and is the source of the salutary and vitalheat which is found in the rest. From hence we may conclude that, asall parts of the world are sustained by heat, the world itself also hassuch a great length of time subsisted from the same cause; and so muchthe more, because we ought to understand that that hot and fieryprinciple is so diffused over universal nature that there is containedin it a power and cause of generation and procreation, from which allanimate beings, and all those creatures of the vegetable world, theroots of which are contained in the earth, must inevitably derive theirorigin and their increase. 

XI. It is nature, consequently, that continues and preserves the world, and that, too, a nature which is not destitute of sense and reason; forin every essence that is not simple, but composed of several parts, there must be some predominant quality--as, for instance, the mind inman, and in beasts something resembling it, from which arise all theappetites and desires for anything. As for trees, and all the vegetableproduce of the earth, it is thought to be in their roots. I call thatthe predominant quality, [122] which the Greeks call [Greek:hêgemonikon]; which must and ought to be the most excellent quality, wherever it is found. That, therefore, in which the prevailing qualityof all nature resides must be the most excellent of all things, andmost worthy of the power and pre-eminence over all things. 

Now, we see that there is nothing in being that is not a part of theuniverse; and as there are sense and reason in the parts of it, theremust therefore be these qualities, and these, too, in a more energeticand powerful degree, in that part in which the predominant quality ofthe world is found. The world, therefore, must necessarily be possessedof wisdom; and that element, which embraces all things, must excel inperfection of reason. The world, therefore, is a God, and the wholepower of the world is contained in that divine element. 

The heat also of the world is more pure, clear, and lively, and, consequently, better adapted to move the senses than the heat allottedto us; and it vivifies and preserves all things within the compass ofour knowledge. 

It is absurd, therefore, to say that the world, which is endued with aperfect, free, pure, spirituous, and active heat, is not sensitive, since by this heat men and beasts are preserved, and move, and think;more especially since this heat of the world is itself the soleprinciple of agitation, and has no external impulse, but is movedspontaneously; for what can be more powerful than the world, whichmoves and raises that heat by which it subsists?

XII. For let us listen to Plato, who is regarded as a God amongphilosophers. He says that there are two sorts of motion, one innateand the other external; and that that which is moved spontaneously ismore divine than that which is moved by another power. This self-motionhe places in the mind alone, and concludes that the first principle ofmotion is derived from the mind. Therefore, since all motion arisesfrom the heat of the world, and that heat is not moved by the effect ofany external impulse, but of its own accord, it must necessarily be amind; from whence it follows that the world is animated. 

On such reasoning is founded this opinion, that the world is possessedof understanding, because it certainly has more perfections in itselfthan any other nature; for as there is no part of our bodies soconsiderable as the whole of us, so it is clear that there is noparticular portion of the universe equal in magnitude to the whole ofit; from whence it follows that wisdom must be an attribute of theworld; otherwise man, who is a part of it, and possessed of reason, would be superior to the entire world. 

And thus, if we proceed from the first rude, unfinished natures to themost superior and perfect ones, we shall inevitably come at last to thenature of the Gods. For, in the first place, we observe that thosevegetables which are produced out of the earth are supported by nature, and she gives them no further supply than is sufficient to preservethem by nourishing them and making them grow. To beasts she has givensense and motion, and a faculty which directs them to what iswholesome, and prompts them to shun what is noxious to them. On man shehas conferred a greater portion of her favor; inasmuch as she has addedreason, by which he is enabled to command his passions, to moderatesome, and to subdue others. 

XIII. In the fourth and highest degree are those beings which arenaturally wise and good, who from the first moment of their existenceare possessed of right and consistent reason, which we must considersuperior to man and deserving to be attributed to a God; that is tosay, to the world, in which it is inevitable that that perfect andcomplete reason should be inherent. Nor is it possible that it shouldbe said with justice that there is any arrangement of things in whichthere cannot be something entire and perfect. For as in a vine or inbeasts we see that nature, if not prevented by some superior violence, proceeds by her own appropriate path to her destined end; and as inpainting, architecture, and the other arts there is a point ofperfection which is attainable, and occasionally attained, so it iseven much more necessary that in universal nature there must be somecomplete and perfect result arrived at. Many external accidents mayhappen to all other natures which may impede their progress toperfection, but nothing can hinder universal nature, because she isherself the ruler and governor of all other natures. That, therefore, must be the fourth and most elevated degree to which no other power canapproach. 

But this degree is that on which the nature of all things is placed;and since she is possessed of this, and she presides over all things, and is subject to no possible impediment, the world must necessarily bean intelligent and even a wise being. But how marvellously great is theignorance of those men who dispute the perfection of that nature whichencircles all things; or who, allowing it to be infinitely perfect, yetdeny it to be, in the first place, animated, then reasonable, and, lastly, prudent and wise! For how without these qualities could it beinfinitely perfect? If it were like vegetables, or even like beasts, there would be no more reason for thinking it extremely good thanextremely bad; and if it were possessed of reason, and had not wisdomfrom the beginning, the world would be in a worse condition than man;for man may grow wise, but the world, if it were destitute of wisdomthrough an infinite space of time past, could never acquire it. Thus itwould be worse than man. But as that is absurd to imagine, the worldmust be esteemed wise from all eternity, and consequently a Deity:since there is nothing existing that is not defective, except theuniverse, which is well provided, and fully complete and perfect in allits numbers and parts. 

XIV. For Chrysippus says, very acutely, that as the case is made forthe buckler, and the scabbard for the sword, so all things, except theuniverse, were made for the sake of something else. As, for instance, all those crops and fruits which the earth produces were made for thesake of animals, and animals for man; as, the horse for carrying, theox for the plough, the dog for hunting and for a guard. But man himselfwas born to contemplate and imitate the world, being in no wiseperfect, but, if I may so express myself, a particle of perfection; butthe world, as it comprehends all, and as nothing exists that is notcontained in it, is entirely perfect. In what, therefore, can it bedefective, since it is perfect? It cannot want understanding andreason, for they are the most desirable of all qualities. The sameChrysippus observes also, by the use of similitudes, that everything inits kind, when arrived at maturity and perfection, is superior to thatwhich is not--as, a horse to a colt, a dog to a puppy, and a man to aboy--so whatever is best in the whole universe must exist in somecomplete and perfect being. But nothing is more perfect than the world, and nothing better than virtue. Virtue, therefore, is an attribute ofthe world. But human nature is not perfect, and nevertheless virtue isproduced in it: with how much greater reason, then, do we conceive itto be inherent in the world! Therefore the world has virtue, and it isalso wise, and consequently a Deity. 

XV. The divinity of the world being now clearly perceived, we mustacknowledge the same divinity to be likewise in the stars, which areformed from the lightest and purest part of the ether, without amixture of any other matter; and, being altogether hot and transparent, we may justly say they have life, sense, and understanding. AndCleanthes thinks that it may be established by the evidence of two ofour senses--feeling and seeing--that they are entirely fiery bodies;for the heat and brightness of the sun far exceed any other fire, inasmuch as it enlightens the whole universe, covering such a vastextent of space, and its power is such that we perceive that it notonly warms, but often even burns: neither of which it could do if itwere not of a fiery quality. Since, then, says he, the sun is a fierybody, and is nourished by the vapors of the ocean (for no fire cancontinue without some sustenance), it must be either like that firewhich we use to warm us and dress our food, or like that which iscontained in the bodies of animals. 

And this fire, which the convenience of life requires, is the devourerand consumer of everything, and throws into confusion and destroyswhatever it reaches. On the contrary, the corporeal heat is full oflife, and salutary; and vivifies, preserves, cherishes, increases, andsustains all things, and is productive of sense; therefore, says he, there can be no doubt which of these fires the sun is like, since itcauses all things in their respective kinds to flourish and arrive tomaturity; and as the fire of the sun is like that which is contained inthe bodies of animated beings, the sun itself must likewise beanimated, and so must the other stars also, which arise out of thecelestial ardor that we call the sky, or firmament. 

As, then, some animals are generated in the earth, some in the water, and some in the air, Aristotle[123] thinks it ridiculous to imaginethat no animal is formed in that part of the universe which is the mostcapable to produce them. But the stars are situated in the etherealspace; and as this is an element the most subtle, whose motion iscontinual, and whose force does not decay, it follows, of necessity, that every animated being which is produced in it must be endowed withthe quickest sense and the swiftest motion. The stars, therefore, beingthere generated, it is a natural inference to suppose them endued withsuch a degree of sense and understanding as places them in the rank ofGods. 

XVI. For it may be observed that they who inhabit countries of a pure, clear air have a quicker apprehension and a readier genius than thosewho live in a thick, foggy climate. It is thought likewise that thenature of a man's diet has an effect on the mind; therefore it isprobable that the stars are possessed of an excellent understanding, inasmuch as they are situated in the ethereal part of the universe, andare nourished by the vapors of the earth and sea, which are purified bytheir long passage to the heavens. But the invariable order and regularmotion of the stars plainly manifest their sense and understanding; forall motion which seems to be conducted with reason and harmony supposesan intelligent principle, that does not act blindly, or inconsistently, or at random. And this regularity and consistent course of the starsfrom all eternity indicates not any natural order, for it is pregnantwith sound reason, not fortune (for fortune, being a friend to change, despises consistency). It follows, therefore, that they movespontaneously by their own sense and divinity. 

Aristotle also deserves high commendation for his observation thateverything that moves is either put in motion by natural impulse, or bysome external force, or of its own accord; and that the sun, and moon, and all the stars move; but that those things which are moved bynatural impulse are either borne downward by their weight, or upward bytheir lightness; neither of which things could be the case with thestars, because they move in a regular circle and orbit. Nor can it besaid that there is some superior force which causes the stars to bemoved in a manner contrary to nature. For what superior force can therebe? It follows, therefore, that their motion must be voluntary. Andwhoever is convinced of this must discover not only great ignorance, but great impiety likewise, if he denies the existence of the Gods; noris the difference great whether a man denies their existence, ordeprives them of all design and action; for whatever is wholly inactiveseems to me not to exist at all. Their existence, therefore, appears soplain that I can scarcely think that man in his senses who denies it. 

XVII. It now remains that we consider what is the character of theGods. Nothing is more difficult than to divert our thoughts andjudgment from the information of our corporeal sight, and the view ofobjects which our eyes are accustomed to; and it is this difficultywhich has had such an influence on the unlearned, and onphilosophers[124] also who resembled the unlearned multitude, that theyhave been unable to form any idea of the immortal Gods except under theclothing of the human figure; the weakness of which opinion Cotta hasso well confuted that I need not add my thoughts upon it. But as theprevious idea which we have of the Deity comprehends two things--firstof all, that he is an animated being; secondly, that there is nothingin all nature superior to him--I do not see what can be more consistentwith this idea and preconception than to attribute a mind and divinityto the world, [125] the most excellent of all beings. 

Epicurus may be as merry with this notion as he pleases; a man not thebest qualified for a joker, as not having the wit and sense of hiscountry. [126] Let him say that a voluble round Deity is to himincomprehensible; yet he shall never dissuade me from a principle whichhe himself approves, for he is of opinion there are Gods when he allowsthat there must be a nature excellently perfect. But it is certain thatthe world is most excellently perfect: nor is it to be doubted thatwhatever has life, sense, reason, and understanding must excel thatwhich is destitute of these things. It follows, then, that the worldhas life, sense, reason, and understanding, and is consequently aDeity. But this shall soon be made more manifest by the operation ofthese very things which the world causes. 

XVIII. In the mean while, Velleius, let me entreat you not to be alwayssaying that we are utterly destitute of every sort of learning. Thecone, you say, the cylinder, and the pyramid, are more beautiful to youthan the sphere. This is to have different eyes from other men. Butsuppose they are more beautiful to the sight only, which does notappear to me, for I can see nothing more beautiful than that figurewhich contains all others, and which has nothing rough in it, nothingoffensive, nothing cut into angles, nothing broken, nothing swelling, and nothing hollow; yet as there are two forms most esteemed, [127] theglobe in solids (for so the Greek word [Greek: sphaira], I think, should be construed), and the circle, or orb, in planes (in Greek, [Greek: kyklos]); and as they only have an exact similitude of parts inwhich every extreme is equally distant from the centre, what can weimagine in nature to be more just and proper? But if you have neverraked into this learned dust[128] to find out these things, surely, atall events, you natural philosophers must know that equality of motionand invariable order could not be preserved in any other figure. Nothing, therefore, can be more illiterate than to assert, as you arein the habit of doing, that it is doubtful whether the world is roundor not, because it may possibly be of another shape, and that there areinnumerable worlds of different forms; which Epicurus, if he ever hadlearned that two and two are equal to four, would not have said. Butwhile he judges of what is best by his palate, he does not look up tothe "palace of heaven, " as Ennius calls it. 

XIX. For as there are two sorts of stars, [129] one kind of whichmeasure their journey from east to west by immutable stages, never inthe least varying from their usual course, while the other completes adouble revolution with an equally constant regularity; from each ofthese facts we demonstrate the volubility of the world (which could notpossibly take place in any but a globular form) and the circular orbitsof the stars. And first of all the sun, which has the chief rank amongall the stars, is moved in such a manner that it fills the whole earthwith its light, and illuminates alternately one part of the earth, while it leaves the other in darkness. The shadow of the earthinterposing causes night; and the intervals of night are equal to thoseof day. And it is the regular approaches and retreats of the sun fromwhich arise the regulated degrees of cold and heat. His annual circuitis in three hundred and sixty-five days, and nearly six hoursmore. [130] At one time he bends his course to the north, at another tothe south, and thus produces summer and winter, with the other twoseasons, one of which succeeds the decline of winter, and the otherthat of summer. And so to these four changes of the seasons weattribute the origin and cause of all the productions both of sea andland. 

The moon completes the same course every month which the sun does in ayear. The nearer she approaches to the sun, the dimmer light does sheyield, and when most remote from it she shines with the fullestbrilliancy; nor are her figure and form only changed in her wane, buther situation likewise, which is sometimes in the north and sometimesin the south. By this course she has a sort of summer and wintersolstices; and by her influence she contributes to the nourishment andincrease of animated beings, and to the ripeness and maturity of allvegetables. 

XX. But most worthy our admiration is the motion of those five starswhich are falsely called wandering stars; for they cannot be said towander which keep from all eternity their approaches and retreats, andhave all the rest of their motions, in one regular constant andestablished order. What is yet more wonderful in these stars which weare speaking of is that sometimes they appear, and sometimes theydisappear; sometimes they advance towards the sun, and sometimes theyretreat; sometimes they precede him, and sometimes follow him;sometimes they move faster, sometimes slower, and sometimes they do notstir in the least, but for a while stand still. From these unequalmotions of the planets, mathematicians have called that the "greatyear"[131] in which the sun, moon, and five wandering stars, havingfinished their revolutions, are found in their original situation. Inhow long a time this is effected is much disputed, but it must be acertain and definite period. For the planet Saturn (called by theGreeks [Greek: Phainon]), which is farthest from the earth, finisheshis course in about thirty years; and in his course there is somethingvery singular, for sometimes he moves before the sun, sometimes hekeeps behind it; at one time lying hidden in the night, at anotheragain appearing in the morning; and ever performing the same motions inthe same space of time without any alteration, so as to be for infiniteages regular in these courses. Beneath this planet, and nearer theearth, is Jupiter, called [Greek: Phaethôn], which passes the sameorbit of the twelve signs[132] in twelve years, and goes throughexactly the same variety in its course that the star of Saturn does. Next to Jupiter is the planet Mars (in Greek, [Greek: Pyroeis]), whichfinishes its revolution through the same orbit as the two previouslymentioned, [133] in twenty-four months, wanting six days, as I imagine. Below this is Mercury (called by the Greeks [Greek: Stilbôn]), whichperforms the same course in little less than a year, and is neverfarther distant from the sun than the space of one sign, whether itprecedes or follows it. The lowest of the five planets, and nearest theearth, is that of Venus (called in Greek [Greek: Phôsphoros]). Beforethe rising of the sun, it is called the morning-star, and after thesetting, the evening-star. It has the same revolution through thezodiac, both as to latitude and longitude, with the other planets, in ayear, and never is more than two[134] signs from the sun, whether itprecedes or follows it. 

XXI. I cannot, therefore, conceive that this constant course of theplanets, this just agreement in such various motions through alleternity, can be preserved without a mind, reason, and consideration;and since we may perceive these qualities in the stars, we cannot butplace them in the rank of Gods. Those which are called the fixed starshave the same indications of reason and prudence. Their motion isdaily, regular, and constant. They do not move with the sky, nor havethey an adhesion to the firmament, as they who are ignorant of naturalphilosophy affirm. For the sky, which is thin, transparent, andsuffused with an equal heat, does not seem by its nature to have powerto whirl about the stars, or to be proper to contain them. The fixedstars, therefore, have their own sphere, separate and free from anyconjunction with the sky. Their perpetual courses, with that admirableand incredible regularity of theirs, so plainly declare a divine powerand mind to be in them, that he who cannot perceive that they are alsoendowed with divine power must be incapable of all perception whatever. 

In the heavens, therefore, there is nothing fortuitous, unadvised, inconstant, or variable: all there is order, truth, reason, andconstancy; and all the things which are destitute of these qualitiesare counterfeit, deceitful, and erroneous, and have their residenceabout the earth[135] beneath the moon, the lowest of all the planets. He, therefore, who believes that this admirable order and almostincredible regularity of the heavenly bodies, by which the preservationand entire safety of all things is secured, is destitute ofintelligence, must be considered to be himself wholly destitute of allintellect whatever. 

I think, then, I shall not deceive myself in maintaining this disputeupon the principle of Zeno, who went the farthest in his search aftertruth. 

XXII. Zeno, then, defines nature to be "an artificial fire, proceedingin a regular way to generation;" for he thinks that to create and begetare especial properties of art, and that whatever may be wrought by thehands of our artificers is much more skilfully performed by nature, that is, by this artificial fire, which is the master of all otherarts. 

According to this manner of reasoning, every particular nature isartificial, as it operates agreeably to a certain method peculiar toitself; but that universal nature which embraces all things is said byZeno to be not only artificial, but absolutely the artificer, everthinking and providing all things useful and proper; and as everyparticular nature owes its rise and increase to its own proper seed, souniversal nature has all her motions voluntary, has affections anddesires (by the Greeks called [Greek: hormas]) productive of actionsagreeable to them, like us, who have sense and understanding to directus. Such, then, is the intelligence of the universe; for which reasonit may be properly termed prudence or providence (in Greek, [Greek:pronoia]), since her chiefest care and employment is to provide allthings fit for its duration, that it may want nothing, and, above all, that it may be adorned with all perfection of beauty and ornament. 

XXIII. Thus far have I spoken concerning the universe, and also of thestars; from whence it is apparent that there is almost an infinitenumber of Gods, always in action, but without labor or fatigue; forthey are not composed of veins, nerves, and bones; their food and drinkare not such as cause humors too gross or too subtle; nor are theirbodies such as to be subject to the fear of falls or blows, or indanger of diseases from a weariness of limbs. Epicurus, to secure hisGods from such accidents, has made them only outlines of Deities, voidof action; but our Gods being of the most beautiful form, and situatedin the purest region of the heavens, dispose and rule their course insuch a manner that they seem to contribute to the support andpreservation of all things. 

Besides these, there are many other natures which have with reason beendeified by the wisest Grecians, and by our ancestors, in considerationof the benefits derived from them; for they were persuaded thatwhatever was of great utility to human kind must proceed from divinegoodness, and the name of the Deity was applied to that which the Deityproduced, as when we call corn Ceres, and wine Bacchus; whence thatsaying of Terence, [136]

 Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus starves. 

And any quality, also, in which there was any singular virtue wasnominated a Deity, such as Faith and Wisdom, which are placed among thedivinities in the Capitol; the last by Æmilius Scaurus, but Faith wasconsecrated before by Atilius Calatinus. You see the temple of Virtueand that of Honor repaired by M. Marcellus, erected formerly, in theLigurian war, by Q. Maximus. Need I mention those dedicated to Help, Safety, Concord, Liberty, and Victory, which have been called Deities, because their efficacy has been so great that it could not haveproceeded from any but from some divine power? In like manner are thenames of Cupid, Voluptas, and of Lubentine Venus consecrated, thoughthey were things vicious and not natural, whatever Velleius may thinkto the contrary, for they frequently stimulate nature in too violent amanner. Everything, then, from which any great utility proceeded wasdeified; and, indeed, the names I have just now mentioned aredeclaratory of the particular virtue of each Deity. 

XXIV. It has been a general custom likewise, that men who have doneimportant service to the public should be exalted to heaven by fame anduniversal consent. Thus Hercules, Castor and Pollux, Æsculapius, andLiber became Gods (I mean Liber[137] the son of Semele, and nothim[138] whom our ancestors consecrated in such state and solemnitywith Ceres and Libera; the difference in which may be seen in ourMysteries. [139] But because the offsprings of our bodies are called"Liberi" (children), therefore the offsprings of Ceres are called Liberand Libera (Libera[140] is the feminine, and Liber the masculine); thuslikewise Romulus, or Quirinus--for they are thought to be thesame--became a God. 

They are justly esteemed as Deities, since their souls subsist andenjoy eternity, from whence they are perfect and immortal beings. 

There is another reason, too, and that founded on natural philosophy, which has greatly contributed to the number of Deities; namely, thecustom of representing in human form a crowd of Gods who have suppliedthe poets with fables, and filled mankind with all sorts ofsuperstition. Zeno has treated of this subject, but it has beendiscussed more at length by Cleanthes and Chrysippus. All Greece was ofopinion that Coelum was castrated by his son Saturn, [141] and thatSaturn was chained by his son Jupiter. In these impious fables, aphysical and not inelegant meaning is contained; for they would denotethat the celestial, most exalted, and ethereal nature--that is, thefiery nature, which produces all things by itself--is destitute of thatpart of the body which is necessary for the act of generation byconjunction with another. 

XXV. By Saturn they mean that which comprehends the course andrevolution of times and seasons; the Greek name for which Deity impliesas much, for he is called [Greek: Kronos, ] which is the same with[Greek: Chronos], that is, a "space of time. " But he is called Saturn, because he is filled (_saturatur_) with years; and he is usuallyfeigned to have devoured his children, because time, ever insatiable, consumes the rolling years; but to restrain him from immoderate haste, Jupiter has confined him to the course of the stars, which are aschains to him. Jupiter (that is, _juvans pater_) signifies a "helpingfather, " whom, by changing the cases, we call Jove, [142] _a juvando_. The poets call him "father of Gods and men;"[143] and our ancestors"the most good, the most great;" and as there is something moreglorious in itself, and more agreeable to others, to be good (that is, beneficent) than to be great, the title of "most good" precedes that of"most great. " This, then, is he whom Ennius means in the followingpassage, before quoted--

 Look up to the refulgent heaven above, Which all men call, unanimously, Jove:

which is more plainly expressed than in this other passage[144] of thesame poet--

 On whose account I'll curse that flood of light, Whate'er it is above that shines so bright. 

Our augurs also mean the same, when, for the "thundering and lightningheaven, " they say the "thundering and lightning Jove. " Euripides, amongmany excellent things, has this:

 The vast, expanded, boundless sky behold, See it with soft embrace the earth enfold; This own the chief of Deities above, And this acknowledge by the name of Jove. 

XXVI. The air, according to the Stoics, which is between the sea andthe heaven, is consecrated by the name of Juno, and is called thesister and wife of Jove, because it resembles the sky, and is in closeconjunction with it. They have made it feminine, because there isnothing softer. But I believe it is called Juno, _a juvando_ (fromhelping). 

To make three separate kingdoms, by fable, there remained yet the waterand the earth. The dominion of the sea is given, therefore, to Neptune, a brother, as he is called, of Jove; whose name, Neptunus--as_Portunus, a portu_, from a port--is derived _a nando_ (from swimming), the first letters being a little changed. The sovereignty and powerover the earth is the portion of a God, to whom we, as well as theGreeks, have given a name that denotes riches (in Latin, _Dis_; inGreek, [Greek: Ploutôn]), because all things arise from the earth andreturn to it. He forced away Proserpine (in Greek called [Greek:Persephonê]), by which the poets mean the "seed of corn, " from whencecomes their fiction of Ceres, the mother of Proserpine, seeking for herdaughter, who was hidden from her. She is called Ceres, which is thesame as Geres--_a gerendis frugibus_[145]--"from bearing fruit, " thefirst letter of the word being altered after the manner of the Greeks, for by them she is called [Greek: Dêmêtêr], the same as [Greek:Gêmêtêr]. [146] Again, he (_qui magna vorteret_) "who brings aboutmighty changes" is called Mavors; and Minerva is so called because(_minueret_, or _minaretur_) she diminishes or menaces. 

XXVII. And as the beginnings and endings of all things are of thegreatest importance, therefore they would have their sacrifices tobegin with Janus. [147] His name is derived _ab eundo_, from passing;from whence thorough passages are called _jani_, and the outward doorsof common houses are called _januæ_. The name of Vesta is, from theGreeks, the same with their [Greek: Hestia]. Her province is overaltars and hearths; and in the name of this Goddess, who is the keeperof all things within, prayers and sacrifices are concluded. The _DiiPenates_, "household Gods, " have some affinity with this power, and areso called either from _penus_, "all kind of human provisions, " orbecause _penitus insident_ (they reside within), from which, by thepoets, they are called _penetrales_ also. Apollo, a Greek name, iscalled _Sol_, the sun; and Diana, _Luna_, the moon. The sun (_sol_) isso named either because he is _solus_ (alone), so eminent above all thestars; or because he obscures all the stars, and appears alone as soonas he rises. _Luna_, the moon, is so called _a lucendo_ (from shining);she bears the name also of Lucina: and as in Greece the women in laborinvoke Diana Lucifera, so here they invoke Juno Lucina. She is likewisecalled Diana _omnivaga_, not _a venando_ (from hunting), but becauseshe is reckoned one of the seven stars that seem to wander. [148] She iscalled Diana because she makes a kind of day of the night;[149] andpresides over births, because the delivery is effected sometimes inseven, or at most in nine, courses of the moon; which, because theymake _mensa spatia_ (measured spaces), are called _menses_ (months). This occasioned a pleasant observation of Timæus (as he has many). Having said in his history that "the same night in which Alexander wasborn, the temple of Diana at Ephesus was burned down, " he adds, "It isnot in the least to be wondered at, because Diana, being willing toassist at the labor of Olympias, [150] was absent from home. " But tothis Goddess, because _ad res omnes veniret_--"she has an influenceupon all things"--we have given the appellation of Venus, [151] fromwhom the word _venustas_ (beauty) is rather derived than Venus from_venustas_. 

XXVIII. Do you not see, therefore, how, from the productions of natureand the useful inventions of men, have arisen fictitious and imaginaryDeities, which have been the foundation of false opinions, perniciouserrors, and wretched superstitions? For we know how the different formsof the Gods--their ages, apparel, ornaments; their pedigrees, marriages, relations, and everything belonging to them--are adapted tohuman weakness and represented with our passions; with lust, sorrow, and anger, according to fabulous history: they have had wars andcombats, not only, as Homer relates, when they have interestedthemselves in two different armies, but when they have fought battlesin their own defence against the Titans and giants. These stories, ofthe greatest weakness and levity, are related and believed with themost implicit folly. 

But, rejecting these fables with contempt, a Deity is diffused in everypart of nature; in earth under the name of Ceres, in the sea under thename of Neptune, in other parts under other names. Yet whatever theyare, and whatever characters and dispositions they have, and whatevername custom has given them, we are bound to worship and adore them. Thebest, the chastest, the most sacred and pious worship of the Gods is toreverence them always with a pure, perfect, and unpolluted mind andvoice; for our ancestors, as well as the philosophers, have separatedsuperstition from religion. They who prayed whole days and sacrificed, that their children might survive them (_ut superstites essent_), werecalled superstitious, which word became afterward more general; butthey who diligently perused, and, as we may say, read or practised overagain, all the duties relating to the worship of the Gods, were called_religiosi_--religious, from _relegendo_--"reading over again, orpractising;" as _elegantes_, elegant, _ex eligendo_, "from choosing, making a good choice;" _diligentes_, diligent, _ex diligendo_, "fromattending on what we love;" _intelligentes_, intelligent, fromunderstanding--for the signification is derived in the same manner. Thus are the words superstitious and religious understood; the onebeing a term of reproach, the other of commendation. I think I have nowsufficiently demonstrated that there are Gods, and what they are. 

XXIX. I am now to show that the world is governed by the providence ofthe Gods. This is an important point, which you Academics endeavor toconfound; and, indeed, the whole contest is with you, Cotta; for yoursect, Velleius, know very little of what is said on different subjectsby other schools. You read and have a taste only for your own books, and condemn all others without examination. For instance, when youmentioned yesterday[152] that prophetic old dame [Greek: Pronoia], Providence, invented by the Stoics, you were led into that error byimagining that Providence was made by them to be a particular Deitythat governs the whole universe, whereas it is only spoken in a shortmanner; as when it is said "The commonwealth of Athens is governed bythe council, " it is meant "of the Areopagus;"[153] so when we say "Theworld is governed by providence, " we mean "by the providence of theGods. " To express ourselves, therefore, more fully and clearly, we say, "The world is governed by the providence of the Gods. " Be not, therefore, lavish of your railleries, of which your sect has little tospare: if I may advise you, do not attempt it. It does not become you, it is not your talent, nor is it in your power. This is not applied toyou in particular who have the education and politeness of a Roman, butto all your sect in general, and especially to your leader[154]--a manunpolished, illiterate, insulting, without wit, without reputation, without elegance. 

XXX. I assert, then, that the universe, with all its parts, wasoriginally constituted, and has, without any cessation, been evergoverned by the providence of the Gods. This argument we Stoicscommonly divide into three parts; the first of which is, that theexistence of the Gods being once known, it must follow that the worldis governed by their wisdom; the second, that as everything is underthe direction of an intelligent nature, which has produced thatbeautiful order in the world, it is evident that it is formed fromanimating principles; the third is deduced from those glorious workswhich we behold in the heavens and the earth. 

First, then, we must either deny the existence of the Gods (asDemocritus and Epicurus by their doctrine of images in some sort do), or, if we acknowledge that there are Gods, we must believe they areemployed, and that, too, in something excellent. Now, nothing is soexcellent as the administration of the universe. The universe, therefore, is governed by the wisdom of the Gods. Otherwise, we mustimagine that there is some cause superior to the Deity, whether it be anature inanimate, or a necessity agitated by a mighty force, thatproduces those beautiful works which we behold. The nature of the Godswould then be neither supreme nor excellent, if you subject it to thatnecessity or to that nature, by which you would make the heaven, theearth, and the seas to be governed. But there is nothing superior tothe Deity; the world, therefore, must be governed by him: consequently, the Deity is under no obedience or subjection to nature, but doeshimself rule over all nature. In effect, if we allow the Gods haveunderstanding, we allow also their providence, which regards the mostimportant things; for, can they be ignorant of those important things, and how they are to be conducted and preserved, or do they want powerto sustain and direct them? Ignorance is inconsistent with the natureof the Gods, and imbecility is repugnant to their majesty. From whenceit follows, as we assert, that the world is governed by the providenceof the Gods. 

XXXI. But supposing, which is incontestable, that there are Gods, theymust be animated, and not only animated, but endowed withreason--united, as we may say, in a civil agreement and society, andgoverning together one universe, as a republic or city. Thus the samereason, the same verity, the same law, which ordains good and prohibitsevil, exists in the Gods as it does in men. From them, consequently, wehave prudence and understanding, for which reason our ancestors erectedtemples to the Mind, Faith, Virtue, and Concord. Shall we not thenallow the Gods to have these perfections, since we worship the sacredand august images of them? But if understanding, faith, virtue, andconcord reside in human kind, how could they come on earth, unless fromheaven? And if we are possessed of wisdom, reason, and prudence, theGods must have the same qualities in a greater degree; and not onlyhave them, but employ them in the best and greatest works. The universeis the best and greatest work; therefore it must be governed by thewisdom and providence of the Gods. 

Lastly, as we have sufficiently shown that those glorious and luminousbodies which we behold are Deities--I mean the sun, the moon, the fixedand wandering stars, the firmament, and the world itself, and thoseother things also which have any singular virtue, and are of any greatutility to human kind--it follows that all things are governed byprovidence and a divine mind. But enough has been said on the firstpart. 

XXXII. It is now incumbent on me to prove that all things are subjectedto nature, and most beautifully directed by her. But, first of all, itis proper to explain precisely what that nature is, in order to come tothe more easy understanding of what I would demonstrate. Some thinkthat nature is a certain irrational power exciting in bodies thenecessary motions. Others, that it is an intelligent power, acting byorder and method, designing some end in every cause, and always aimingat that end, whose works express such skill as no art, no hand, canimitate; for, they say, such is the virtue of its seed, that, howeversmall it is, if it falls into a place proper for its reception, andmeets with matter conducive to its nourishment and increase, it formsand produces everything in its respective kind; either vegetables, which receive their nourishment from their roots; or animals, endowedwith motion, sense, appetite, and abilities to beget their likeness. 

Some apply the word nature to everything; as Epicurus does, whoacknowledges no cause, but atoms, a vacuum, and their accidents. Butwhen we[155] say that nature forms and governs the world, we do notapply it to a clod of earth, or piece of stone, or anything of thatsort, whose parts have not the necessary cohesion, [156] but to a tree, in which there is not the appearance of chance, but of order and aresemblance of art. 

XXXIII. But if the art of nature gives life and increase to vegetables, without doubt it supports the earth itself; for, being impregnated withseeds, she produces every kind of vegetable, and embracing their roots, she nourishes and increases them; while, in her turn, she receives hernourishment from the other elements, and by her exhalations givesproper sustenance to the air, the sky, and all the superior bodies. Ifnature gives vigor and support to the earth, by the same reason she hasan influence over the rest of the world; for as the earth givesnourishment to vegetables, so the air is the preservation of animals. The air sees with us, hears with us, and utters sounds with us; withoutit, there would be no seeing, hearing, or sounding. It even moves withus; for wherever we go, whatever motion we make, it seems to retire andgive place to us. 

That which inclines to the centre, that which rises from it to thesurface, and that which rolls about the centre, constitute theuniversal world, and make one entire nature; and as there are foursorts of bodies, the continuance of nature is caused by theirreciprocal changes; for the water arises from the earth, the air fromthe water, and the fire from the air; and, reversing this order, theair arises from fire, the water from the air, and from the water theearth, the lowest of the four elements, of which all beings are formed. Thus by their continual motions backward and forward, upward anddownward, the conjunction of the several parts of the universe ispreserved; a union which, in the beauty we now behold it, must beeternal, or at least of a very long duration, and almost for aninfinite space of time; and, whichever it is, the universe must ofconsequence be governed by nature. For what art of navigating fleets, or of marshalling an army, and--to instance the produce of nature--whatvine, what tree, what animated form and conformation of their members, give us so great an indication of skill as appears in the universe?Therefore we must either deny that there is the least trace of anintelligent nature, or acknowledge that the world is governed by it. But since the universe contains all particular beings, as well as theirseeds, can we say that it is not itself governed by nature? That wouldbe the same as saying that the teeth and the beard of man are the workof nature, but that the man himself is not. Thus the effect would beunderstood to be greater than the cause. 

XXXIV. Now, the universe sows, as I may say, plants, produces, raises, nourishes, and preserves what nature administers, as members and partsof itself. If nature, therefore, governs them, she must also govern theuniverse. And, lastly, in nature's administration there is nothingfaulty. She produced the best possible effect out of those elementswhich existed. Let any one show how it could have been better. But thatcan never be; and whoever attempts to mend it will either make itworse, or aim at impossibilities. 

But if all the parts of the universe are so constituted that nothingcould be better for use or beauty, let us consider whether this is theeffect of chance, or whether, in such a state they could possiblycohere, but by the direction of wisdom and divine providence. Nature, therefore, cannot be void of reason, if art can bring nothing toperfection without it, and if the works of nature exceed those of art. How is it consistent with common-sense that when you view an image or apicture, you imagine it is wrought by art; when you behold afar off aship under sail, you judge it is steered by reason and art; when yousee a dial or water-clock, [157] you believe the hours are shown by art, and not by chance; and yet that you should imagine that the universe, which contains all arts and the artificers, can be void of reason andunderstanding?

But if that sphere which was lately made by our friend Posidonius, theregular revolutions of which show the course of the sun, moon, and fivewandering stars, as it is every day and night performed, were carriedinto Scythia or Britain, who, in those barbarous countries, would doubtthat that sphere had been made so perfect by the exertion of reason?

XXXV. Yet these people[158] doubt whether the universe, from whence allthings arise and are made, is not the effect of chance, or somenecessity, rather than the work of reason and a divine mind. Accordingto them, Archimedes shows more knowledge in representing the motions ofthe celestial globe than nature does in causing them, though the copyis so infinitely beneath the original. The shepherd in Attius, [159] whohad never seen a ship, when he perceived from a mountain afar off thedivine vessel of the Argonauts, surprised and frighted at this newobject, expressed himself in this manner:

 What horrid bulk is that before my eyes, Which o'er the deep with noise and vigor flies? It turns the whirlpools up, its force so strong, And drives the billows as it rolls along. The ocean's violence it fiercely braves; Runs furious on, and throws about the waves. Swiftly impetuous in its course, and loud, Like the dire bursting of a show'ry cloud; Or, like a rock, forced by the winds and rain, Now whirl'd aloft, then plunged into the main. But hold! perhaps the Earth and Neptune jar, And fiercely wage an elemental war; Or Triton with his trident has o'erthrown His den, and loosen'd from the roots the stone; The rocky fragment, from the bottom torn, Is lifted up, and on the surface borne. 

At first he is in suspense at the sight of this unknown object; but onseeing the young mariners, and hearing their singing, he says, Like sportive dolphins, with their snouts they roar;[160]

and afterward goes on, Loud in my ears methinks their voices ring, As if I heard the God Sylvanus sing. 

As at first view the shepherd thinks he sees something inanimate andinsensible, but afterward, judging by more trustworthy indications, hebegins to figure to himself what it is; so philosophers, if they aresurprised at first at the sight of the universe, ought, when they haveconsidered the regular, uniform, and immutable motions of it, toconceive that there is some Being that is not only an inhabitant ofthis celestial and divine mansion, but a ruler and a governor, asarchitect of this mighty fabric. 

XXXVI. Now, in my opinion, they[161] do not seem to have even the leastsuspicion that the heavens and earth afford anything marvellous. For, in the first place, the earth is situated in the middle part of theuniverse, and is surrounded on all sides by the air, which we breathe, and which is called "aer, "[162] which, indeed, is a Greek word; but byconstant use it is well understood by our countrymen, for, indeed, itis employed as a Latin word. The air is encompassed by the boundlessether (sky), which consists of the fires above. This word we borrowalso, for we use _æther_ in Latin as well as _aer;_ though Pacuviusthus expresses it, --This, of which I speak, In Latin's _coelum_, _æther_ call'd in Greek. 

As though he were not a Greek into whose mouth he puts this sentence;but he is speaking in Latin, though we listen as if he were speakingGreek; for, as he says elsewhere, His speech discovers him a Grecian born. 

But to return to more important matters. In the sky innumerable fierystars exist, of which the sun is the chief, enlightening all with hisrefulgent splendor, and being by many degrees larger than the wholeearth; and this multitude of vast fires are so far from hurting theearth, and things terrestrial, that they are of benefit to them;whereas, if they were moved from their stations, we should inevitablybe burned through the want of a proper moderation and temperature ofheat. 

XXXVII. Is it possible for any man to behold these things, and yetimagine that certain solid and individual bodies move by their naturalforce and gravitation, and that a world so beautifully adorned was madeby their fortuitous concourse? He who believes this may as well believethat if a great quantity of the one-and-twenty letters, composed eitherof gold or any other matter, were thrown upon the ground, they wouldfall into such order as legibly to form the Annals of Ennius. I doubtwhether fortune could make a single verse of them. How, therefore, canthese people assert that the world was made by the fortuitous concourseof atoms, which have no color, no quality--which the Greeks call[Greek: poiotês], no sense? or that there are innumerable worlds, somerising and some perishing, in every moment of time? But if a concourseof atoms can make a world, why not a porch, a temple, a house, a city, which are works of less labor and difficulty?

Certainly those men talk so idly and inconsiderately concerning thislower world that they appear to me never to have contemplated thewonderful magnificence of the heavens; which is the next topic for ourconsideration. 

Well, then, did Aristotle[163] observe: "If there were men whosehabitations had been always underground, in great and commodioushouses, adorned with statues and pictures, furnished with everythingwhich they who are reputed happy abound with; and if, without stirringfrom thence, they should be informed of a certain divine power andmajesty, and, after some time, the earth should open, and they shouldquit their dark abode to come to us, where they should immediatelybehold the earth, the seas, the heavens; should consider the vastextent of the clouds and force of the winds; should see the sun, andobserve his grandeur and beauty, and also his generative power, inasmuch as day is occasioned by the diffusion of his light through thesky; and when night has obscured the earth, they should contemplate theheavens bespangled and adorned with stars, the surprising variety ofthe moon in her increase and wane, the rising and setting of all thestars, and the inviolable regularity of their courses; when, " says he, "they should see these things, they would undoubtedly conclude thatthere are Gods, and that these are their mighty works. "

XXXVIII. Thus far Aristotle. Let us imagine, also, as great darkness aswas formerly occasioned by the irruption of the fires of Mount Ætna, which are said to have obscured the adjacent countries for two days tosuch a degree that no man could recognize his fellow; but on the third, when the sun appeared, they seemed to be risen from the dead. Now, ifwe should be suddenly brought from a state of eternal darkness to seethe light, how beautiful would the heavens seem! But our minds havebecome used to it from the daily practice and habituation of our eyes, nor do we take the trouble to search into the principles of what isalways in view; as if the novelty, rather than the importance, ofthings ought to excite us to investigate their causes. 

Is he worthy to be called a man who attributes to chance, not to anintelligent cause, the constant motion of the heavens, the regularcourses of the stars, the agreeable proportion and connection of allthings, conducted with so much reason that our intellect itself isunable to estimate it rightly? When we see machines move artificially, as a sphere, a clock, or the like, do we doubt whether they are theproductions of reason? And when we behold the heavens moving with aprodigious celerity, and causing an annual succession of the differentseasons of the year, which vivify and preserve all things, can we doubtthat this world is directed, I will not say only by reason, but byreason most excellent and divine? For without troubling ourselves withtoo refined a subtlety of discussion, we may use our eyes tocontemplate the beauty of those things which we assert have beenarranged by divine providence. 

XXXIX. First, let us examine the earth, whose situation is in themiddle of the universe, [164] solid, round, and conglobular by itsnatural tendency; clothed with flowers, herbs, trees, and fruits; thewhole in multitudes incredible, and with a variety suitable to everytaste: let us consider the ever-cool and running springs, the clearwaters of the rivers, the verdure of their banks, the hollow depths ofcaves, the cragginess of rocks, the heights of impending mountains, andthe boundless extent of plains, the hidden veins of gold and silver, and the infinite quarries of marble. 

What and how various are the kinds of animals, tame or wild? Theflights and notes of birds? How do the beasts live in the fields and inthe forests? What shall I say of men, who, being appointed, as we maysay, to cultivate the earth, do not suffer its fertility to be chokedwith weeds, nor the ferocity of beasts to make it desolate; who, by thehouses and cities which they build, adorn the fields, the isles, andthe shores? If we could view these objects with the naked eye, as wecan by the contemplation of the mind, nobody, at such a sight, woulddoubt there was a divine intelligence. 

But how beautiful is the sea! How pleasant to see the extent of it!What a multitude and variety of islands! How delightful are the coasts!What numbers and what diversity of inhabitants does it contain; somewithin the bosom of it, some floating on the surface, and others bytheir shells cleaving to the rocks! While the sea itself, approachingto the land, sports so closely to its shores that those two elementsappear to be but one. 

Next above the sea is the air, diversified by day and night: whenrarefied, it possesses the higher region; when condensed, it turns intoclouds, and with the waters which it gathers enriches the earth by therain. Its agitation produces the winds. It causes heat and coldaccording to the different seasons. It sustains birds in their flight;and, being inhaled, nourishes and preserves all animated beings. 

XL. Add to these, which alone remaineth to be mentioned, the firmamentof heaven, a region the farthest from our abodes, which surrounds andcontains all things. It is likewise called ether, or sky, the extremebounds and limits of the universe, in which the stars perform theirappointed courses in a most wonderful manner; among which, the sun, whose magnitude far surpasses the earth, makes his revolution round it, and by his rising and setting causes day and night; sometimes comingnear towards the earth, and sometimes going from it, he every yearmakes two contrary reversions[165] from the extreme point of itscourse. In his retreat the earth seems locked up in sadness; in hisreturn it appears exhilarated with the heavens. The moon, which, asmathematicians demonstrate, is bigger than half the earth, makes herrevolutions through the same spaces[166] as the sun; but at one timeapproaching, and at another receding from, the sun, she diffuses thelight which she has borrowed from him over the whole earth, and hasherself also many various changes in her appearance. When she is foundunder the sun, and opposite to it, the brightness of her rays is lost;but when the earth directly interposes between the moon and sun, themoon is totally eclipsed. The other wandering stars have their coursesround the earth in the same spaces, [167] and rise and set in the samemanner; their motions are sometimes quick, sometimes slow, and oftenthey stand still. There is nothing more wonderful, nothing morebeautiful. There is a vast number of fixed stars, distinguished by thenames of certain figures, to which we find they have some resemblance. 

XLI. I will here, says Balbus, looking at me, make use of the verseswhich, when you were young, you translated from Aratus, [168] and which, because they are in Latin, gave me so much delight that I have many ofthem still in my memory. As then, we daily see, without any change orvariation, --the rest[169] Swiftly pursue the course to which they're bound; And with the heavens the days and nights go round;

the contemplation of which, to a mind desirous of observing theconstancy of nature, is inexhaustible. 

 The extreme top of either point is call'd The pole. [170]

About this the two [Greek: Arktoi] are turned, which never set;

 Of these, the Greeks one Cynosura call, The other Helice. [171]

The brightest stars, [172] indeed, of Helice are discernible all night, Which are by us Septentriones call'd. 

Cynosura moves about the same pole, with a like number of stars, andranged in the same order:

 This[173] the Phoenicians choose to make their guide When on the ocean in the night they ride. Adorned with stars of more refulgent light, The other[174] shines, and first appears at night. Though this is small, sailors its use have found; More inward is its course, and short its round. 

XLII. The aspect of those stars is the more admirable, because, The Dragon grim between them bends his way, As through the winding banks the currents stray, And up and down in sinuous bending rolls. [175]

His whole form is excellent; but the shape of his head and the ardor ofhis eyes are most remarkable. 

 Various the stars which deck his glittering head; His temples are with double glory spread; From his fierce eyes two fervid lights afar Flash, and his chin shines with one radiant star; Bow'd is his head; and his round neck he bends, And to the tail of Helice[176] extends. 

The rest of the Dragon's body we see[177] at every hour in the night. 

 Here[178] suddenly the head a little hides Itself, where all its parts, which are in sight, And those unseen in the same place unite. 

Near to this head

 Is placed the figure of a man that moves Weary and sad, which the Greeks

 Engonasis do call, because he's borne[179] About with bended knee. Near him is placed The crown with a refulgent lustre graced. 

This indeed is at his back; but Anguitenens (the Snake-holder) is nearhis head:[180]

 The Greeks him Ophiuchus call, renown'd The name. He strongly grasps the serpent round With both his hands; himself the serpent folds Beneath his breast, and round his middle holds; Yet gravely he, bright shining in the skies, Moves on, and treads on Nepa's[181] breast and eyes. 

The Septentriones[182] are followed by--

 Arctophylax, [183] that's said to be the same Which we Boötes call, who has the name, Because he drives the Greater Bear along Yoked to a wain. 

Besides, in Boötes, A star of glittering rays about his waist, Arcturus called, a name renown'd, is placed. [184]

Beneath which is

 The Virgin of illustrious form, whose hand Holds a bright spike. 

XLIII. And truly these signs are so regularly disposed that a divinewisdom evidently appears in them:

 Beneath the Bear's[185] head have the Twins their seat, Under his chest the Crab, beneath his feet The mighty Lion darts a trembling flame. [186]

The Charioteer

 On the left side of Gemini we see, [187] And at his head behold fierce Helice; On his left shoulder the bright Goat appears. 

But to proceed--

 This is indeed a great and glorious star, On th' other side the Kids, inferior far, Yield but a slender light to mortal eyes. 

Under his feet

 The horned bull, [188] with sturdy limbs, is placed:

his head is spangled with a number of stars;

 These by the Greeks are called the Hyades, from raining; for [Greek: hyein] is to rain: therefore they areinjudiciously called _Suculæ_ by our people, as if they had their namefrom [Greek: hys], a sow, and not from [Greek: hyô]. 

Behind the Lesser Bear, Cepheus[189] follows with extended hands, For close behind the Lesser Bear he comes. 

Before him goes

 Cassiopea[190] with a faintish light; But near her moves (fair and illustrious sight!) Andromeda, [191] who, with an eager pace, Seems to avoid her parent's mournful face. [192] With glittering mane the Horse[193] now seems to tread, So near he comes, on her refulgent head; With a fair star, that close to him appears, A double form[194] and but one light he wears; By which he seems ambitious in the sky An everlasting knot of stars to tie. Near him the Ram, with wreathed horns, is placed;

by whom

 The Fishes[195] are; of which one seems to haste Somewhat before the other, to the blast Of the north wind exposed. 

XLIV. Perseus is described as placed at the feet of Andromeda:

 And him the sharp blasts of the north wind beat. Near his left knee, but dim their light, their seat The small Pleiades[196] maintain. We find, Not far from them, the Lyre[197] but slightly join'd. Next is the winged Bird, [198] that seems to fly Beneath the spacious covering of the sky. 

Near the head of the Horse[199] lies the right hand of Aquarius, thenall Aquarius himself. [200]

 Then Capricorn, with half the form of beast, Breathes chill and piercing colds from his strong breast, And in a spacious circle takes his round; When him, while in the winter solstice bound, The sun has visited with constant light, He turns his course, and shorter makes the night. [201]

Not far from hence is seen

 The Scorpion[202] rising lofty from below; By him the Archer, [203] with his bended bow; Near him the Bird, with gaudy feathers spread; And the fierce Eagle[204] hovers o'er his head. 

Next comes the Dolphin;[205]

 Then bright Orion, [206] who obliquely moves;

he is followed by

 The fervent Dog, [207] bright with refulgent stars:

next the Hare follows[208]

 Unwearied in his course. At the Dog's tail Argo[209] moves on, and moving seems to sail; O'er her the Ram and Fishes have their place;[210] The illustrious vessel touches, in her pace, The river's banks;[211]

which you may see winding and extending itself to a great length. 

 The Fetters[212] at the Fishes' tails are hung. By Nepa's[213] head behold the Altar stand, [214] Which by the breath of southern winds is fann'd;

near which the Centaur[215]

 Hastens his mingled parts to join beneath The Serpent, [216] there extending his right hand, To where you see the monstrous Scorpion stand, Which he at the bright Altar fiercely slays. Here on her lower parts see Hydra[217] raise Herself;

whose bulk is very far extended. 

 Amid the winding of her body's placed The shining Goblet;[218] and the glossy Crow[219] Plunges his beak into her parts below. Antecanis beneath the Twins is seen, Call'd Procyon by the Greeks. [220]

Can any one in his senses imagine that this disposition of the stars, and this heaven so beautifully adorned, could ever have been formed bya fortuitous concourse of atoms? Or what other nature, being destituteof intellect and reason, could possibly have produced these effects, which not only required reason to bring them about, but the verycharacter of which could not be understood and appreciated without themost strenuous exertions of well-directed reason?

XLV. But our admiration is not limited to the objects here described. What is most wonderful is that the world is so durable, and soperfectly made for lasting that it is not to be impaired by time; forall its parts tend equally to the centre, and are bound together by asort of chain, which surrounds the elements. This chain is nature, which being diffused through the universe, and performing all thingswith judgment and reason, attracts the extremities to the centre. 

If, then, the world is round, and if on that account all its parts, being of equal dimensions and relative proportions, mutually supportand are supported by one another, it must follow that as all the partsincline to the centre (for that is the lowest place of a globe) thereis nothing whatever which can put a stop to that propensity in the caseof such great weights. For the same reason, though the sea is higherthan the earth, yet because it has the like tendency, it is collectedeverywhere, equally concentres, and never overflows, and is neverwasted. 

The air, which is contiguous, ascends by its lightness, but diffusesitself through the whole; therefore it is by nature joined and unitedto the sea, and at the same time borne by the same power towards theheaven, by the thinness and heat of which it is so tempered as to bemade proper to supply life and wholesome air for the support ofanimated beings. This is encompassed by the highest region of theheavens, which is called the sky, which is joined to the extremity ofthe air, but retains its own heat pure and unmixed. 

XLVI. The stars have their revolutions in the sky, and are continued bythe tendency of all parts towards the centre. Their duration isperpetuated by their form and figure, for they are round; which form, as I think has been before observed, is the least liable to injury; andas they are composed of fire, they are fed by the vapors which areexhaled by the sun from the earth, the sea, and other waters; but whenthese vapors have nourished and refreshed the stars, and the whole sky, they are sent back to be exhaled again; so that very little is lost orconsumed by the fire of the stars and the flame of the sky. Hence weStoics conclude--which Panætius[221] is said to have doubted of--thatthe whole world at last would be consumed by a general conflagration, when, all moisture being exhausted, neither the earth could have anynourishment, nor the air return again, since water, of which it isformed, would then be all consumed; so that only fire would subsist;and from this fire, which is an animating power and a Deity, a newworld would arise and be re-established in the same beauty. 

I should be sorry to appear to you to dwell too long upon this subjectof the stars, and more especially upon that of the planets, whosemotions, though different, make a very just agreement. Saturn, thehighest, chills; Mars, placed in the middle, burns; while Jupiter, interposing, moderates their excess, both of light and heat. The twoplanets beneath Mars[222] obey the sun. The sun himself fills the wholeuniverse with his own genial light; and the moon, illuminated by him, influences conception, birth, and maturity. And who is there who is notmoved by this union of things, and by this concurrence of natureagreeing together, as it were, for the safety of the world? And yet Ifeel sure that none of these reflections have ever been made by thesemen. 

XLVII. Let us proceed from celestial to terrestrial things. What isthere in them which does not prove the principle of an intelligentnature? First, as to vegetables; they have roots to sustain theirstems, and to draw from the earth a nourishing moisture to support thevital principle which those roots contain. They are clothed with a rindor bark, to secure them more thoroughly from heat and cold. The vineswe see take hold on props with their tendrils, as if with hands, andraise themselves as if they were animated; it is even said that theyshun cabbages and coleworts, as noxious and pestilential to them, and, if planted by them, will not touch any part. 

But what a vast variety is there of animals! and how wonderfully isevery kind adapted to preserve itself! Some are covered with hides, some clothed with fleeces, and some guarded with bristles; some aresheltered with feathers, some with scales; some are armed with horns, and some are furnished with wings to escape from danger. Nature hathalso liberally and plentifully provided for all animals their properfood. I could expatiate on the judicious and curious formation anddisposition of their bodies for the reception and digestion of it, forall their interior parts are so framed and disposed that there isnothing superfluous, nothing that is not necessary for the preservationof life. Besides, nature has also given these beasts appetite andsense; in order that by the one they may be excited to procuresufficient sustenance, and by the other they may distinguish what isnoxious from what is salutary. Some animals seek their food walking, some creeping, some flying, and some swimming; some take it with theirmouth and teeth; some seize it with their claws, and some with theirbeaks; some suck, some graze, some bolt it whole, and some chew it. Some are so low that they can with ease take such food as is to befound on the ground; but the taller, as geese, swans, cranes, andcamels, are assisted by a length of neck. To the elephant is given ahand, [223] without which, from his unwieldiness of body, he wouldscarce have any means of attaining food. 

XLVIII. But to those beasts which live by preying on others, nature hasgiven either strength or swiftness. On some animals she has evenbestowed artifice and cunning; as on spiders, some of which weave asort of net to entrap and destroy whatever falls into it, others sit onthe watch unobserved to fall on their prey and devour it. The naker--bythe Greeks called _Pinna_--has a kind of confederacy with the prawn forprocuring food. It has two large shells open, into which when thelittle fishes swim, the naker, having notice given by the bite of theprawn, closes them immediately. Thus, these little animals, though ofdifferent kinds, seek their food in common; in which it is matter ofwonder whether they associate by any agreement, or are naturally joinedtogether from their beginning. 

There is some cause to admire also the provision of nature in the caseof those aquatic animals which are generated on land, such ascrocodiles, river-tortoises, and a certain kind of serpents, which seekthe water as soon as they are able to drag themselves along. Wefrequently put duck-eggs under hens, by which, as by their truemothers, the ducklings are at first hatched and nourished; but whenthey see the water, they forsake them and run to it, as to theirnatural abode: so strong is the impression of nature in animals fortheir own preservation. 

XLIX. I have read that there is a bird called Platalea (the shoveller), that lives by watching those fowls which dive into the sea for theirprey, and when they return with it, he squeezes their heads with hisbeak till they drop it, and then seizes on it himself. It is saidlikewise that he is in the habit of filling his stomach withshell-fish, and when they are digested by the heat which exists in thestomach, they cast them up, and then pick out what is propernourishment. The sea-frogs, they say, are wont to cover themselves withsand, and moving near the water, the fishes strike at them, as at abait, and are themselves taken and devoured by the frogs. Between thekite and the crow there is a kind of natural war, and wherever the onefinds the eggs of the other, he breaks them. 

But who is there who can avoid being struck with wonder at that whichhas been noticed by Aristotle, who has enriched us with so manyvaluable remarks? When the cranes[224] pass the sea in search of warmerclimes, they fly in the form of a triangle. By the first angle theyrepel the resisting air; on each side, their wings serve as oars tofacilitate their flight; and the basis of their triangle is assisted bythe wind in their stern. Those which are behind rest their necks andheads on those which precede; and as the leader has not the samerelief, because he has none to lean upon, he at length flies behindthat he may also rest, while one of those which have been easedsucceeds him, and through the whole flight each regularly takes histurn. 

I could produce many instances of this kind; but these may suffice. Letus now proceed to things more familiar to us. The care of beasts fortheir own preservation, their circumspection while feeding, and theirmanner of taking rest in their lairs, are generally known, but stillthey are greatly to be admired. 

L. Dogs cure themselves by a vomit, the Egyptian ibis by a purge; fromwhence physicians have lately--I mean but few ages since--greatlyimproved their art. It is reported that panthers, which in barbarouscountries are taken with poisoned flesh, have a certain remedy[225]that preserves them from dying; and that in Crete, the wild goats, whenthey are wounded with poisoned arrows, seek for an herb called dittany, which, when they have tasted, the arrows (they say) drop from theirbodies. It is said also that deer, before they fawn, purge themselveswith a little herb called hartswort. [226] Beasts, when they receive anyhurt, or fear it, have recourse to their natural arms: the bull to hishorns, the boar to his tusks, and the lion to his teeth. Some take toflight, others hide themselves; the cuttle-fish vomits[227] blood; thecramp-fish benumbs; and there are many animals that, by theirintolerable stink, oblige their pursuers to retire. 

LI. But that the beauty of the world might be eternal, great care hasbeen taken by the providence of the Gods to perpetuate the differentkinds of animals, and vegetables, and trees, and all those things whichsink deep into the earth, and are contained in it by their roots andtrunks; in order to which every individual has within itself suchfertile seed that many are generated from one; and in vegetables thisseed is enclosed in the heart of their fruit, but in such abundancethat men may plentifully feed on it, and the earth be always replanted. 

With regard to animals, do we not see how aptly they are formed for thepropagation of their species? Nature for this end created some malesand some females. Their parts are perfectly framed for generation, andthey have a wonderful propensity to copulation. When the seed hasfallen on the matrix, it draws almost all the nourishment to itself, bywhich the foetus is formed; but as soon as it is discharged fromthence, if it is an animal that is nourished by milk, almost all thefood of the mother turns into milk, and the animal, without anydirection but by the pure instinct of nature, immediately hunts for theteat, and is there fed with plenty. What makes it evidently appear thatthere is nothing in this fortuitous, but the work of a wise andforeseeing nature, is, that those females which bring forth many young, as sows and bitches, have many teats, and those which bear a smallnumber have but few. What tenderness do beasts show in preserving andraising up their young till they are able to defend themselves! Theysay, indeed, that fish, when they have spawned, leave their eggs; butthe water easily supports them, and produces the young fry inabundance. 

LII. It is said, likewise, that tortoises and crocodiles, when theyhave laid their eggs on the land, only cover them with earth, and thenleave them, so that their young are hatched and brought up withoutassistance; but fowls and other birds seek for quiet places to lay in, where they build their nests in the softest manner, for the surestpreservation of their eggs; which, when they have hatched, they defendfrom the cold by the warmth of their wings, or screen them from thesultry heat of the sun. When their young begin to be able to use theirwings, they attend and instruct them; and then their cares are at anend. 

Human art and industry are indeed necessary towards the preservationand improvement of certain animals and vegetables; for there areseveral of both kinds which would perish without that assistance. Thereare likewise innumerable facilities (being different in differentplaces) supplied to man to aid him in his civilization, and inprocuring abundantly what he requires. The Nile waters Egypt, and afterhaving overflowed and covered it the whole summer, it retires, andleaves the fields softened and manured for the reception of seed. TheEuphrates fertilizes Mesopotamia, into which, as we may say, it carriesyearly new fields. [228] The Indus, which is the largest of allrivers, [229] not only improves and cultivates the ground, but sows italso; for it is said to carry with it a great quantity of grain. Icould mention many other countries remarkable for something singular, and many fields, which are, in their own natures, exceedingly fertile. 

LIII. But how bountiful is nature that has provided for us such anabundance of various and delicious food; and this varying with thedifferent seasons, so that we may be constantly pleased with change, and satisfied with abundance! How seasonable and useful to man, tobeasts, and even to vegetables, are the Etesian winds[230] she hasbestowed, which moderate intemperate heat, and render navigation moresure and speedy! Many things must be omitted on a subject socopious--and still a great deal must be said--for it is impossible torelate the great utility of rivers, the flux and reflux of the sea, themountains clothed with grass and trees, the salt-pits remote from thesea-coasts, the earth replete with salutary medicines, or, in short, the innumerable designs of nature necessary for sustenance and theenjoyment of life. We must not forget the vicissitudes of day andnight, ordained for the health of animated beings, giving them a timeto labor and a time to rest. Thus, if we every way examine theuniverse, it is apparent, from the greatest reason, that the whole isadmirably governed by a divine providence for the safety andpreservation of all beings. 

If it should be asked for whose sake this mighty fabric was raised, shall we say for trees and other vegetables, which, though destitute ofsense, are supported by nature? That would be absurd. Is it for beasts?Nothing can be less probable than that the Gods should have taken suchpains for beings void of speech and understanding. For whom, then, willany one presume to say that the world was made? Undoubtedly forreasonable beings; these are the Gods and men, who are certainly themost perfect of all beings, as nothing is equal to reason. It istherefore credible that the universe, and all things in it, were madefor the Gods and for men. 

But we may yet more easily comprehend that the Gods have taken greatcare of the interests and welfare of men, if we examine thoroughly intothe structure of the body, and the form and perfection of human nature. There are three things absolutely necessary for the support of life--toeat, to drink, and to breathe. For these operations the mouth is mostaptly framed, which, by the assistance of the nostrils, draws in themore air. 

LIV. The teeth are there placed to divide and grind the food. [231] Thefore-teeth, being sharp and opposite to each other, cut it asunder, andthe hind-teeth (called the grinders) chew it, in which office thetongue seems to assist. At the root of the tongue is the gullet, whichreceives whatever is swallowed: it touches the tonsils on each side, and terminates at the interior extremity of the palate. When, by themotions of the tongue, the food is forced into this passage, itdescends, and those parts of the gullet which are below it are dilated, and those above are contracted. There is another passage, called byphysicians the rough artery, [232] which reaches to the lungs, for theentrance and return of the air we breathe; and as its orifice is joinedto the roots of the tongue a little above the part to which the gulletis annexed, it is furnished with a sort of coverlid, [233] lest, by theaccidental falling of any food into it, the respiration should bestopped. 

As the stomach, which is beneath the gullet, receives the meat anddrink, so the lungs and the heart draw in the air from without. Thestomach is wonderfully composed, consisting almost wholly of nerves; itabounds with membranes and fibres, and detains what it receives, whether solid or liquid, till it is altered and digested. It sometimescontracts, sometimes dilates. It blends and mixes the food together, sothat it is easily concocted and digested by its force of heat, and bythe animal spirits is distributed into the other parts of the body. 

LV. As to the lungs, they are of a soft and spongy substance, whichrenders them the most commodious for respiration; they alternatelydilate and contract to receive and return the air, that what is thechief animal sustenance may be always fresh. The juice, [234] by whichwe are nourished, being separated from the rest of the food, passes thestomach and intestines to the liver, through open and direct passages, which lead from the mesentery to the gates of the liver (for so theycall those vessels at the entrance of it). There are other passagesfrom thence, through which the food has its course when it has passedthe liver. When the bile, and those humors which proceed from thekidneys, are separated from the food, the remaining part turns toblood, and flows to those vessels at the entrance of the liver to whichall the passages adjoin. The chyle, being conveyed from this placethrough them into the vessel called the hollow vein, is mixed together, and, being already digested and distilled, passes into the heart; andfrom the heart it is communicated through a great number of veins toevery part of the body. 

It is not difficult to describe how the gross remains are detruded bythe motion of the intestines, which contract and dilate; but that mustbe declined, as too indelicate for discourse. Let us rather explainthat other wonder of nature, the air, which is drawn into the lungs, receives heat both by that already in and by the coagitation of thelungs; one part is turned back by respiration, and the other isreceived into a place called the ventricle of the heart. [235] There isanother ventricle like it annexed to the heart, into which the bloodflows from the liver through the hollow vein. Thus by one ventricle theblood is diffused to the extremities through the veins, and by theother the breath is communicated through the arteries; and there aresuch numbers of both dispersed through the whole body that theymanifest a divine art. 

Why need I speak of the bones, those supports of the body, whose jointsare so wonderfully contrived for stability, and to render the limbscomplete with regard to motion and to every action of the body? Or needI mention the nerves, by which the limbs are governed--their manyinterweavings, and their proceeding from the heart, [236] from whence, like the veins and arteries, they have their origin, and aredistributed through the whole corporeal frame?

LVI. To this skill of nature, and this care of providence, so diligentand so ingenious, many reflections may be added, which show whatvaluable things the Deity has bestowed on man. He has made us of astature tall and upright, in order that we might behold the heavens, and so arrive at the knowledge of the Gods; for men are not simply todwell here as inhabitants of the earth, but to be, as it were, spectators of the heavens and the stars, which is a privilege notgranted to any other kind of animated beings. The senses, which are theinterpreters and messengers of things, are placed in the head, as in atower, and wonderfully situated for their proper uses; for the eyes, being in the highest part, have the office of sentinels, in discoveringto us objects; and the ears are conveniently placed in a high part ofthe person, being appointed to receive sound, which naturally ascends. The nostrils have the like situation, because all scent likewiseascends; and they have, with great reason, a near vicinity to themouth, because they assist us in judging of meat and drink. The taste, which is to distinguish the quality of what we take; is in that part ofthe mouth where nature has laid open a passage for what we eat anddrink. But the touch is equally diffused through the whole body, thatwe may not receive any blows, or the too rigid attacks of cold andheat, without feeling them. And as in building the architect avertsfrom the eyes and nose of the master those things which mustnecessarily be offensive, so has nature removed far from our senseswhat is of the same kind in the human body. 

LVII. What artificer but nature, whose direction is incomparable, couldhave exhibited so much ingenuity in the formation of the senses? In thefirst place, she has covered and invested the eyes with the finestmembranes, which she hath made transparent, that we may see throughthem, and firm in their texture, to preserve the eyes. She has madethem slippery and movable, that they might avoid what would offendthem, and easily direct the sight wherever they will. The actual organof sight, which is called the pupil, is so small that it can easilyshun whatever might be hurtful to it. The eyelids, which are theircoverings, are soft and smooth, that they may not injure the eyes; andare made to shut at the apprehension of any accident, or to open atpleasure; and these movements nature has ordained to be made in aninstant: they are fortified with a sort of palisade of hairs, to keepoff what may be noxious to them when open, and to be a fence to theirrepose when sleep closes them, and allows them to rest as if they werewrapped up in a case. Besides, they are commodiously hidden anddefended by eminences on every side; for on the upper part the eyebrowsturn aside the perspiration which falls from the head and forehead; thecheeks beneath rise a little, so as to protect them on the lower side;and the nose is placed between them as a wall of separation. 

The hearing is always open, for that is a sense of which we are in needeven while we are sleeping; and the moment that any sound is admittedby it we are awakened even from sleep. It has a winding passage, lestanything should slip into it, as it might if it were straight andsimple. Nature also hath taken the same precaution in making there aviscous humor, that if any little creatures should endeavor to creepin, they might stick in it as in bird-lime. The ears (by which we meanthe outward part) are made prominent, to cover and preserve thehearing, lest the sound should be dissipated and escape before thesense is affected. Their entrances are hard and horny, and their formwinding, because bodies of this kind better return and increase thesound. This appears in the harp, lute, or horn;[237] and from alltortuous and enclosed places sounds are returned stronger. 

The nostrils, in like manner, are ever open, because we have acontinual use for them; and their entrances also are rather narrow, lest anything noxious should enter them; and they have always ahumidity necessary for the repelling dust and many other extraneousbodies. The taste, having the mouth for an enclosure, is admirablysituated, both in regard to the use we make of it and to its security. 

LVIII. Besides, every human sense is much more exquisite than those ofbrutes; for our eyes, in those arts which come under their judgment, distinguish with great nicety; as in painting, sculpture, engraving, and in the gesture and motion of bodies. They understand the beauty, proportion, and, as I may so term it, the becomingness of colors andfigures; they distinguish things of greater importance, even virtuesand vices; they know whether a man is angry or calm, cheerful or sad, courageous or cowardly, bold or timorous. 

The judgment of the ears is not less admirably and scientificallycontrived with regard to vocal and instrumental music. They distinguishthe variety of sounds, the measure, the stops, the different sorts ofvoices, the treble and the base, the soft and the harsh, the sharp andthe flat, of which human ears only are capable to judge. There islikewise great judgment in the smell, the taste, and the touch; toindulge and gratify which senses more arts have been invented than Icould wish: it is apparent to what excess we have arrived in thecomposition of our perfumes, the preparation of our food, and theenjoyment of corporeal pleasures. 

LIX. Again, he who does not perceive the soul and mind of man, hisreason, prudence, and discernment, to be the work of a divineprovidence, seems himself to be destitute of those faculties. While Iam on this subject, Cotta, I wish I had your eloquence: how would youillustrate so fine a subject! You would show the great extent of theunderstanding; how we collect our ideas, and join those which follow tothose which precede; establish principles, draw consequences, definethings separately, and comprehend them with accuracy; from whence youdemonstrate how great is the power of intelligence and knowledge, whichis such that even God himself has no qualities more admirable. Howvaluable (though you Academics despise and even deny that we have it)is our knowledge of exterior objects, from the perception of the sensesjoined to the application of the mind; by which we see in what relationone thing stands to another, and by the aid of which we have inventedthose arts which are necessary for the support and pleasure of life. How charming is eloquence! How divine that mistress of the universe, asyou call it! It teaches us what we were ignorant of, and makes uscapable of teaching what we have learned. By this we exhort others; bythis we persuade them; by this we comfort the afflicted; by this wedeliver the affrighted from their fear; by this we moderate excessivejoy; by this we assuage the passions of lust and anger. This it iswhich bound men by the chains of right and law, formed the bonds ofcivil society, and made us quit a wild and savage life. 

And it will appear incredible, unless you carefully observe the facts, how complete the work of nature is in giving us the use of speech; for, first of all, there is an artery from the lungs to the bottom of themouth, through which the voice, having its original principle in themind, is transmitted. Then the tongue is placed in the mouth, boundedby the teeth. It softens and modulates the voice, which would otherwisebe confusedly uttered; and, by pushing it to the teeth and other partsof the mouth, makes the sound distinct and articulate. We Stoics, therefore, compare the tongue to the bow of an instrument, the teeth tothe strings, and the nostrils to the sounding-board. 

LX. But how commodious are the hands which nature has given to man, andhow beautifully do they minister to many arts! For, such is theflexibility of the joints, that our fingers are closed and openedwithout any difficulty. With their help, the hand is formed forpainting, carving, and engraving; for playing on stringed instruments, and on the pipe. These are matters of pleasure. There are also works ofnecessity, such as tilling the ground, building houses, making clothand habits, and working in brass and iron. It is the business of themind to invent, the senses to perceive, and the hands to execute; sothat if we have buildings, if we are clothed, if we live in safety, ifwe have cities, walls, habitations, and temples, it is to the hands weowe them. 

By our labor, that is, by our hands, variety and plenty of food areprovided; for, without culture, many fruits, which serve either forpresent or future consumption, would not be produced; besides, we feedon flesh, fish, and fowl, catching some, and bringing up others. Wesubdue four-footed beasts for our carriage, whose speed and strengthsupply our slowness and inability. On some we put burdens, on othersyokes. We convert the sagacity of the elephant and the quick scent ofthe dog to our own advantage. Out of the caverns of the earth we digiron, a thing entirely necessary for the cultivation of the ground. Wediscover the hidden veins of copper, silver, and gold, advantageous forour use and beautiful as ornaments. We cut down trees, and use everykind of wild and cultivated timber, not only to make fire to warm usand dress our meat, but also for building, that we may have houses todefend us from the heat and cold. With timber likewise we build ships, which bring us from all parts every commodity of life. We are the onlyanimals who, from our knowledge of navigation, can manage what naturehas made the most violent--the sea and the winds. Thus we obtain fromthe ocean great numbers of profitable things. We are the absolutemasters of what the earth produces. We enjoy the mountains and theplains. The rivers and the lakes are ours. We sow the seed, and plantthe trees. We fertilize the earth by overflowing it. We stop, direct, and turn the rivers: in short, by our hands we endeavor, by our variousoperations in this world, to make, as it were, another nature. 

LXI. But what shall I say of human reason? Has it not even entered theheavens? Man alone of all animals has observed the courses of thestars, their risings and settings. By man the day, the month, the year, is determined. He foresees the eclipses of the sun and moon, andforetells them to futurity, marking their greatness, duration, andprecise time. From the contemplation of these things the mind extractsthe knowledge of the Gods--a knowledge which produces piety, with whichis connected justice, and all the other virtues; from which arises alife of felicity, inferior to that of the Gods in no single particular, except in immortality, which is not absolutely necessary to happyliving. In explaining these things, I think that I have sufficientlydemonstrated the superiority of man to other animated beings; fromwhence we should infer that neither the form and position of his limbsnor that strength of mind and understanding could possibly be theeffect of chance. 

LXII. I am now to prove, by way of conclusion, that every thing in thisworld of use to us was made designedly for us. 

First of all, the universe was made for the Gods and men, and allthings therein were prepared and provided for our service. For theworld is the common habitation or city of the Gods and men; for theyare the only reasonable beings: they alone live by justice and law. As, therefore, it must be presumed the cities of Athens and Lacedæmon werebuilt for the Athenians and Lacedæmonians, and as everything there issaid to belong to those people, so everything in the universe may withpropriety be said to belong to the Gods and men, and to them alone. 

In the next place, though the revolutions of the sun, moon, and all thestars are necessary for the cohesion of the universe, yet may they beconsidered also as objects designed for the view and contemplation ofman. There is no sight less apt to satiate the eye, none morebeautiful, or more worthy to employ our reason and penetration. Bymeasuring their courses we find the different seasons, their durationsand vicissitudes, which, if they are known to men alone, we mustbelieve were made only for their sake. 

Does the earth bring forth fruit and grain in such excessive abundanceand variety for men or for brutes? The plentiful and exhilarating fruitof the vine and the olive-tree are entirely useless to beasts. Theyknow not the time for sowing, tilling, or for reaping in season andgathering in the fruits of the earth, or for laying up and preservingtheir stores. Man alone has the care and advantage of these things. 

LXIII. Thus, as the lute and the pipe were made for those, and thoseonly, who are capable of playing on them, so it must be allowed thatthe produce of the earth was designed for those only who make use ofthem; and though some beasts may rob us of a small part, it does notfollow that the earth produced it also for them. Men do not store upcorn for mice and ants, but for their wives, their children, and theirfamilies. Beasts, therefore, as I said before, possess it by stealth, but their masters openly and freely. It is for us, therefore, thatnature hath provided this abundance. Can there be any doubt that thisplenty and variety of fruit, which delight not only the taste, but thesmell and sight, was by nature intended for men only? Beasts are so farfrom being partakers of this design, that we see that even theythemselves were made for man; for of what utility would sheep be, unless for their wool, which, when dressed and woven, serves us forclothing? For they are not capable of anything, not even of procuringtheir own food, without the care and assistance of man. The fidelity ofthe dog, his affectionate fawning on his master, his aversion tostrangers, his sagacity in finding game, and his vivacity in pursuit ofit, what do these qualities denote but that he was created for our use?Why need I mention oxen? We perceive that their backs were not formedfor carrying burdens, but their necks were naturally made for the yoke, and their strong broad shoulders to draw the plough. In the Golden Age, which poets speak of, they were so greatly beneficial to the husbandmanin tilling the fallow ground that no violence was ever offered them, and it was even thought a crime to eat them:

 The Iron Age began the fatal trade Of blood, and hammer'd the destructive blade; Then men began to make the ox to bleed, And on the tamed and docile beast to feed[238]. 

LXIV. It would take a long time to relate the advantages which wereceive from mules and asses, which undoubtedly were designed for ouruse. What is the swine good for but to eat? whose life, Chrysippussays, was given it but as salt[239] to keep it from putrefying; and asit is proper food for man, nature hath made no animal more fruitful. What a multitude of birds and fishes are taken by the art andcontrivance of man only, and which are so delicious to our taste thatone would be tempted sometimes to believe that this Providence whichwatches over us was an Epicurean! Though we think there are somebirds--the alites and oscines[240], as our augurs call them--which weremade merely to foretell events. 

The large savage beasts we take by hunting, partly for food, partly toexercise ourselves in imitation of martial discipline, and to use thosewe can tame and instruct, as elephants, or to extract remedies for ourdiseases and wounds, as we do from certain roots and herbs, the virtuesof which are known by long use and experience. Represent to yourselfthe whole earth and seas as if before your eyes. You will see the vastand fertile plains, the thick, shady mountains, the immense pasturagefor cattle, and ships sailing over the deep with incredible celerity;nor are our discoveries only on the face of the earth, but in itssecret recesses there are many useful things, which being made for man, by man alone are discovered. 

LXV. Another, and in my opinion the strongest, proof that theprovidence of the Gods takes care of us is divination, which both ofyou, perhaps, will attack; you, Cotta, because Carneades took pleasurein inveighing against the Stoics; and you, Velleius, because there isnothing Epicurus ridicules so much as the prediction of events. Yet thetruth of divination appears in many places, on many occasions, often inprivate, but particularly in public concerns. We receive manyintimations from the foresight and presages of augurs and auspices;from oracles, prophecies, dreams, and prodigies; and it often happensthat by these means events have proved happy to men, and imminentdangers have been avoided. This knowledge, therefore--call it either akind of transport, or an art, or a natural faculty--is certainly foundonly in men, and is a gift from the immortal Gods. If these proofs, when taken separately, should make no impression upon your mind, yet, when collected together, they must certainly affect you. 

Besides, the Gods not only provide for mankind universally, but forparticular men. You may bring this universality to gradually a smallernumber, and again you may reduce that smaller number to individuals. 

LXVI. For if the reasons which I have given prove to all of us that theGods take care of all men, in every country, in every part of the worldseparate from our continent, they take care of those who dwell on thesame land with us, from east to west; and if they regard those whoinhabit this kind of great island, which we call the globe of theearth, they have the like regard for those who possess the parts ofthis island--Europe, Asia, and Africa; and therefore they favor theparts of these parts, as Rome, Athens, Sparta, and Rhodes; andparticular men of these cities, separate from the whole; as Curius, Fabricius, Coruncanius, in the war with Pyrrhus; in the first Punicwar, Calatinus, Duillius, Metellus, Lutatius; in the second, Maximus, Marcellus, Africanus; after these, Paullus, Gracchus, Cato; and in ourfathers' times, Scipio, Lælius. Rome also and Greece have produced manyillustrious men, who we cannot believe were so without the assistanceof the Deity; which is the reason that the poets, Homer in particular, joined their chief heroes--Ulysses, Agamemnon, Diomedes, Achilles--tocertain Deities, as companions in their adventures and dangers. Besides, the frequent appearances of the Gods, as I have beforementioned, demonstrate their regard for cities and particular men. Thisis also apparent indeed from the foreknowledge of events, which wereceive either sleeping or waking. We are likewise forewarned of manythings by the entrails of victims, by presages, and many other means, which have been long observed with such exactness as to produce an artof divination. 

There never, therefore, was a great man without divine inspiration. Ifa storm should damage the corn or vineyard of a person, or any accidentshould deprive him of some conveniences of life, we should not judgefrom thence that the Deity hates or neglects him. The Gods take care ofgreat things, and disregard the small. But to truly great men allthings ever happen prosperously; as has been sufficiently asserted andproved by us Stoics, as well as by Socrates, the prince ofphilosophers, in his discourses on the infinite advantages arising fromvirtue. 

LXVII. This is almost the whole that hath occurred to my mind on thenature of the Gods, and what I thought proper to advance. Do you, Cotta, if I may advise, defend the same cause. Remember that in Romeyou keep the first rank; remember that you are Pontifex; and as yourschool is at liberty to argue on which side you please[241], do yourather take mine, and reason on it with that eloquence which youacquired by your rhetorical exercises, and which the Academy improved;for it is a pernicious and impious custom to argue against the Gods, whether it be done seriously, or only in pretence and out of sport. 

 * * * * *

BOOK III. 

I. When Balbus had ended this discourse, then Cotta, with a smile, rejoined, You direct me too late which side to defend; for during thecourse of your argument I was revolving in my mind what objections tomake to what you were saying, not so much for the sake of opposition, as of obliging you to explain what I did not perfectly comprehend; andas every one may use his own judgment, it is scarcely possible for meto think in every instance exactly what you wish. 

You have no idea, O Cotta, said Velleius, how impatient I am to hearwhat you have to say. For since our friend Balbus was highly delightedwith your discourse against Epicurus, I ought in my turn to besolicitous to hear what you can say against the Stoics; and I thereforewill give you my best attention, for I believe you are, as usual, wellprepared for the engagement. 

I wish, by Hercules! I were, replies Cotta; for it is more difficult todispute with Lucilius than it was with you. Why so? says Velleius. Because, replies Cotta, your Epicurus, in my opinion, does not contendstrongly for the Gods: he only, for the sake of avoiding anyunpopularity or punishment, is afraid to deny their existence; for whenhe asserts that the Gods are wholly inactive and regardless ofeverything, and that they have limbs like ours, but make no use ofthem, he seems to jest with us, and to think it sufficient if he allowsthat there are beings of any kind happy and eternal. But with regard toBalbus, I suppose you observed how many things were said by him, which, however false they may be, yet have a perfect coherence and connection;therefore, my design, as I said, in opposing him, is not so much toconfute his principles as to induce him to explain what I do notclearly understand: for which reason, Balbus, I will give you thechoice, either to answer me every particular as I go on, or permit meto proceed without interruption. If you want any explanation, repliesBalbus, I would rather you would propose your doubts singly; but ifyour intention is rather to confute me than to seek instruction foryourself, it shall be as you please; I will either answer youimmediately on every point, or stay till you have finished yourdiscourse. 

II. Very well, says Cotta; then let us proceed as our conversationshall direct. But before I enter on the subject, I have a word to sayconcerning myself; for I am greatly influenced by your authority, andyour exhortation at the conclusion of your discourse, when you desiredme to remember that I was Cotta and Pontifex; by which I presume youintimated that I should defend the sacred rites and religion andceremonies which we received from our ancestors. Most undoubtedly Ialways have, and always shall defend them, nor shall the argumentseither of the learned or unlearned ever remove the opinions which Ihave imbibed from them concerning the worship of the immortal Gods. Inmatters of religion I submit to the rules of the high-priests, T. Coruncanius, P. Scipio, and P. Scævola; not to the sentiments of Zeno, Cleanthes, or Chrysippus; and I pay a greater regard to what C. Lælius, one of our augurs and wise men, has written concerning religion, inthat noble oration of his, than to the most eminent of the Stoics: andas the whole religion of the Romans at first consisted in sacrificesand divination by birds, to which have since been added predictions, ifthe interpreters[242] of the Sibylline oracle or the aruspices haveforetold any event from portents and prodigies, I have ever thoughtthat there was no point of all these holy things which deserved to bedespised. I have been even persuaded that Romulus, by institutingdivination, and Numa, by establishing sacrifices, laid the foundationof Rome, which undoubtedly would never have risen to such a height ofgrandeur if the Gods had not been made propitious by this worship. These, Balbus, are my sentiments both as a priest and as Cotta. But youmust bring me to your opinion by the force of your reason: for I have aright to demand from you, as a philosopher, a reason for the religionwhich you would have me embrace. But I must believe the religion of ourancestors without any proof. 

III. What proof, says Balbus, do you require of me? You have proposed, says Cotta, four articles. First of all, you undertook to prove thatthere "are Gods;" secondly, "of what kind and character they are;"thirdly, that "the universe is governed by them;" lastly, that "theyprovide for the welfare of mankind in particular. " Thus, if I rememberrightly, you divided your discourse. Exactly so, replies Balbus; butlet us see what you require. 

Let us examine, says Cotta, every proposition. The first one--thatthere are Gods--is never contested but by the most impious of men; nay, though it can never be rooted out of my mind, yet I believe it on theauthority of our ancestors, and not on the proofs which you havebrought. Why do you expect a proof from me, says Balbus, if youthoroughly believe it? Because, says Cotta, I come to this discussionas if I had never thought of the Gods, or heard anything concerningthem. Take me as a disciple wholly ignorant and unbiassed, and prove tome all the points which I ask. 

Begin, then, replies Balbus. I would first know, says Cotta, why youhave been so long in proving the existence of the Gods, which you saidwas a point so very evident to all, that there was no need of anyproof? In that, answers Balbus, I have followed your example, whom Ihave often observed, when pleading in the Forum, to load the judge withall the arguments which the nature of your cause would permit. Thisalso is the practice of philosophers, and I have a right to follow it. Besides, you may as well ask me why I look upon you with two eyes, since I can see you with one. 

IV. You shall judge, then, yourself, says Cotta, if this is a very justcomparison; for, when I plead, I do not dwell upon any point agreed tobe self-evident, because long reasoning only serves to confound theclearest matters; besides, though I might take this method in pleading, yet I should not make use of it in such a discourse as this, whichrequires the nicest distinction. And with regard to your making use ofone eye only when you look on me, there is no reason for it, sincetogether they have the same view; and since nature, to which youattribute wisdom, has been pleased to give us two passages by which wereceive light. But the truth is, that it was because you did not thinkthat the existence of the Gods was so evident as you could wish thatyou therefore brought so many proofs. It was sufficient for me tobelieve it on the tradition of our ancestors; and since you disregardauthorities, and appeal to reason, permit my reason to defend themagainst yours. The proofs on which you found the existence of the Godstend only to render a proposition doubtful that, in my opinion, is notso; I have not only retained in my memory the whole of these proofs, but even the order in which you proposed them. The first was, that whenwe lift up our eyes towards the heavens, we immediately conceive thatthere is some divinity that governs those celestial bodies; on whichyou quoted this passage--

 Look up to the refulgent heaven above, Which all men call, unanimously, Jove;

intimating that we should invoke that as Jupiter, rather than ourCapitoline Jove[243], or that it is evident to the whole world thatthose bodies are Gods which Velleius and many others do not place evenin the rank of animated beings. 

Another strong proof, in your opinion, was that the belief of theexistence of the Gods was universal, and that mankind was daily moreand more convinced of it. What! should an affair of such importance beleft to the decision of fools, who, by your sect especially, are calledmadmen?

V. But the Gods have appeared to us, as to Posthumius at the LakeRegillus, and to Vatienus in the Salarian Way: something you mentioned, too, I know not what, of a battle of the Locrians at Sagra. Do youbelieve that the Tyndaridæ, as you called them; that is, men sprungfrom men, and who were buried in Lacedæmon, as we learn from Homer, wholived in the next age--do you believe, I say, that they appeared toVatienus on the road mounted on white horses, without any servant toattend them, to tell the victory of the Romans to a country fellowrather than to M. Cato, who was at that time the chief person of thesenate? Do you take that print of a horse's hoof which is now to beseen on a stone at Regillus to be made by Castor's horse? Should younot believe, what is probable, that the souls of eminent men, such asthe Tyndaridæ, are divine and immortal, rather than that those bodieswhich had been reduced to ashes should mount on horses, and fight in anarmy? If you say that was possible, you ought to show how it is so, andnot amuse us with fabulous old women's stories. 

Do you take these for fabulous stories? says Balbus. Is not the temple, built by Posthumius in honor of Castor and Pollux, to be seen in theForum? Is not the decree of the senate concerning Vatienus stillsubsisting? As to the affair of Sagra, it is a common proverb among theGreeks; when they would affirm anything strongly, they say "It is ascertain as what passed at Sagra. " Ought not such authorities to moveyou? You oppose me, replies Cotta, with stories, but I ask reasons ofyou[244]. * * *

VI. We are now to speak of predictions. No one can avoid what is tocome, and, indeed, it is commonly useless to know it; for it is amiserable case to be afflicted to no purpose, and not to have even thelast, the common comfort, hope, which, according to your principles, none can have; for you say that fate governs all things, and call thatfate which has been true from all eternity. What advantage, then, isthe knowledge of futurity to us, or how does it assist us to guardagainst impending evils, since it will come inevitably?

But whence comes that divination? To whom is owing that knowledge fromthe entrails of beasts? Who first made observations from the voice ofthe crow? Who invented the Lots?[245] Not that I give no credit tothese things, or that I despise Attius Navius's staff, which youmentioned; but I ought to be informed how these things are understoodby philosophers, especially as the diviners are often wrong in theirconjectures. But physicians, you say, are likewise often mistaken. Whatcomparison can there be between divination, of the origin of which weare ignorant, and physic, which proceeds on principles intelligible toevery one? You believe that the Decii, [246] in devoting themselves todeath, appeased the Gods. How great, then, was the iniquity of the Godsthat they could not be appeased but at the price of such noble blood!That was the stratagem of generals such as the Greeks call [Greek:stratêgêma], and it was a stratagem worthy such illustrious leaders, who consulted the public good even at the expense of their lives: theyconceived rightly, what indeed happened, that if the general rodefuriously upon the enemy, the whole army would follow his example. Asto the voice of the Fauns, I never heard it. If you assure me that youhave, I shall believe you, though I really know not what a Faun is. 

VII. I do not, then, O Balbus, from anything that you have said, perceive as yet that it is proved that there are Gods. I believe it, indeed, but not from any arguments of the Stoics. Cleanthes, you havesaid, attributes the idea that men have of the Gods to four causes. Inthe first place (as I have already sufficiently mentioned), to aforeknowledge of future events; secondly, to tempests, and other shocksof nature; thirdly, to the utility and plenty of things we enjoy;fourthly, to the invariable order of the stars and the heavens. Thearguments drawn from foreknowledge I have already answered. With regardto tempests in the air, the sea, and the earth, I own that many peopleare affrighted by them, and imagine that the immortal Gods are theauthors of them. 

But the question is, not whether there are people who believe thatthere are Gods, but whether there are Gods or not. As to the two othercauses of Cleanthes, one of which is derived from the great abundanceof desirable things which we enjoy, the other from the invariable orderof the seasons and the heavens, I shall treat on them when I answeryour discourse concerning the providence of the Gods--a point, Balbus, upon which you have spoken at great length. I shall likewise defer tillthen examining the argument which you attribute to Chrysippus, that "ifthere is in nature anything which surpasses the power of man toproduce, there must consequently be some being better than man. " Ishall also postpone, till we come to that part of my argument, yourcomparison of the world to a fine house, your observations on theproportion and harmony of the universe, and those smart, short reasonsof Zeno which you quote; and I shall examine at the same time yourreasons drawn from natural philosophy, concerning that fiery force andthat vital heat which you regard as the principle of all things; and Iwill investigate, in its proper place, all that you advanced the otherday on the existence of the Gods, and on the sense and understandingwhich you attributed to the sun, the moon, and all the stars; and Ishall ask you this question over and over again, By what proofs are youconvinced yourself there are Gods?

VIII. I thought, says Balbus, that I had brought ample proofs toestablish this point. But such is your manner of opposing, that, whenyou seem on the point of interrogating me, and when I am preparing toanswer, you suddenly divert the discourse, and give me no opportunityto reply to you; and thus those most important points concerningdivination and fate are neglected which we Stoics have thoroughlyexamined, but which your school has only slightly touched upon. Butthey are not thought essential to the question in hand; therefore, ifyou think proper, do not confuse them together, that we in thisdiscussion may come to a clear explanation of the subject of ourpresent inquiry. 

Very well, says Cotta. Since, then, you have divided the whole questioninto four parts, and I have said all that I had to say on the first, Iwill take the second into consideration; in which, when you attemptedto show what the character of the Gods was, you seemed to me rather toprove that there are none; for you said that it was the greatestdifficulty to draw our minds from the prepossessions of the eyes; butthat as nothing is more excellent than the Deity, you did not doubtthat the world was God, because there is nothing better in nature thanthe world, and so we may reasonably think it animated, or, rather, perceive it in our minds as clearly as if it were obvious to our eyes. 

Now, in what sense do you say there is nothing better than the world?If you mean that there is nothing more beautiful, I agree with you;that there is nothing more adapted to our wants, I likewise agree withyou: but if you mean that nothing is wiser than the world, I am by nomeans of your opinion. Not that I find it difficult to conceiveanything in my mind independent of my eyes; on the contrary, the more Iseparate my mind from my eyes, the less I am able to comprehend youropinion. 

IX. Nothing is better than the world, you say. Nor is there, indeed, anything on earth better than the city of Rome; do you think, therefore, that our city has a mind; that it thinks and reasons; orthat this most beautiful city, being void of sense, is not preferableto an ant, because an ant has sense, understanding, reason, and memory?You should consider, Balbus, what ought to be allowed you, and notadvance things because they please you. 

For that old, concise, and, as it seemed to you, acute syllogism ofZeno has been all which you have so much enlarged upon in handling thistopic: "That which reasons is superior to that which does not; nothingis superior to the world; therefore the world reasons. " If you wouldprove also that the world can very well read a book, follow the exampleof Zeno, and say, "That which can read is better than that whichcannot; nothing is better than the world; the world therefore canread. " After the same manner you may prove the world to be an orator, amathematician, a musician--that it possesses all sciences, and, inshort, is a philosopher. You have often said that God made all things, and that no cause can produce an effect unlike itself. From hence itwill follow, not only that the world is animated, and is wise, but alsoplays upon the fiddle and the flute, because it produces men who playon those instruments. Zeno, therefore, the chief of your sect, advancesno argument sufficient to induce us to think that the world reasons, or, indeed, that it is animated at all, and consequently none to thinkit a Deity; though it may be said that there is nothing superior to it, as there is nothing more beautiful, nothing more useful to us, nothingmore adorned, and nothing more regular in its motions. But if theworld, considered as one great whole, is not God, you should not surelydeify, as you have done, that infinite multitude of stars which onlyform a part of it, and which so delight you with the regularity oftheir eternal courses; not but that there is something truly wonderfuland incredible in their regularity; but this regularity of motion, Balbus, may as well be ascribed to a natural as to a divine cause. 

X. What can be more regular than the flux and reflux of the Euripus atChalcis, the Sicilian sea, and the violence of the ocean in thoseparts[247]

 where the rapid tide Does Europe from the Libyan coast divide?

The same appears on the Spanish and British coasts. Must we concludethat some Deity appoints and directs these ebbings and flowings tocertain fixed times? Consider, I pray, if everything which is regularin its motion is deemed divine, whether it will not follow that tertianand quartan agues must likewise be so, as their returns have thegreatest regularity. These effects are to be explained by reason; but, because you are unable to assign any, you have recourse to a Deity asyour last refuge. 

The arguments of Chrysippus appeared to you of great weight; a manundoubtedly of great quickness and subtlety (I call those quick whohave a sprightly turn of thought, and those subtle whose minds areseasoned by use as their hands are by labor): "If, " says he, "there isanything which is beyond the power of man to produce, the being whoproduces it is better than man. Man is unable to make what is in theworld; the being, therefore, that could do it is superior to man. Whatbeing is there but a God superior to man? Therefore there is a God. "

These arguments are founded on the same erroneous principles as Zeno's, for he does not define what is meant by being better or more excellent, or distinguish between an intelligent cause and a natural cause. Chrysippus adds, "If there are no Gods, there is nothing better thanman; but we cannot, without the highest arrogance, have this idea ofourselves. " Let us grant that it is arrogance in man to think himselfbetter than the world; but to comprehend that he has understanding andreason, and that in Orion and Canicula there is neither, is noarrogance, but an indication of good sense. "Since we suppose, "continues he, "when we see a beautiful house, that it was built for themaster, and not for mice, we should likewise judge that the world isthe mansion of the Gods. " Yes, if I believed that the Gods built theworld; but not if, as I believe, and intend to prove, it is the work ofnature. 

XI. Socrates, in Xenophon, asks, "Whence had man his understanding, ifthere was none in the world?" And I ask, Whence had we speech, harmony, singing; unless we think it is the sun conversing with the moon whenshe approaches near it, or that the world forms an harmonious concert, as Pythagoras imagines? This, Balbus, is the effect of nature; not ofthat nature which proceeds artificially, as Zeno says, and thecharacter of which I shall presently examine into, but a nature which, by its own proper motions and mutations, modifies everything. 

For I readily agree to what you said about the harmony and generalagreement of nature, which you pronounced to be firmly bound and unitedtogether, as it were, by ties of blood; but I do not approve of whatyou added, that "it could not possibly be so, unless it were so unitedby one divine spirit. " On the contrary, the whole subsists by the powerof nature, independently of the Gods, and there is a kind of sympathy(as the Greeks call it) which joins together all the parts of theuniverse; and the greater that is in its own power, the less is itnecessary to have recourse to a divine intelligence. 

XII. But how will you get rid of the objections which Carneades made?"If, " says he, "there is no body immortal, there is none eternal; butthere is no body immortal, nor even indivisible, or that cannot beseparated and disunited; and as every animal is in its nature passive, so there is not one which is not subject to the impressions ofextraneous bodies; none, that is to say, which can avoid the necessityof enduring and suffering: and if every animal is mortal, there is noneimmortal; so, likewise, if every animal may be cut up and divided, there is none indivisible, none eternal, but all are liable to beaffected by, and compelled to submit to, external power. Every animal, therefore, is necessarily mortal, dissoluble, and divisible. "

For as there is no wax, no silver, no brass which cannot be convertedinto something else, whatever is composed of wax, or silver, or brassmay cease to be what it is. By the same reason, if all the elements aremutable, every body is mutable. 

Now, according to your doctrine, all the elements are mutable; allbodies, therefore, are mutable. But if there were any body immortal, then all bodies would not be mutable. Every body, then, is mortal; forevery body is either water, air, fire, or earth, or composed of thefour elements together, or of some of them. Now, there is not one ofall these elements that does not perish; for earthly bodies arefragile: water is so soft that the least shock will separate its parts, and fire and air yield to the least impulse, and are subject todissolution; besides, any of these elements perish when converted intoanother nature, as when water is formed from earth, the air from water, and the sky from air, and when they change in the same manner backagain. Therefore, if there is nothing but what is perishable in thecomposition of all animals, there is no animal eternal. 

XIII. But, not to insist on these arguments, there is no animal to befound that had not a beginning, and will not have an end; for everyanimal being sensitive, they are consequently all sensible of cold andheat, sweet and bitter; nor can they have pleasing sensations withoutbeing subject to the contrary. As, therefore, they receive pleasure, they likewise receive pain; and whatever being is subject to pain mustnecessarily be subject to death. It must be allowed, therefore, thatevery animal is mortal. 

Besides, a being that is not sensible of pleasure or pain cannot havethe essence of an animal; if, then, on the one hand, every animal mustbe sensible of pleasure and pain, and if, on the other, every beingthat has these sensations cannot be immortal, we may conclude that asthere is no animal insensible, there is none immortal. Besides, thereis no animal without inclination and aversion--an inclination to thatwhich is agreeable to nature, and an aversion to the contrary: thereare in the case of every animal some things which they covet, andothers they reject. What they reject are repugnant to their nature, andconsequently would destroy them. Every animal, therefore, is inevitablysubject to be destroyed. There are innumerable arguments to prove thatwhatever is sensitive is perishable; for cold, heat, pleasure, pain, and all that affects the sense, when they become excessive, causedestruction. Since, then, there is no animal that is not sensitive, there is none immortal. 

XIV. The substance of an animal is either simple or compound; simple, if it is composed only of earth, of fire, of air, or of water (and ofsuch a sort of being we can form no idea); compound, if it is formed ofdifferent elements, which have each their proper situation, and have anatural tendency to it--this element tending towards the highest parts, that towards the lowest, and another towards the middle. Thisconjunction may for some time subsist, but not forever; for everyelement must return to its first situation. No animal, therefore, iseternal. 

But your school, Balbus, allows fire only to be the sole activeprinciple; an opinion which I believe you derive from Heraclitus, whomsome men understand in one sense, some in another: but since he seemsunwilling to be understood, we will pass him by. You Stoics, then, saythat fire is the universal principle of all things; that all livingbodies cease to live on the extinction of that heat; and thatthroughout all nature whatever is sensible of that heat lives andflourishes. Now, I cannot conceive that bodies should perish for wantof heat, rather than for want of moisture or air, especially as theyeven die through excess of heat; so that the life of animals does notdepend more on fire than on the other elements. 

However, air and water have this quality in common with fire and heat. But let us see to what this tends. If I am not mistaken, you believethat in all nature there is nothing but fire, which is self-animated. Why fire rather than air, of which the life of animals consists, andwhich is called from thence _anima_, [248] the soul? But how is it thatyou take it for granted that life is nothing but fire? It seems moreprobable that it is a compound of fire and air. But if fire isself-animated, unmixed with any other element, it must be sensitive, because it renders our bodies sensitive; and the same objection which Ijust now made will arise, that whatever is sensitive must necessarilybe susceptible of pleasure and pain, and whatever is sensible of painis likewise subject to the approach of death; therefore you cannotprove fire to be eternal. 

You Stoics hold that all fire has need of nourishment, without which itcannot possibly subsist; that the sun, moon, and all the stars are fedeither with fresh or salt waters; and the reason that Cleanthes giveswhy the sun is retrograde, and does not go beyond the tropics in thesummer or winter, is that he may not be too far from his sustenance. This I shall fully examine hereafter; but at present we may concludethat whatever may cease to be cannot of its own nature be eternal; thatif fire wants sustenance, it will cease to be, and that, therefore, fire is not of its own nature eternal. 

XV. After all, what kind of a Deity must that be who is not graced withone single virtue, if we should succeed in forming this idea of such aone? Must we not attribute prudence to a Deity? a virtue which consistsin the knowledge of things good, bad, and indifferent. Yet what needhas a being for the discernment of good and ill who neither has nor canhave any ill? Of what use is reason to him? of what use isunderstanding? We men, indeed, find them useful to aid us in findingout things which are obscure by those which are clear to us; butnothing can be obscure to a Deity. As to justice, which gives to everyone his own, it is not the concern of the Gods; since that virtue, according to your doctrine, received its birth from men and from civilsociety. Temperance consists in abstinence from corporeal pleasures, and if such abstinence hath a place in heaven, so also must thepleasures abstained from. Lastly, if fortitude is ascribed to theDeity, how does it appear? In afflictions, in labor, in danger? None ofthese things can affect a God. How, then, can we conceive this to be aDeity that makes no use of reason, and is not endowed with any virtue?

However, when I consider what is advanced by the Stoics, my contemptfor the ignorant multitude vanishes. For these are their divinities. The Syrians worshipped a fish. The Egyptians consecrated beasts ofalmost every kind. The Greeks deified many men; as Alabandus[249] atAlabandæ, Tenes at Tenedos; and all Greece pay divine honors toLeucothea (who was before called Ino), to her son Palæmon, to Hercules, to Æsculapius, and to the Tyndaridæ; our own people to Romulus, and tomany others, who, as citizens newly admitted into the ancient body, they imagine have been received into heaven. 

These are the Gods of the illiterate. 

XVI. What are the notions of you philosophers? In what respect are theysuperior to these ideas? I shall pass them over; for they are certainlyvery admirable. Let the world, then, be a Deity, for that, I conceive, is what you mean by

 The refulgent heaven above, Which all men call, unanimously, Jove. 

But why are we to add many more Gods? What a multitude of them thereis! At least, it seems so to me; for every constellation, according toyou, is a Deity: to some you give the name of beasts, as the goat, thescorpion, the bull, the lion; to others the names of inanimate things, as the ship, the altar, the crown. 

But supposing these were to be allowed, how can the rest be granted, oreven so much as understood? When we call corn Ceres, and wine Bacchus, we make use of the common manner of speaking; but do you think any oneso mad as to believe that his food is a Deity? With regard to thosewho, you say, from having been men became Gods, I should be verywilling to learn of you, either how it was possible formerly, or, if ithad ever been, why is it not so now? I do not conceive, as things areat present, how Hercules, Burn'd with fiery torches on Mount Oeta, as Accius says, should rise, with the flames, To the eternal mansions of his father. 

Besides, Homer also says that Ulysses[250] met him in the shades below, among the other dead. 

But yet I should be glad to know which Hercules we should chieflyworship; for they who have searched into those histories, which are butlittle known, tell us of several. The most ancient is he who foughtwith Apollo about the Tripos of Delphi, and is son of Jupiter andLisyto; and of the most ancient Jupiters too, for we find many Jupitersalso in the Grecian chronicles. The second is the Egyptian Hercules, and is believed to be the son of Nilus, and to be the author of thePhrygian characters. The third, to whom they offered sacrifices, is oneof the Idæi Dactyli. [251] The fourth is the son of Jupiter and Asteria, the sister of Latona, chiefly honored by the Tyrians, who pretend thatCarthago[252] is his daughter. The fifth, called Belus, is worshippedin India. The sixth is the son of Alcmena by Jupiter; but by the thirdJupiter, for there are many Jupiters, as you shall soon see. 

XVII. Since this examination has led me so far, I will convince youthat in matters of religion I have learned more from the pontificalrites, the customs of our ancestors, and the vessels of Numa, [253]which Lælius mentions in his little Golden Oration, than from all thelearning of the Stoics; for tell me, if I were a disciple of yourschool, what answer could I make to these questions? If there are Gods, are nymphs also Goddesses? If they are Goddesses, are Pans and Satyrsin the same rank? But they are not; consequently, nymphs are notGoddesses. Yet they have temples publicly dedicated to them. What doyou conclude from thence? Others who have temples are not thereforeGods. But let us go on. You call Jupiter and Neptune Gods; theirbrother Pluto, then, is one; and if so, those rivers also are Deitieswhich they say flow in the infernal regions--Acheron, Cocytus, Pyriphlegethon; Charon also, and Cerberus, are Gods; but that cannot beallowed; nor can Pluto be placed among the Deities. What, then, willyou say of his brothers?

Thus reasons Carneades; not with any design to destroy the existence ofthe Gods (for what would less become a philosopher?), but to convinceus that on that matter the Stoics have said nothing plausible. If, then, Jupiter and Neptune are Gods, adds he, can that divinity bedenied to their father Saturn, who is principally worshipped throughoutthe West? If Saturn is a God, then must his father, Coelus, be one too, and so must the parents of Coelus, which are the Sky and Day, as alsotheir brothers and sisters, which by ancient genealogists are thusnamed: Love, Deceit, Fear, Labor, Envy, Fate, Old Age, Death, Darkness, Misery, Lamentation, Favor, Fraud, Obstinacy, the Destinies, theHesperides, and Dreams; all which are the offspring of Erebus andNight. These monstrous Deities, therefore, must be received, or elsethose from whom they sprung must be disallowed. 

XVIII. If you say that Apollo, Vulcan, Mercury, and the rest of thatsort are Gods, can you doubt the divinity of Hercules and Æsculapius, Bacchus, Castor and Pollux? These are worshipped as much as those, andeven more in some places. Therefore they must be numbered among theGods, though on the mother's side they are only of mortal race. Aristæus, who is said to have been the son of Apollo, and to have foundout the art of making oil from the olive; Theseus, the son of Neptune;and the rest whose fathers were Deities, shall they not be placed inthe number of the Gods? But what think you of those whose mothers wereGoddesses? They surely have a better title to divinity; for, in thecivil law, as he is a freeman who is born of a freewoman, so, in thelaw of nature, he whose mother is a Goddess must be a God. The isleAstypalæa religiously honor Achilles; and if he is a Deity, Orpheus andRhesus are so, who were born of one of the Muses; unless, perhaps, there may be a privilege belonging to sea marriages which landmarriages have not. Orpheus and Rhesus are nowhere worshipped; and ifthey are therefore not Gods, because they are nowhere worshipped assuch, how can the others be Deities? You, Balbus, seemed to agree withme that the honors which they received were not from their beingregarded as immortals, but as men richly endued with virtue. 

But if you think Latona a Goddess, how can you avoid admitting Hecateto be one also, who was the daughter of Asteria, Latona's sister?Certainly she is one, if we may judge by the altars erected to her inGreece. And if Hecate is a Goddess, how can you refuse that rank to theEumenides? for they also have a temple at Athens, and, if I understandright, the Romans have consecrated a grove to them. The Furies, too, whom we look upon as the inspectors into and scourges of impiety, Isuppose, must have their divinity too. As you hold that there is somedivinity presides over every human affair, there is one who presidesover the travail of matrons, whose name, _Natio_, is derived _anascentibus_, from nativities, and to whom we used to sacrifice in ourprocessions in the fields of Ardæa; but if she is a Deity, we mustlikewise acknowledge all those you mentioned, Honor, Faith, Intellect, Concord; by the same rule also, Hope, Juno, Moneta, [254] and every idlephantom, every child of our imagination, are Deities. But as thisconsequence is quite inadmissible, do not you either defend the causefrom which it flows. 

XIX. What say you to this? If these are Deities, which we worship andregard as such, why are not Serapis and Isis[255] placed in the samerank? And if they are admitted, what reason have we to reject the Godsof the barbarians? Thus we should deify oxen, horses, the ibis, hawks, asps, crocodiles, fishes, dogs, wolves, cats, and many other beasts. Ifwe go back to the source of this superstition, we must equally condemnall the Deities from which they proceed. Shall Ino, whom the Greekscall Leucothea, and we Matuta, be reputed a Goddess, because she wasthe daughter of Cadmus, and shall that title be refused to Circe andPasiphae, [256] who had the sun for their father, and Perseis, daughterof the Ocean, for their mother? It is true, Circe has divine honorspaid her by our colony of Circæum; therefore you call her a Goddess;but what will you say of Medea, the granddaughter of the Sun and theOcean, and daughter of Æetes and Idyia? What will you say of herbrother Absyrtus, whom Pacuvius calls Ægialeus, though the other nameis more frequent in the writings of the ancients? If you did not deifyone as well as the other, what will become of Ino? for all theseDeities have the same origin. 

Shall Amphiaraus and Tryphonius be called Gods? Our publicans, whensome lands in Boeotia were exempted from the tax, as belonging to theimmortal Gods, denied that any were immortal who had been men. But ifyou deify these, Erechtheus surely is a God, whose temple and priest wehave seen at Athens. And can you, then, refuse to acknowledge alsoCodrus, and many others who shed their blood for the preservation oftheir country? And if it is not allowable to consider all these men asGods, then, certainly, probabilities are not in favor of ouracknowledging the _Divinity_ of those previously mentioned beings fromwhom these have proceeded. 

It is easy to observe, likewise, that if in many countries people havepaid divine honors to the memory of those who have signalized theircourage, it was done in order to animate others to practise virtue, andto expose themselves the more willingly to dangers in their country'scause. From this motive the Athenians have deified Erechtheus and hisdaughters, and have erected also a temple, called Leocorion, to thedaughters of Leus. [257] Alabandus is more honored in the city which hefounded than any of the more illustrious Deities; from thenceStratonicus had a pleasant turn--as he had many--when he was troubledwith an impertinent fellow who insisted that Alabandus was a God, butthat Hercules was not; "Very well, " says he, "then let the anger ofAlabandus fall upon me, and that of Hercules upon you. "

XX. Do you not consider, Balbus, to what lengths your arguments for thedivinity of the heaven and the stars will carry you? You deify the sunand the moon, which the Greeks take to be Apollo and Diana. If the moonis a Deity, the morning-star, the other planets, and all the fixedstars are also Deities; and why shall not the rainbow be placed in thatnumber? for it is so wonderfully beautiful that it is justly said to bethe daughter of Thaumas. [258] But if you deify the rainbow, what regardwill you pay to the clouds? for the colors which appear in the bow areonly formed of the clouds, one of which is said to have brought forththe Centaurs; and if you deify the clouds, you cannot pay less regardto the seasons, which the Roman people have really consecrated. Tempests, showers, storms, and whirlwinds must then be Deities. It iscertain, at least, that our captains used to sacrifice a victim to thewaves before they embarked on any voyage. 

As you deify the earth under the name of Ceres, [259] because, as yousaid, she bears fruits (_a gerendo_), and the ocean under that ofNeptune, rivers and fountains have the same right. Thus we see thatMaso, the conqueror of Corsica, dedicated a temple to a fountain, andthe names of the Tiber, Spino, Almo, Nodinus, and other neighboringrivers are in the prayers[260] of the augurs. Therefore, either thenumber of such Deities will be infinite, or we must admit none of them, and wholly disapprove of such an endless series of superstition. 

XXI. None of all these assertions, then, are to be admitted. I mustproceed now, Balbus, to answer those who say that, with regard to thosedeified mortals, so religiously and devoutly reverenced, the publicopinion should have the force of reality. To begin, then: they who arecalled theologists say that there are three Jupiters; the first andsecond of whom were born in Arcadia; one of whom was the son of Æther, and father of Proserpine and Bacchus; the other the son of Coelus, andfather of Minerva, who is called the Goddess and inventress of war; thethird one born of Saturn in the isle of Crete, [261] where his sepulchreis shown. The sons of Jupiter ([Greek: Dioskouroi]) also, among theGreeks, have many names; first, the three who at Athens have the titleof Anactes, [262] Tritopatreus, Eubuleus, and Dionysus, sons of the mostancient king Jupiter and Proserpine; the next are Castor and Pollux, sons of the third Jupiter and Leda; and, lastly, three others, by somecalled Alco, [263] Melampus, and Tmolus, sons of Atreus, the son ofPelops. 

As to the Muses, there were at first four--Thelxiope, Aoede, Arche, andMelete--daughters of the second Jupiter; afterward there were nine, daughters of the third Jupiter and Mnemosyne; there were also nineothers, having the same appellations, born of Pierus and Antiopa, bythe poets usually called Pierides and Pieriæ. Though _Sol_ (the sun) isso called, you say, because he is _solus_ (single); yet how many sunsdo theologists mention? There is one, the son of Jupiter and grandsonof Æther; another, the son of Hyperion; a third, who, the Egyptianssay, was of the city Heliopolis, sprung from Vulcan, the son of Nilus;a fourth is said to have been born at Rhodes of Acantho, in the timesof the heroes, and was the grandfather of Jalysus, Camirus, and Lindus;a fifth, of whom, it is pretended, Aretes and Circe were born atColchis. 

XXII. There are likewise several Vulcans. The first (who had of Minervathat Apollo whom the ancient historians call the tutelary God ofAthens) was the son of Coelus; the second, whom the Egyptians callOpas, [264] and whom they looked upon as the protector of Egypt, is theson of Nilus; the third, who is said to have been the master of theforges at Lemnos, was the son of the third Jupiter and of Juno; thefourth, who possessed the islands near Sicily called Vulcaniæ, [265] wasthe son of Menalius. One Mercury had Coelus for his father and Dies forhis mother; another, who is said to dwell in a cavern, and is the sameas Trophonius, is the son of Valens and Phoronis. A third, of whom, andof Penelope, Pan was the offspring, is the son of the third Jupiter andMaia. A fourth, whom the Egyptians think it a crime to name, is the sonof Nilus. A fifth, whom we call, in their language, Thoth, as with themthe first month of the year is called, is he whom the people ofPheneum[266] worship, and who is said to have killed Argus, to havefled for it into Egypt, and to have given laws and learning to theEgyptians. The first of the Æsculapii, the God of Arcadia, who is saidto have invented the probe and to have been the first person who taughtmen to use bandages for wounds, is the son of Apollo. The second, whowas killed with thunder, and is said to be buried in Cynosura, [267] isthe brother of the second Mercury. The third, who is said to have foundout the art of purging the stomach, and of drawing teeth, is the son ofArsippus and Arsinoe; and in Arcadia there is shown his tomb, and thewood which is consecrated to him, near the river Lusium. 

XXIII. I have already spoken of the most ancient of the Apollos, who isthe son of Vulcan, and tutelar God of Athens. There is another, son ofCorybas, and native of Crete, for which island he is said to havecontended with Jupiter himself. A third, who came from the regions ofthe Hyperborei[268] to Delphi, is the son of the third Jupiter and ofLatona. A fourth was of Arcadia, whom the Arcadians called Nomio, [269]because they regarded him as their legislator. There are likewise manyDianas. The first, who is thought to be the mother of the winged Cupid, is the daughter of Jupiter and Proserpine. The second, who is moreknown, is daughter of the third Jupiter and of Latona. The third, whomthe Greeks often call by her father's name, is the daughter ofUpis[270] and Glauce. There are many also of the Dionysi. The first wasthe son of Jupiter and Proserpine. The second, who is said to havekilled Nysa, was the son of Nilus. The third, who reigned in Asia, andfor whom the Sabazia[271] were instituted, was the son of Caprius. Thefourth, for whom they celebrate the Orphic festivals, sprung fromJupiter and Luna. The fifth, who is supposed to have instituted theTrieterides, was the son of Nysus and Thyone. 

The first Venus, who has a temple at Elis, was the daughter of Coelusand Dies. The second arose out of the froth of the sea, and became, byMercury, the mother of the second Cupid. The third, the daughter ofJupiter and Diana, was married to Vulcan, but is said to have hadAnteros by Mars. The fourth was a Syrian, born of Tyro, who is calledAstarte, and is said to have been married to Adonis. I have alreadymentioned one Minerva, mother of Apollo. Another, who is worshipped atSais, a city in Egypt, sprung from Nilus. The third, whom I have alsomentioned, was daughter of Jupiter. The fourth, sprung from Jupiter andCoryphe, the daughter of the Ocean; the Arcadians call her Coria, andmake her the inventress of chariots. A fifth, whom they paint withwings at her heels, was daughter of Pallas, and is said to have killedher father for endeavoring to violate her chastity. The first Cupid issaid to be the son of Mercury and the first Diana; the second, ofMercury and the second Venus; the third, who is the same as Anteros, ofMars and the third Venus. 

All these opinions arise from old stories that were spread in Greece;the belief in which, Balbus, you well know, ought to be stopped, lestreligion should suffer. But you Stoics, so far from refuting them, evengive them authority by the mysterious sense which you pretend to findin them. Can you, then, think, after this plain refutation, that thereis need to employ more subtle reasonings? But to return from thisdigression. 

XXIV. We see that the mind, faith, hope, virtue, honor, victory, health, concord, and things of such kind, are purely natural, and havenothing of divinity in them; for either they are inherent in us, as themind, faith, hope, virtue, and concord are; or else they are to bedesired, as honor, health, and victory. I know indeed that they areuseful to us, and see that statues have been religiously erected forthem; but as to their divinity, I shall begin to believe it when youhave proved it for certain. Of this kind I may particularly mentionFortune, which is allowed to be ever inseparable from inconstancy andtemerity, which are certainly qualities unworthy of a divine being. 

But what delight do you take in the explication of fables, and in theetymology of names?--that Coelus was castrated by his son, and thatSaturn was bound in chains by his son! By your defence of these andsuch like fictions you would make the authors of them appear not onlynot to be madmen, but to have been even very wise. But the pains whichyou take with your etymologies deserve our pity. That Saturn is socalled because _se saturat annis_, he is full of years; Mavors, Mars, because _magna vortit_, he brings about mighty changes; Minerva, because _minuit_, she diminishes, or because _minatur_, she threatens;Venus, because _venit ad omnia_, she comes to all; Ceres, _a gerendo_, from bearing. How dangerous is this method! for there are many nameswould puzzle you. From what would you derive Vejupiter and Vulcan?Though, indeed, if you can derive Neptune _a nando_, from swimming, inwhich you seem to me to flounder about yourself more than Neptune, youmay easily find the origin of all names, since it is founded only uponthe conformity of some one letter. Zeno first, and after him Cleanthesand Chrysippus, are put to the unnecessary trouble of explaining merefables, and giving reasons for the several appellations of every Deity;which is really owning that those whom we call Gods are not therepresentations of deities, but natural things, and that to judgeotherwise is an error. 

XXV. Yet this error has so much prevailed that even pernicious thingshave not only the title of divinity ascribed to them, but have alsosacrifices offered to them; for Fever has a temple on the Palatinehill, and Orbona another near that of the Lares, and we see on theEsquiline hill an altar consecrated to Ill-fortune. Let all such errorsbe banished from philosophy, if we would advance, in our disputeconcerning the immortal Gods, nothing unworthy of immortal beings. Iknow myself what I ought to believe; which is far different from whatyou have said. You take Neptune for an intelligence pervading the sea. You have the same opinion of Ceres with regard to the earth. I cannot, I own, find out, or in the least conjecture, what that intelligence ofthe sea or the earth is. To learn, therefore, the existence of theGods, and of what description and character they are, I must applyelsewhere, not to the Stoics. 

Let us proceed to the two other parts of our dispute: first, "whetherthere is a divine providence which governs the world;" and lastly, "whether that providence particularly regards mankind;" for these arethe remaining propositions of your discourse; and I think that, if youapprove of it, we should examine these more accurately. With all myheart, says Velleius, for I readily agree to what you have hithertosaid, and expect still greater things from you. 

I am unwilling to interrupt you, says Balbus to Cotta, but we shalltake another opportunity, and I shall effectually convince you. But[272] * * *

XXVI. Shall I adore, and bend the suppliant knee, Who scorn their power and doubt their deity?

Does not Niobe here seem to reason, and by that reasoning to bring allher misfortunes upon herself? But what a subtle expression is thefollowing!

 On strength of will alone depends success;

a maxim capable of leading us into all that is bad. 

 Though I'm confined, his malice yet is vain, His tortured heart shall answer pain for pain; His ruin soothe my soul with soft content, Lighten my chains, and welcome banishment!

This, now, is reason; that reason which you say the divine goodness hasdenied to the brute creation, kindly to bestow it on men alone. Howgreat, how immense the favor! Observe the same Medea flying from herfather and her country:

 The guilty wretch from her pursuer flies. By her own hands the young Absyrtus slain, His mangled limbs she scatters o'er the plain, That the fond sire might sink beneath his woe, And she to parricide her safety owe. 

Reflection, as well as wickedness, must have been necessary to thepreparation of such a fact; and did he too, who prepared that fatalrepast for his brother, do it without reflection?

 Revenge as great as Atreus' injury Shall sink his soul and crown his misery. 

XXVII. Did not Thyestes himself, not content with having defiled hisbrother's bed (of which Atreus with great justice thus complains, When faithless comforts, in the lewd embrace, With vile adultery stain a royal race, The blood thus mix'd in fouler currents flows, Taints the rich soil, and breeds unnumber'd woes)--

did he not, I say, by that adultery, aim at the possession of thecrown? Atreus thus continues:

 A lamb, fair gift of heaven, with golden fleece, Promised in vain to fix my crown in peace; But base Thyestes, eager for the prey, Crept to my bed, and stole the gem away. 

Do you not perceive that Thyestes must have had a share of reasonproportionable to the greatness of his crimes--such crimes as are notonly represented to us on the stage, but such as we see committed, nay, often exceeded, in the common course of life? The private houses ofindividual citizens, the public courts, the senate, the camp, ourallies, our provinces, all agree that reason is the author of all theill, as well as of all the good, which is done; that it makes few actwell, and that but seldom, but many act ill, and that frequently; andthat, in short, the Gods would have shown greater benevolence indenying us any reason at all than in sending us that which isaccompanied with so much mischief; for as wine is seldom wholesome, butoften hurtful in diseases, we think it more prudent to deny it to thepatient than to run the risk of so uncertain a remedy; so I do not knowwhether it would not be better for mankind to be deprived of wit, thought, and penetration, or what we call reason, since it is a thingpernicious to many and very useful to few, than to have it bestowedupon them with so much liberality and in such abundance. But if thedivine will has really consulted the good of man in this gift ofreason, the good of those men only was consulted on whom awell-regulated one is bestowed: how few those are, if any, is veryapparent. We cannot admit, therefore, that the Gods consulted the goodof a few only; the conclusion must be that they consulted the good ofnone. 

XXVIII. You answer that the ill use which a great part of mankind makeof reason no more takes away the goodness of the Gods, who bestow it asa present of the greatest benefit to them, than the ill use whichchildren make of their patrimony diminishes the obligation which theyhave to their parents for it. We grant you this; but where is thesimilitude? It was far from Deianira's design to injure Hercules whenshe made him a present of the shirt dipped in the blood of theCentaurs. Nor was it a regard to the welfare of Jason of Pheræ thatinfluenced the man who with his sword opened his imposthume, which thephysicians had in vain attempted to cure. For it has often happenedthat people have served a man whom they intended to injure, and haveinjured one whom they designed to serve; so that the effect of the giftis by no means always a proof of the intention of the giver; neitherdoes the benefit which may accrue from it prove that it came from thehands of a benefactor. For, in short, what debauchery, what avarice, what crime among men is there which does not owe its birth to thoughtand reflection, that is, to reason? For all opinion is reason: rightreason, if men's thoughts are conformable to truth; wrong reason, ifthey are not. The Gods only give us the mere faculty of reason, if wehave any; the use or abuse of it depends entirely upon ourselves; sothat the comparison is not just between the present of reason given usby the Gods, and a patrimony left to a son by his father; for, afterall, if the injury of mankind had been the end proposed by the Gods, what could they have given them more pernicious than reason? for whatseed could there be of injustice, intemperance, and cowardice, ifreason were not laid as the foundation of these vices?

XXIX. I mentioned just now Medea and Atreus, persons celebrated inheroic poems, who had used this reason only for the contrivance andpractice of the most flagitious crimes; but even the triflingcharacters which appear in comedies supply us with the like instancesof this reasoning faculty; for example, does not he, in the Eunuch, reason with some subtlety?--

 What, then, must I resolve upon? She turn'd me out-of-doors; she sends for me back again; Shall I go? no, not if she were to beg it of me. 

Another, in the Twins, making no scruple of opposing a received maxim, after the manner of the Academics, asserts that when a man is in loveand in want, it is pleasant

 To have a father covetous, crabbed, and passionate, Who has no love or affection for his children. 

This unaccountable opinion he strengthens thus:

 You may defraud him of his profits, or forge letters in his name, Or fright him by your servant into compliance; And what you take from such an old hunks, How much more pleasantly do you spend it!

On the contrary, he says that an easy, generous father is aninconvenience to a son in love; for, says he, I can't tell how to abuse so good, so prudent a parent, Who always foreruns my desires, and meets me purse in hand, To support me in my pleasures: this easy goodness and generosity Quite defeat all my frauds, tricks, and stratagems. [273]

What are these frauds, tricks, and stratagems but the effects ofreason? O excellent gift of the Gods! Without this Phormio could nothave said, Find me out the old man: I have something hatching for him in my head. 

XXX. But let us pass from the stage to the bar. The prætor[274] takeshis seat. To judge whom? The man who set fire to our archives. Howsecretly was that villany conducted! Q. Sosius, an illustrious Romanknight, of the Picene field, [275] confessed the fact. Who else is to betried? He who forged the public registers--Alenus, an artful fellow, who counterfeited the handwriting of the six officers. [276] Let us callto mind other trials: that on the subject of the gold of Tolosa, or theconspiracy of Jugurtha. Let us trace back the informations laid againstTubulus for bribery in his judicial office; and, since that, theproceedings of the tribune Peduceus concerning the incest of thevestals. Let us reflect upon the trials which daily happen forassassinations, poisonings, embezzlement of public money, frauds inwills, against which we have a new law; then that action against theadvisers or assisters of any theft; the many laws concerning frauds inguardianship, breaches of trust in partnerships and commissions intrade, and other violations of faith in buying, selling, borrowing, orlending; the public decree on a private affair by the LætorianLaw;[277] and, lastly, that scourge of all dishonesty, the law againstfraud, proposed by our friend Aquillius; that sort of fraud, he says, by which one thing is pretended and another done. Can we, then, thinkthat this plentiful fountain of evil sprung from the immortal Gods? Ifthey have given reason to man, they have likewise given him subtlety, for subtlety is only a deceitful manner of applying reason to domischief. To them likewise we must owe deceit, and every other crime, which, without the help of reason, would neither have been thought ofnor committed. As the old woman wished

 That to the fir which on Mount Pelion grew The axe had ne'er been laid, [278]

so we should wish that the Gods had never bestowed this ability on man, the abuse of which is so general that the small number of those whomake a good use of it are often oppressed by those who make a bad useof it; so that it seems to be given rather to help vice than to promotevirtue among us. 

XXXI. This, you insist on it, is the fault of man, and not of the Gods. But should we not laugh at a physician or pilot, though they are weakmortals, if they were to lay the blame of their ill success on theviolence of the disease or the fury of the tempest? Had there not beendanger, we should say, who would have applied to you? This reasoninghas still greater force against the Deity. The fault, you say, is inman, if he commits crimes. But why was not man endued with a reasonincapable of producing any crimes? How could the Gods err? When weleave our effects to our children, it is in hopes that they may be wellbestowed; in which we may be deceived, but how can the Deity bedeceived? As Phoebus when he trusted his chariot to his son Phaëthon, or as Neptune when he indulged his son Theseus in granting him threewishes, the consequence of which was the destruction of Hippolitus?These are poetical fictions; but truth, and not fables, ought toproceed from philosophers. Yet if those poetical Deities had foreseenthat their indulgence would have proved fatal to their sons, they musthave been thought blamable for it. 

Aristo of Chios used often to say that the philosophers do hurt to suchof their disciples as take their good doctrine in a wrong sense; thusthe lectures of Aristippus might produce debauchees, and those of Zenopedants. If this be true, it were better that philosophers should besilent than that their disciples should be corrupted by amisapprehension of their master's meaning; so if reason, which wasbestowed on mankind by the Gods with a good design, tends only to makemen more subtle and fraudulent, it had been better for them never tohave received it. There could be no excuse for a physician whoprescribes wine to a patient, knowing that he will drink it andimmediately expire. Your Providence is no less blamable in givingreason to man, who, it foresaw, would make a bad use of it. Will yousay that it did not foresee it? Nothing could please me more than suchan acknowledgment. But you dare not. I know what a sublime idea youentertain of her. 

XXXII. But to conclude. If folly, by the unanimous consent ofphilosophers, is allowed to be the greatest of all evils, and if no oneever attained to true wisdom, we, whom they say the immortal Gods takecare of, are consequently in a state of the utmost misery. For thatnobody is well, or that nobody can be well, is in effect the samething; and, in my opinion, that no man is truly wise, or that no mancan be truly wise, is likewise the same thing. But I will insist nofurther on so self-evident a point. Telamon in one verse decides thequestion. If, says he, there is a Divine Providence, Good men would be happy, bad men miserable. 

But it is not so. If the Gods had regarded mankind, they should havemade them all virtuous; but if they did not regard the welfare of allmankind, at least they ought to have provided for the happiness of thevirtuous. Why, therefore, was the Carthaginian in Spain suffered todestroy those best and bravest men, the two Scipios? Why didMaximus[279] lose his son, the consul? Why did Hannibal kill Marcellus?Why did Cannæ deprive us of Paulus? Why was the body of Regulusdelivered up to the cruelty of the Carthaginians? Why was not Africanusprotected from violence in his own house? To these, and many moreancient instances, let us add some of later date. Why is Rutilius, myuncle, a man of the greatest virtue and learning, now in banishment?Why was my own friend and companion Drusus assassinated in his ownhouse? Why was Scævola, the high-priest, that pattern of moderation andprudence, massacred before the statue of Vesta? Why, before that, wereso many illustrious citizens put to death by Cinna? Why had Marius, themost perfidious of men, the power to cause the death of Catulus, a manof the greatest dignity? But there would be no end of enumeratingexamples of good men made miserable and wicked men prosperous. Why didthat Marius live to an old age, and die so happily at his own house inhis seventh consulship? Why was that inhuman wretch Cinna permitted toenjoy so long a reign?

XXXIII. He, indeed, met with deserved punishment at last. But would itnot have been better that these inhumanities had been prevented thanthat the author of them should be punished afterward? Varius, a mostimpious wretch, was tortured and put to death. If this was hispunishment for the murdering Drusus by the sword, and Metellus bypoison, would it not have been better to have preserved their livesthan to have their deaths avenged on Varius? Dionysius was thirty-eightyears a tyrant over the most opulent and flourishing city; and, beforehim, how many years did Pisistratus tyrannize in the very flower ofGreece! Phalaris and Apollodorus met with the fate they deserved, butnot till after they had tortured and put to death multitudes. Manyrobbers have been executed; but the number of those who have sufferedfor their crimes is short of those whom they have robbed and murdered. Anaxarchus, [280] a scholar of Democritus, was cut to pieces by commandof the tyrant of Cyprus; and Zeno of Elea[281] ended his life intortures. What shall I say of Socrates, [282] whose death, as often as Iread of it in Plato, draws fresh tears from my eyes? If, therefore, theGods really see everything that happens to men, you must acknowledgethey make no distinction between the good and the bad. 

XXXIV. Diogenes the Cynic used to say of Harpalus, one of the mostfortunate villains of his time, that the constant prosperity of such aman was a kind of witness against the Gods. Dionysius, of whom we havebefore spoken, after he had pillaged the temple of Proserpine atLocris, set sail for Syracuse, and, having a fair wind during hisvoyage, said, with a smile, "See, my friends, what favorable winds theimmortal Gods bestow upon church-robbers. " Encouraged by thisprosperous event, he proceeded in his impiety. When he landed atPeloponnesus, he went into the temple of Jupiter Olympius, and disrobedhis statue of a golden mantle of great weight, an ornament which thetyrant Gelo[283] had given out of the spoils of the Carthaginians, andat the same time, in a jesting manner, he said "that a golden mantlewas too heavy in summer and too cold in winter;" and then, throwing awoollen cloak over the statue, added, "This will serve for allseasons. " At another time, he ordered the golden beard of Æsculapius ofEpidaurus to be taken away, saying that "it was absurd for the son tohave a beard, when his father had none. " He likewise robbed the templesof the silver tables, which, according to the ancient custom of Greece, bore this inscription, "To the good Gods, " saying "he was willing tomake use of their goodness;" and, without the least scruple, took awaythe little golden emblems of victory, the cups and coronets, which werein the stretched-out hands of the statues, saying "he did not take, butreceive them; for it would be folly not to accept good things from theGods, to whom we are constantly praying for favors, when they stretchout their hands towards us. " And, last of all, all the things which hehad thus pillaged from the temples were, by his order, brought to themarket-place and sold by the common crier; and, after he had receivedthe money for them, he commanded every purchaser to restore what he hadbought, within a limited time, to the temples from whence they came. Thus to his impiety towards the Gods he added injustice to man. 

XXXV. Yet neither did Olympian Jove strike him with his thunder, nordid Æsculapius cause him to die by tedious diseases and a lingeringdeath. He died in his bed, had funeral honors[284] paid to him, andleft his power, which he had wickedly obtained, as a just and lawfulinheritance to his son. 

It is not without concern that I maintain a doctrine which seems toauthorize evil, and which might probably give a sanction to it, ifconscience, without any divine assistance, did not point out, in theclearest manner, the difference between virtue and vice. Withoutconscience man is contemptible. For as no family or state can besupposed to be formed with any reason or discipline if there are norewards for good actions nor punishment for crimes, so we cannotbelieve that a Divine Providence regulates the world if there is nodistinction between the honest and the wicked. 

But the Gods, you say, neglect trifling things: the little fields orvineyards of particular men are not worthy their attention; and ifblasts or hail destroy their product, Jupiter does not regard it, nordo kings extend their care to the lower offices of government. Thisargument might have some weight if, in bringing Rutilius as aninstance, I had only complained of the loss of his farm at Formiæ; butI spoke of a personal misfortune, his banishment. [285]

XXXVI. All men agree that external benefits, such as vineyards, corn, olives, plenty of fruit and grain, and, in short, every convenience andproperty of life, are derived from the Gods; and, indeed, with reason, since by our virtue we claim applause, and in virtue we justly glory, which we could have no right to do if it was the gift of the Gods, andnot a personal merit. When we are honored with new dignities, orblessed with increase of riches; when we are favored by fortune beyondour expectation, or luckily delivered from any approaching evil, wereturn thanks for it to the Gods, and assume no praise to ourselves. But who ever thanked the Gods that he was a good man? We thank them, indeed, for riches, health, and honor. For these we invoke the all-goodand all-powerful Jupiter; but not for wisdom, temperance, and justice. No one ever offered a tenth of his estate to Hercules to be made wise. It is reported, indeed, of Pythagoras that he sacrificed an ox to theMuses upon having made some new discovery in geometry;[286] but, for mypart, I cannot believe it, because he refused to sacrifice even toApollo at Delos, lest he should defile the altar with blood. But toreturn. It is universally agreed that good fortune we must ask of theGods, but wisdom must arise from ourselves; and though temples havebeen consecrated to the Mind, to Virtue, and to Faith, yet that doesnot contradict their being inherent in us. In regard to hope, safety, assistance, and victory, we must rely upon the Gods for them; fromwhence it follows, as Diogenes said, that the prosperity of the wickeddestroys the idea of a Divine Providence. 

XXXVII. But good men have sometimes success. They have so; but wecannot, with any show of reason, attribute that success to the Gods. Diagoras, who is called the atheist, being at Samothrace, one of hisfriends showed him several pictures[287] of people who had endured verydangerous storms; "See, " says he, "you who deny a providence, how manyhave been saved by their prayers to the Gods. " "Ay, " says Diagoras, "Isee those who were saved, but where are those painted who wereshipwrecked?" At another time, he himself was in a storm, when thesailors, being greatly alarmed, told him they justly deserved thatmisfortune for admitting him into their ship; when he, pointing toothers under the like distress, asked them "if they believed Diagoraswas also aboard those ships?" In short, with regard to good or badfortune, it matters not what you are, or how you have lived. The Gods, like kings, regard not everything. What similitude is there betweenthem? If kings neglect anything, want of knowledge may be pleaded intheir defence; but ignorance cannot be brought as an excuse for theGods. 

XXXVIII. Your manner of justifying them is somewhat extraordinary, whenyou say that if a wicked man dies without suffering for his crimes, theGods inflict a punishment on his children, his children's children, andall his posterity. O wonderful equity of the Gods! What city wouldendure the maker of a law which should condemn a son or a grandson fora crime committed by the father or the grandfather?

 Shall Tantalus' unhappy offspring know No end, no close, of this long scene of woe? When will the dire reward of guilt be o'er, And Myrtilus demand revenge no more?[288]

Whether the poets have corrupted the Stoics, or the Stoics givenauthority to the poets, I cannot easily determine. Both alike are to becondemned. If those persons whose names have been branded in thesatires of Hipponax or Archilochus[289] were driven to despair, it didnot proceed from the Gods, but had its origin in their own minds. Whenwe see Ægistus and Paris lost in the heat of an impure passion, why arewe to attribute it to a Deity, when the crime, as it were, speaks foritself? I believe that those who recover from illness are more indebtedto the care of Hippocrates than to the power of Æsculapius; that Spartareceived her laws from Lycurgus[290] rather than from Apollo; thatthose eyes of the maritime coast, Corinth and Carthage, were pluckedout, the one by Critolaus, the other by Hasdrubal, without theassistance of any divine anger, since you yourselves confess that aDeity cannot possibly be angry on any provocation. 

XXXIX. But could not the Deity have assisted and preserved thoseeminent cities? Undoubtedly he could; for, according to your doctrine, his power is infinite, and without the least labor; and as nothing butthe will is necessary to the motion of our bodies, so the divine willof the Gods, with the like ease, can create, move, and change allthings. This you hold, not from a mere phantom of superstition, but onnatural and settled principles of reason; for matter, you say, of whichall things are composed and consist, is susceptible of all forms andchanges, and there is nothing which cannot be, or cease to be, in aninstant; and that Divine Providence has the command and disposal ofthis universal matter, and consequently can, in any part of theuniverse, do whatever she pleases: from whence I conclude that thisProvidence either knows not the extent of her power, or neglects humanaffairs, or cannot judge what is best for us. Providence, you say, doesnot extend her care to particular men; there is no wonder in that, since she does not extend it to cities, or even to nations, or people. If, therefore, she neglects whole nations, is it not very probable thatshe neglects all mankind? But how can you assert that the Gods do notenter into all the little circumstances of life, and yet hold that theydistribute dreams among men? Since you believe in dreams, it is yourpart to solve this difficulty. Besides, you say we ought to call uponthe Gods. Those who call upon the Gods are individuals. DivineProvidence, therefore, regards individuals, which consequently provesthat they are more at leisure than you imagine. Let us suppose theDivine Providence to be greatly busied; that it causes the revolutionsof the heavens, supports the earth, and rules the seas; why does itsuffer so many Gods to be unemployed? Why is not the superintendence ofhuman affairs given to some of those idle Deities which you say areinnumerable?

This is the purport of what I had to say concerning "the Nature of theGods;" not with a design to destroy their existence, but merely to showwhat an obscure point it is, and with what difficulties an explanationof it is attended. 

XL. Balbus, observing that Cotta had finished his discourse--You havebeen very severe, says he, against a Divine Providence, a doctrineestablished by the Stoics with piety and wisdom; but, as it grows toolate, I shall defer my answer to another day. Our argument is of thegreatest importance; it concerns our altars, [291] our hearths, ourtemples, nay, even the walls of our city, which you priests holdsacred; you, who by religion defend Rome better than she is defended byher ramparts. This is a cause which, while I have life, I think Icannot abandon without impiety. 

There is nothing, replied Cotta, which I desire more than to beconfuted. I have not pretended to decide this point, but to give you myprivate sentiments upon it; and am very sensible of your greatsuperiority in argument. No doubt of it, says Velleius; we have much tofear from one who believes that our dreams are sent from Jupiter, which, though they are of little weight, are yet of more importancethan the discourse of the Stoics concerning the nature of the Gods. Theconversation ended here, and we parted. Velleius judged that thearguments of Cotta were truest; but those of Balbus seemed to me tohave the greater probability. [292]

ON THE COMMONWEALTH. 

 * * * * *

PREFACE BY THE EDITOR. 

This work was one of Cicero's earlier treatises, though one of thosewhich was most admired by his contemporaries, and one of which hehimself was most proud. It was composed 54 B. C. It was originally intwo books: then it was altered and enlarged into nine, and finallyreduced to six. With the exception of the dream of Scipio, in the lastbook, the whole treatise was lost till the year 1822, when thelibrarian of the Vatican discovered a portion of them among thepalimpsests in that library. What he discovered is translated here; butit is in a most imperfect and mutilated state. 

The form selected was that of a dialogue, in imitation of those ofPlato; and the several conferences were supposed to have taken placeduring the Latin holidays, 129 B. C. , in the consulship of CaiusSempronius, Tuditanus, and Marcus Aquilius. The speakers are ScipioAfricanus the younger, in whose garden the scene is laid; Caius Lælius;Lucius Furius Philus; Marcus Manilius; Spurius Mummius, the brother ofthe taker of Corinth, a Stoic; Quintus Ælius Tubero, a nephew ofAfricanus; Publius Rutilius Rufus; Quintus Mucius Scævola, the tutor ofCicero; and Caius Fannius, who was absent, however, on the second dayof the conference. 

In the first book, the first thirty-three pages are wanting, and thereare chasms amounting to thirty-eight pages more. In this book Scipioasserts the superiority of an active over a speculative career; andafter analyzing and comparing the monarchical, aristocratic, anddemocratic forms of government, gives a preference to the first;although his idea of a perfect constitution would be one compounded ofthree kinds in due proportion. 

There are a few chasms in the earlier part of the second book, and thelatter part of it is wholly lost. In it Scipio was led on to give anaccount of the rise and progress of the Roman Constitution, from whichhe passed on to the examination of the great moral obligations whichare the foundations of all political union. 

Of the remaining books we have only a few disjointed fragments, withthe exception, as has been before mentioned, of the dream of Scipio inthe sixth. 

 * * * * *

INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST BOOK, BY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR. 

 Cicero introduces his subject by showing that men were not born for the mere abstract study of philosophy, but that the study of philosophic truth should always be made as practical as possible, and applicable to the great interests of philanthropy and patriotism. Cicero endeavors to show the benefit of mingling the contemplative or philosophic with the political and active life, according to that maxim of Plato--"Happy is the nation whose philosophers are kings, and whose kings are philosophers. "

 This kind of introduction was the more necessary because many of the ancient philosophers, too warmly attached to transcendental metaphysics and sequestered speculations, had affirmed that true philosophers ought not to interest themselves in the management of public affairs. Thus, as M. Villemain observes, it was a maxim of the Epicureans, "Sapiens ne accedat ad rempublicam" (Let no wise man meddle in politics). The Pythagoreans had enforced the same principle with more gravity. Aristotle examines the question on both sides, and concludes in favor of active life. Among Aristotle's disciples, a writer, singularly elegant and pure, had maintained the pre-eminence of the contemplative life over the political or active one, in a work which Cicero cites with admiration, and to which he seems to have applied for relief whenever he felt harassed and discouraged in public business. But here this great man was interested by the subject he discusses, and by the whole course of his experience and conduct, to refute the dogmas of that pusillanimous sophistry and selfish indulgence by bringing forward the most glorious examples and achievements of patriotism. In this strain he had doubtless commenced his exordium, and in this strain we find him continuing it at the point in which the palimpsest becomes legible. He then proceeds to introduce his illustrious interlocutors, and leads them at first to discourse on the astronomical laws that regulate the revolutions of our planet. From this, by a very graceful and beautiful transition, he passes on to the consideration of the best forms of political constitutions that had prevailed in different nations, and those modes of government which had produced the greatest benefits in the commonwealths of antiquity. 

 This first book is, in fact, a splendid epitome of the political science of the age of Cicero, and probably the most eloquent plea in favor of mixed monarchy to be found in all literature. 

 * * * * *

BOOK I. 

I. [Without the virtue of patriotism], neither Caius Duilius, nor AulusAtilius, [293] nor Lucius Metellus, could have delivered Rome by theircourage from the terror of Carthage; nor could the two Scipios, whenthe fire of the second Punic War was kindled, have quenched it in theirblood; nor, when it revived in greater force, could either QuintusMaximus[294] have enervated it, or Marcus Marcellus have crushed it;nor, when it was repulsed from the gates of our own city, would Scipiohave confined it within the walls of our enemies. 

But Cato, at first a new and unknown man, whom all we who aspire to thesame honors consider as a pattern to lead us on to industry and virtue, was undoubtedly at liberty to enjoy his repose at Tusculum, a mostsalubrious and convenient retreat. But he, mad as some people thinkhim, though no necessity compelled him, preferred being tossed aboutamidst the tempestuous waves of politics, even till extreme old age, toliving with all imaginable luxury in that tranquillity and relaxation. I omit innumerable men who have separately devoted themselves to theprotection of our Commonwealth; and those whose lives are within thememory of the present generation I will not mention, lest any oneshould complain that I had invidiously forgotten himself or some one ofhis family. This only I insist on--that so great is the necessity ofthis virtue which nature has implanted in man, and so great is thedesire to defend the common safety of our country, that its energy hascontinually overcome all the blandishments of pleasure and repose. 

II. Nor is it sufficient to possess this virtue as if it were some kindof art, unless we put it in practice. An art, indeed, though notexercised, may still be retained in knowledge; but virtue consistswholly in its proper use and action. Now, the noblest use of virtue isthe government of the Commonwealth, and the carrying-out in realaction, not in words only, of all those identical theories which thosephilosophers discuss at every corner. For nothing is spoken byphilosophers, so far as they speak correctly and honorably, which hasnot been discovered and confirmed by those persons who have been thefounders of the laws of states. For whence comes piety, or from whomhas religion been derived? Whence comes law, either that of nations, orthat which is called the civil law? Whence comes justice, faith, equity? Whence modesty, continence, the horror of baseness, the desireof praise and renown? Whence fortitude in labors and perils? Doubtless, from those who have instilled some of these moral principles into menby education, and confirmed others by custom, and sanctioned others bylaws. 

Moreover, it is reported of Xenocrates, one of the sublimestphilosophers, that when some one asked him what his disciples learned, he replied, "To do that of their own accord which they might becompelled to do by law. " That citizen, therefore, who obliges all mento those virtuous actions, by the authority of laws and penalties, towhich the philosophers can scarcely persuade a few by the force oftheir eloquence, is certainly to be preferred to the sagest of thedoctors who spend their lives in such discussions. For which of theirexquisite orations is so admirable as to be entitled to be preferred toa well-constituted government, public justice, and good customs?Certainly, just as I think that magnificent and imperious cities (asEnnius says) are superior to castles and villages, so I imagine thatthose who regulate such cities by their counsel and authority are farpreferable, with respect to real wisdom, to men who are unacquaintedwith any kind of political knowledge. And since we are stronglyprompted to augment the prosperity of the human race, and since we doendeavor by our counsels and exertions to render the life of man saferand wealthier, and since we are incited to this blessing by the spur ofnature herself, let us hold on that course which has always beenpursued by all the best men, and not listen for a moment to the signalsof those who sound a retreat so loudly that they sometimes call backeven those who have made considerable progress. 

III. These reasons, so certain and so evident, are opposed by thosewho, on the other side, argue that the labors which must necessarily besustained in maintaining the Commonwealth form but a slight impedimentto the vigilant and industrious, and are only a contemptible obstaclein such important affairs, and even in common studies, offices, andemployments. They add the peril of life, that base fear of death, whichhas ever been opposed by brave men, to whom it appears far moremiserable to die by the decay of nature and old age than to be allowedan opportunity of gallantly sacrificing that life for their countrywhich must otherwise be yielded up to nature. 

On this point, however, our antagonists esteem themselves copious andeloquent when they collect all the calamities of heroic men, and theinjuries inflicted on them by their ungrateful countrymen. For on thissubject they bring forward those notable examples among the Greeks; andtell us that Miltiades, the vanquisher and conqueror of the Persians, before even those wounds were healed which he had received in that mostglorious victory, wasted away in the chains of his fellow-citizens thatlife which had been preserved from the weapons of the enemy. They citeThemistocles, expelled and proscribed by the country which he hadrescued, and forced to flee, not to the Grecian ports which he hadpreserved, but to the bosom of the barbarous power which he haddefeated. There is, indeed, no deficiency of examples to illustrate thelevity and cruelty of the Athenians to their noblest citizens--exampleswhich, originating and multiplying among them, are said at differenttimes to have abounded in our own most august empire. For we are told:of the exile of Camillus, the disgrace of Ahala, the unpopularity ofNasica, the expulsion of Lænas, [295] the condemnation of Opimius, theflight of Metellus, the cruel destruction of Caius Marius, the massacreof our chieftains, and the many atrocious crimes which followed. My ownhistory is by no means free from such calamities; and I imagine thatwhen they recollect that by my counsel and perils they were preservedin life and liberty, they are led by that consideration to bewail mymisfortunes more deeply and affectionately. But I cannot tell why thosewho sail over the seas for the sake of knowledge and experience [shouldwonder at seeing still greater hazards braved in the service of theCommonwealth]. 

IV. [Since], on my quitting the consulship, I swore in the assembly ofthe Roman people, who re-echoed my words, that I had saved theCommonwealth, I console myself with this remembrance for all my cares, troubles, and injuries. Although my misfortune had more of honor thanmisfortune, and more of glory than disaster; and I derive greaterpleasure from the regrets of good men than sorrow from the exultationof the worthless. But even if it had happened otherwise, how could Ihave complained, as nothing befell me which was either unforeseen, ormore painful than I expected, as a return for my illustrious actions?For I was one who, though it was in my power to reap more profit fromleisure than most men, on account of the diversified sweetness of mystudies, in which I had lived from boyhood--or, if any public calamityhad happened, to have borne no more than an equal share with the restof my countrymen in the misfortune--I nevertheless did not hesitate tooppose myself to the most formidable tempests and torrents of sedition, for the sake of saving my countrymen, and at my own proper danger tosecure the common safety of all the rest. For our country did not begetand educate us with the expectation of receiving no support, as I maycall it, from us; nor for the purpose of consulting nothing but ourconvenience, to supply us with a secure refuge for idleness and atranquil spot for rest; but rather with a view of turning to her ownadvantage the nobler portion of our genius, heart, and counsel; givingus back for our private service only what she can spare from the publicinterests. 

V. Those apologies, therefore, in which men take refuge as an excusefor their devoting themselves with more plausibility to mere inactivitydo certainly not deserve to be listened to; when, for instance, theytell us that those who meddle with public affairs are generallygood-for-nothing men, with whom it is discreditable to be compared, andmiserable and dangerous to contend, especially when the multitude is inan excited state. On which account it is not the part of a wise man totake the reins, since he cannot restrain the insane and unregulatedmovements of the common people. Nor is it becoming to a man of liberalbirth, say they, thus to contend with such vile and unrefinedantagonists, or to subject one's self to the lashings of contumely, orto put one's self in the way of injuries which ought not to be borne bya wise man. As if to a virtuous, brave, and magnanimous man there couldbe a juster reason for seeking the government than this--to avoid beingsubjected to worthless men, and to prevent the Commonwealth from beingtorn to pieces by them; when, even if they were then desirous to saveher, they would not have the power. 

VI. But this restriction who can approve, which would interdict thewise man from taking any share in the government beyond such as theoccasion and necessity may compel him to? As if any greater necessitycould possibly happen to any man than happened to me. In which, howcould I have acted if I had not been consul at the time? and how couldI have been a consul unless I had maintained that course of life frommy childhood which raised me from the order of knights, in which I wasborn, to the very highest station? You cannot produce _extempore_, andjust when you please, the power of assisting a commonwealth, althoughit may be severely pressed by dangers, unless you have attained theposition which enables you legally to do so. And what most surprises mein the discourses of learned men, is to hear those persons who confessthemselves incapable of steering the vessel of the State in smooth seas(which, indeed, they never learned, and never cared to know) professthemselves ready to assume the helm amidst the fiercest tempests. Forthose men are accustomed to say openly, and indeed to boast greatly, that they have never learned, and have never taken the least pains toexplain, the principles of either establishing or maintaining acommonwealth; and they look on this practical science as one whichbelongs not to men of learning and wisdom, but to those who have madeit their especial study. How, then, can it be reasonable for such mento promise their assistance to the State, when they shall be compelledto it by necessity, while they are ignorant how to govern the republicwhen no necessity presses upon it, which is a much more easy task?Indeed, though it were true that the wise man loves not to thrusthimself of his own accord into the administration of public affairs, but that if circumstances oblige him to it, then he does not refuse theoffice, yet I think that this science of civil legislation should in nowise be neglected by the philosopher, because all resources ought to beready to his hand, which he knows not how soon he may be called on touse. 

VII. I have spoken thus at large for this reason, because in this workI have proposed to myself and undertaken a discussion on the governmentof a state; and in order to render it useful, I was bound, in the firstplace, to do away with this pusillanimous hesitation to mingle inpublic affairs. If there be any, therefore, who are too much influencedby the authority of the philosophers, let them consider the subject fora moment, and be guided by the opinions of those men whose authorityand credit are greatest among learned men; whom I look upon, thoughsome of them have not personally governed any state, as men who havenevertheless discharged a kind of office in the republic, inasmuch asthey have made many investigations into, and left many writingsconcerning, state affairs. As to those whom the Greeks entitle theSeven Wise Men, I find that they almost all lived in the middle ofpublic business. Nor, indeed, is there anything in which human virtuecan more closely resemble the divine powers than in establishing newstates, or in preserving those already established. 

VIII. And concerning these affairs, since it has been our good fortuneto achieve something worthy of memorial in the government of ourcountry, and also to have acquired some facility of explaining thepowers and resources of politics, we can treat of this subject with theweight of personal experience and the habit of instruction andillustration. Whereas before us many have been skilful in theory, though no exploits of theirs are recorded; and many others have beenmen of consideration in action, but unfamiliar with the arts ofexposition. Nor, indeed, is it at all our intention to establish a newand self-invented system of government; but our purpose is rather torecall to memory a discussion of the most illustrious men of their agein our Commonwealth, which you and I, in our youth, when at Smyrna, heard mentioned by Publius Rutilius Rufus, who reported to us aconference of many days in which, in my opinion, there was nothingomitted that could throw light on political affairs. 

IX. For when, in the year of the consulship of Tuditanus and Aquilius, Scipio Africanus, the son of Paulus Æmilius, formed the project ofspending the Latin holidays at his country-seat, where his mostintimate friends had promised him frequent visits during this season ofrelaxation, on the first morning of the festival, his nephew, QuintusTubero, made his appearance; and when Scipio had greeted him heartilyand embraced him--How is it, my dear Tubero, said he, that I see you soearly? For these holidays must afford you a capital opportunity ofpursuing your favorite studies. Ah! replied Tubero, I can study mybooks at any time, for they are always disengaged; but it is a greatprivilege, my Scipio, to find you at leisure, especially in thisrestless period of public affairs. You certainly have found me so, saidScipio, but, to speak truth, I am rather relaxing from business thanfrom study. Nay, said Tubero, you must try to relax from your studiestoo, for here are several of us, as we have appointed, all ready, if itsuits your convenience, to aid you in getting through this leisure timeof yours. I am very willing to consent, answered Scipio, and we may beable to compare notes respecting the several topics that interest us. 

X. Be it so, said Tubero; and since you invite me to discussion, andpresent the opportunity, let us first examine, before any one elsearrives, what can be the nature of the parhelion, or double sun, whichwas mentioned in the senate. Those that affirm they witnessed thisprodigy are neither few nor unworthy of credit, so that there is morereason for investigation than incredulity. [296]

Ah! said Scipio, I wish we had our friend Panætius with us, who is fondof investigating all things of this kind, but especially all celestialphenomena. As for my opinion, Tubero, for I always tell you just what Ithink, I hardly agree in these subjects with that friend of mine, since, respecting things of which we can scarcely form a conjecture asto their character, he is as positive as if he had seen them with hisown eyes and felt them with his own hands. And I cannot but the moreadmire the wisdom of Socrates, who discarded all anxiety respectingthings of this kind, and affirmed that these inquiries concerning thesecrets of nature were either above the efforts of human reason, orwere absolutely of no consequence at all to human life. 

But, then, my Africanus, replied Tubero, of what credit is thetradition which states that Socrates rejected all these physicalinvestigations, and confined his whole attention to men and manners?For, with respect to him what better authority can we cite than Plato?in many passages of whose works Socrates speaks in such a manner thateven when he is discussing morals, and virtues, and even public affairsand politics, he endeavors to interweave, after the fashion ofPythagoras, the doctrines of arithmetic, geometry, and harmonicproportions with them. 

That is true, replied Scipio; but you are aware, I believe, that Plato, after the death of Socrates, was induced to visit Egypt by his love ofscience, and that after that he proceeded to Italy and Sicily, from hisdesire of understanding the Pythagorean dogmas; that he conversed muchwith Archytas of Tarentum and Timæus of Locris; that he collected theworks of Philolaus; and that, finding in these places the renown ofPythagoras flourishing, he addicted himself exceedingly to thedisciples of Pythagoras, and their studies; therefore, as he lovedSocrates with his whole heart, and wished to attribute all greatdiscoveries to him, he interwove the Socratic elegance and subtlety ofeloquence with somewhat of the obscurity of Pythagoras, and with thatnotorious gravity of his diversified arts. 

XI. When Scipio had spoken thus, he suddenly saw Lucius Furiusapproaching, and saluting him, and embracing him most affectionately, he gave him a seat on his own couch. And as soon as Publius Rutilius, the worthy reporter of the conference to us, had arrived, when we hadsaluted him, he placed him by the side of Tubero. Then said Furius, What is it that you are about? Has our entrance at all interrupted anyconversation of yours? By no means, said Scipio, for you yourself tooare in the habit of investigating carefully the subject which Tuberowas a little before proposing to examine; and our friend Rutilius, evenunder the walls of Numantia, was in the habit at times of conversingwith me on questions of the same kind. What, then, was the subject ofyour discussion? said Philus. We were talking, said Scipio, of thedouble suns that recently appeared, and I wish, Philus, to hear whatyou think of them. 

XII. Just as he was speaking, a boy announced that Lælius was coming tocall on him, and that he had already left his house. Then Scipio, putting on his sandals and robes, immediately went forth from hischamber, and when he had walked a little time in the portico, he metLælius, and welcomed him and those that accompanied him, namely, Spurius Mummius, to whom he was greatly attached, and C. Fannius andQuintus Scævola, sons-in-law of Lælius, two very intelligent young men, and now of the quæstorian age. [297]

When he had saluted them all, he returned through the portico, placingLælius in the middle; for there was in their friendship a sort of lawof reciprocal courtesy, so that in the camp Lælius paid Scipio almostdivine honors, on account of his eminent renown in war and in privatelife; in his turn Scipio reverenced Lælius, even as a father, becausehe was older than himself. 

Then after they had exchanged a few words, as they walked up and down, Scipio, to whom their visit was extremely welcome and agreeable, wishedto assemble them in a sunny corner of the gardens, because it was stillwinter; and when they had agreed to this, there came in another friend, a learned man, much beloved and esteemed by all of them, M. Manilius, who, after having been most warmly welcomed by Scipio and the rest, seated himself next to Lælius. 

XIII. Then Philus, commencing the conversation, said: It does notappear to me that the presence of our new guests need alter the subjectof our discussion, but only that it should induce us to treat it morephilosophically, and in a manner more worthy of our increased audience. What do you allude to? said Lælius; or what was the discussion we brokein upon? Scipio was asking me, replied Philus, what I thought of theparhelion, or mock sun, whose recent apparition was so stronglyattested. 

_Lælius. _ Do you say then, my Philus, that we have sufficientlyexamined those questions which concern our own houses and theCommonwealth, that we begin to investigate the celestial mysteries?

And Philus replied: Do you think, then, that it does not concern ourhouses to know what happens in that vast home which is not included inwalls of human fabrication, but which embraces the entire universe--ahome which the Gods share with us, as the common country of allintelligent beings? Especially when, if we are ignorant of thesethings, there are also many great practical truths which result fromthem, and which bear directly on the welfare of our race, of which wemust be also ignorant. And here I can speak for myself, as well as foryou, Lælius, and all men who are ambitious of wisdom, that theknowledge and consideration of the facts of nature are by themselvesvery delightful. 

_Lælius. _ I have no objection to the discussion, especially as it isholiday-time with us. But cannot we have the pleasure of hearing youresume it, or are we come too late?

_Philus_. We have not yet commenced the discussion, and since thequestion remains entire and unbroken, I shall have the greatestpleasure, my Lælius, in handing over the argument to you. 

_Lælius. _ No, I had much rather hear you, unless, indeed, Maniliusthinks himself able to compromise the suit between the two suns, thatthey may possess heaven as joint sovereigns without intruding on eachother's empire. 

Then Manilius said: Are you going, Lælius, to ridicule a science inwhich, in the first place, I myself excel; and, secondly, without whichno one can distinguish what is his own, and what is another's? But toreturn to the point. Let us now at present listen to Philus, who seemsto me to have started a greater question than any of those that haveengaged the attention of either Publius Mucius or myself. 

XIV. Then Philus said: I am not about to bring you anything new, oranything which has been thought over or discovered by me myself. But Irecollect that Caius Sulpicius Gallus, who was a man of profoundlearning, as you are aware, when this same thing was reported to havetaken place in his time, while he was staying in the house of MarcusMarcellus, who had been his colleague in the consulship, asked to see acelestial globe which Marcellus's grandfather had saved after thecapture of Syracuse from that magnificent and opulent city, withoutbringing to his own home any other memorial out of so great a booty;which I had often heard mentioned on account of the great fame ofArchimedes; but its appearance, however, did not seem to meparticularly striking. For that other is more elegant in form, and moregenerally known, which was made by the same Archimedes, and depositedby the same Marcellus in the Temple of Virtue at Rome. But as soon asGallus had begun to explain, in a most scientific manner, the principleof this machine, I felt that the Sicilian geometrician must havepossessed a genius superior to anything we usually conceive to belongto our nature. For Gallus assured us that that other solid and compactglobe was a very ancient invention, and that the first model had beenoriginally made by Thales of Miletus. That afterward Eudoxus of Cnidus, a disciple of Plato, had traced on its surface the stars that appear inthe sky, and that many years subsequently, borrowing from Eudoxus thisbeautiful design and representation, Aratus had illustrated it in hisverses, not by any science of astronomy, but by the ornament of poeticdescription. He added that the figure of the globe, which displayed themotions of the sun and moon, and the five planets, or wandering stars, could not be represented by the primitive solid globe; and that in thisthe invention of Archimedes was admirable, because he had calculatedhow a single revolution should maintain unequal and diversifiedprogressions in dissimilar motions. In fact, when Gallus moved thisglobe, we observed that the moon succeeded the sun by as many turns ofthe wheel in the machine as days in the heavens. From whence itresulted that the progress of the sun was marked as in the heavens, andthat the moon touched the point where she is obscured by the earth'sshadow at the instant the sun appears opposite. [298] * * *

XV. * * *[299] I had myself a great affection for this Gallus, and Iknow that he was very much beloved and esteemed by my father Paulus. Irecollect that when I was very young, when my father, as consul, commanded in Macedonia, and we were in the camp, our army was seizedwith a pious terror, because suddenly, in a clear night, the bright andfull moon became eclipsed. And Gallus, who was then our lieutenant, theyear before that in which he was elected consul, hesitated not, nextmorning, to state in the camp that it was no prodigy, and that thephenomenon which had then appeared would always appear at certainperiods, when the sun was so placed that he could not affect the moonwith his light. 

But do you mean, said Tubero, that he dared to speak thus to men almostentirely uneducated and ignorant?

_Scipio. _ He did, and with great * * * for his opinion was no result ofinsolent ostentation, nor was his language unbecoming the dignity of sowise a man: indeed, he performed a very noble action in thus freeinghis countrymen from the terrors of an idle superstition. 

XVI. And they relate that in a similar way, in the great war in whichthe Athenians and Lacedæmonians contended with such violent resentment, the famous Pericles, the first man of his country in credit, eloquence, and political genius, observing the Athenians overwhelmed with anexcessive alarm during an eclipse of the sun which caused a suddendarkness, told them, what he had learned in the school of Anaxagoras, that these phenomena necessarily happened at precise and regularperiods when the body of the moon was interposed between the sun andthe earth, and that if they happened not before every new moon, stillthey could not possibly happen except at the exact time of the newmoon. And when he had proved this truth by his reasonings, he freed thepeople from their alarms; for at that period the doctrine was new andunfamiliar that the sun was accustomed to be eclipsed by theinterposition of the moon, which fact they say that Thales of Miletuswas the first to discover. Afterward my friend Ennius appears to havebeen acquainted with the same theory, who, writing about 350[300] yearsafter the foundation of Rome, says, "In the nones of June the sun wascovered by the moon and night. " The calculations in the astronomicalart have attained such perfection that from that day, thus described tous by Ennius and recorded in the pontifical registers, the anterioreclipses of the sun have been computed as far back as the nones of Julyin the reign of Romulus, when that eclipse took place, in the obscurityof which it was affirmed that Virtue bore Romulus to heaven, in spiteof the perishable nature which carried him off by the common fate ofhumanity. 

XVII. Then said Tubero: Do not you think, Scipio, that thisastronomical science, which every day proves so useful, just nowappeared in a different light to you, [301] * * * which the rest maysee. Moreover, who can think anything in human affairs of brilliantimportance who has penetrated this starry empire of the gods? Or whocan think anything connected with mankind long who has learned toestimate the nature of eternity? or glorious who is aware of theinsignificance of the size of the earth, even in its whole extent, andespecially in the portion which men inhabit? And when we consider thatalmost imperceptible point which we ourselves occupy unknown to themajority of nations, can we still hope that our name and reputation canbe widely circulated? And then our estates and edifices, our cattle, and the enormous treasures of our gold and silver, can they be esteemedor denominated as desirable goods by him who observes their perishableprofit, and their contemptible use, and their uncertain domination, often falling into the possession of the very worst men? How happy, then, ought we to esteem that man who alone has it in his power, not bythe law of the Romans, but by the privilege of philosophers, to enjoyall things as his own; not by any civil bond, but by the common rightof nature, which denies that anything can really be possessed by anyone but him who understands its true nature and use; who reckons ourdictatorships and consulships rather in the rank of necessary officesthan desirable employments, and thinks they must be endured rather asacquittances of our debt to our country than sought for the sake ofemolument or glory--the man, in short, who can apply to himself thesentence which Cato tells us my ancestor Africanus loved to repeat, "that he was never so busy as when he did nothing, and never lesssolitary than when alone. "

For who can believe that Dionysius, when after every possible effort heravished from his fellow-citizens their liberty, had performed a noblerwork than Archimedes, when, without appearing to be doing anything, hemanufactured the globe which we have just been describing? Who does notsee that those men are in reality more solitary who, in the midst of acrowd, find no one with whom they can converse congenially than thosewho, without witnesses, hold communion with themselves, and enter intothe secret counsels of the sagest philosophers, while they delightthemselves in their writings and discoveries? And who would think anyone richer than the man who is in want of nothing which naturerequires; or more powerful than he who has attained all that she hasneed of; or happier than he who is free from all mental perturbation;or more secure in future than he who carries all his property inhimself, which is thus secured from shipwreck? And what power, whatmagistracy, what royalty, can be preferred to a wisdom which, lookingdown on all terrestrial objects as low and transitory things, incessantly directs its attention to eternal and immutable verities, and which is persuaded that though others are called men, none arereally so but those who are refined by the appropriate acts ofhumanity?

In this sense an expression of Plato or some other philosopher appearsto me exceedingly elegant, who, when a tempest had driven his ship onan unknown country and a desolate shore, during the alarms with whichtheir ignorance of the region inspired his companions, observed, theysay, geometrical figures traced in the sand, on which he immediatelytold them to be of good cheer, for he had observed the indications ofMan. A conjecture he deduced, not from the cultivation of the soilwhich he beheld, but from the symbols of science. For this reason, Tubero, learning and learned men, and these your favorite studies, havealways particularly pleased me. 

XVIII. Then Lælius replied: I cannot venture, Scipio, to answer yourarguments, or to [maintain the discussion either against] you, Philus, or Manilius. [302] * * *

We had a friend in Tubero's father's family, who in these respects mayserve him as a model. 

 Sextus so wise, and ever on his guard. 

Wise and cautious indeed he was, as Ennius justly describes him--notbecause he searched for what he could never find, but because he knewhow to answer those who prayed for deliverance from cares anddifficulties. It is he who, reasoning against the astronomical studiesof Gallus, used frequently to repeat these words of Achilles in theIphigenia[303]:

 They note the astrologic signs of heaven, Whene'er the goats or scorpions of great Jove, Or other monstrous names of brutal forms, Rise in the zodiac; but not one regards The sensible facts of earth, on which we tread, While gazing on the starry prodigies. 

He used, however, to say (and I have often listened to him withpleasure) that for his part he thought that Zethus, in the piece ofPacuvius, was too inimical to learning. He much preferred theNeoptolemus of Ennius, who professes himself desirous of philosophizingonly in moderation; for that he did not think it right to be whollydevoted to it. But though the studies of the Greeks have so many charmsfor you, there are others, perhaps, nobler and more extensive, which wemay be better able to apply to the service of real life, and even topolitical affairs. As to these abstract sciences, their utility, ifthey possess any, lies principally in exciting and stimulating theabilities of youth, so that they more easily acquire more importantaccomplishments. 

XIX. Then Tubero said: I do not mean to disagree with you, Lælius; but, pray, what do you call more important studies?

_Lælius. _ I will tell you frankly, though perhaps you will thinklightly of my opinion, since you appeared so eager in interrogatingScipio respecting the celestial phenomena; but I happen to think thatthose things which are every day before our eyes are more particularlydeserving of our attention. Why should the child of Paulus Æmilius, thenephew of Æmilius, the descendant of such a noble family and soglorious a republic, inquire how there can be two suns in heaven, andnot ask how there can be two senates in one Commonwealth, and, as itwere, two distinct peoples? For, as you see, the death of TiberiusGracchus, and the whole system of his tribuneship, has divided onepeople into two parties. But the slanderers and the enemies of Scipio, encouraged by P. Crassus and Appius Claudius, maintained, after thedeath of these two chiefs, a division of nearly half the senate, underthe influence of Metellus and Mucius. Nor would they permit theman[304] who alone could have been of service to help us out of ourdifficulties during the movement of the Latins and their allies towardsrebellion, violating all our treaties in the presence of factioustriumvirs, and creating every day some fresh intrigue, to thedisturbance of the worthier and wealthier citizens. This is the reason, young men, if you will listen to me, why you should regard this new sunwith less alarm; for, whether it does exist, or whether it does notexist, it is, as you see, quite harmless to us. As to the manner of itsexistence, we can know little or nothing; and even if we obtained themost perfect understanding of it, this knowledge would make us butlittle wiser or happier. But that there should exist a united peopleand a united senate is a thing which actually may be brought about, andit will be a great evil if it is not; and that it does not exist atpresent we are aware; and we see that if it can be effected, our liveswill be both better and happier. 

XX. Then Mucius said: What, then, do you consider, my Lælius, should beour best arguments in endeavoring to bring about the object of yourwishes?

_Lælius. _ Those sciences and arts which teach us how we may be mostuseful to the State; for I consider that the most glorious office ofwisdom, and the noblest proof and business of virtue. In order, therefore, that we may consecrate these holidays as much as possible toconversations which may be profitable to the Commonwealth, let us begScipio to explain to us what in his estimation appears to be the bestform of government. Then let us pass on to other points, the knowledgeof which may lead us, as I hope, to sound political views, and unfoldthe causes of the dangers which now threaten us. 

XXI. When Philus, Manilius, and Mummius had all expressed their greatapprobation of this idea[305] * * * I have ventured [to open ourdiscussion] in this way, not only because it is but just that on Statepolitics the chief man in the State should be the principal speaker, but also because I recollect that you, Scipio, were formerly very muchin the habit of conversing with Panætius and Polybius, two Greeks, exceedingly learned in political questions, and that you are master ofmany arguments by which you prove that by far the best condition ofgovernment is that which our ancestors have handed down to us. And asyou, therefore, are familiar with this subject, if you will explain tous your views respecting the general principles of a state (I speak formy friends as well as myself), we shall feel exceedingly obliged toyou. 

XXII. Then Scipio said: I must acknowledge that there is no subject ofmeditation to which my mind naturally turns with more ardor andintensity than this very one which Lælius has proposed to us. And, indeed, as I see that in every profession, every artist who woulddistinguish himself, thinks of, and aims at, and labors for no otherobject but that of attaining perfection in his art, should not I, whosemain business, according to the example of my father and my ancestors, is the advancement and right administration of government, beconfessing myself more indolent than any common mechanic if I were tobestow on this noblest of sciences less attention and labor than theydevote to their insignificant trades? However, I am neither entirelysatisfied with the decisions which the greatest and wisest men ofGreece have left us; nor, on the other hand, do I venture to prefer myown opinions to theirs. Therefore, I must request you not to considerme either entirely ignorant of the Grecian literature, nor yetdisposed, especially in political questions, to yield it thepre-eminence over our own; but rather to regard me as a true-bornRoman, not illiberally instructed by the care of my father, andinflamed with the desire of knowledge, even from my boyhood, but stilleven more familiar with domestic precepts and practices than theliterature of books. 

XXIII. On this Philus said: I have no doubt, my Scipio, that no one issuperior to you in natural genius, and that you are very far superiorto every one in the practical experience of national government and ofimportant business. We are also acquainted with the course which yourstudies have at all times taken; and if, as you say, you have given somuch attention to this science and art of politics, we cannot be toomuch obliged to Lælius for introducing the subject: for I trust thatwhat we shall hear from you will be far more useful and available thanall the writings put together which the Greeks have written for us. 

Then Scipio replied: You are raising a very high expectation of mydiscourse, such as is a most oppressive burden to a man who is requiredto discuss grave subjects. 

And Philus said: Although that may be a difficulty, my Scipio, stillyou will be sure to conquer it, as you always do; nor is there anydanger of eloquence failing you, when you begin to speak on the affairsof a commonwealth. 

XXIV. Then Scipio proceeded: I will do what you wish, as far as I can;and I shall enter into the discussion under favor of that rule which, Ithink, should be adopted by all persons in disputations of this kind, if they wish to avoid being misunderstood; namely, that when men haveagreed respecting the proper name of the matter under discussion, itshould be stated what that name exactly means, and what it legitimatelyincludes. And when that point is settled, then it is fit to enter onthe discussion; for it will never be possible to arrive at anunderstanding of what the character of the subject of the discussionis, unless one first understands exactly what it is. Since, then, ourinvestigations relate to a commonwealth, we must first examine whatthis name properly signifies. 

And when Lælius had intimated his approbation of this course, Scipiocontinued:

I shall not adopt, said he, in so clear and simple a manner that systemof discussion which goes back to first principles; as learned men oftendo in this sort of discussion, so as to go back to the first meeting ofmale and female, and then to the first birth and formation of the firstfamily, and define over and over again what there is in words, and inhow many manners each thing is stated. For, as I am speaking to men ofprudence, who have acted with the greatest glory in the Commonwealth, both in peace and war, I will take care not to allow the subject of thediscussion itself to be clearer than my explanation of it. Nor have Iundertaken this task with the design of examining all its minuterpoints, like a school-master; nor will I promise you in the followingdiscourse not to omit any single particular. 

Then Lælius said: For my part, I am impatient for exactly that kind ofdisquisition which you promise us. 

XXV. Well, then, said Africanus, a commonwealth is a constitution ofthe entire people. But the people is not every association of men, however congregated, but the association of the entire number, boundtogether by the compact of justice, and the communication of utility. The first cause of this association is not so much the weakness of manas a certain spirit of congregation which naturally belongs to him. Forthe human race is not a race of isolated individuals, wandering andsolitary; but it is so constituted that even in the affluence of allthings [and without any need of reciprocal assistance, it spontaneouslyseeks society]. 

XXVI. [It is necessary to presuppose] these original seeds, as it were, since we cannot discover any primary establishment of the othervirtues, or even of a commonwealth itself. These unions, then, formedby the principle which I have mentioned, established their headquartersoriginally in certain central positions, for the convenience of thewhole population; and having fortified them by natural and artificialmeans, they called this collection of houses a city or town, distinguished by temples and public squares. Every people, therefore, which consists of such an association of the entire multitude as I havedescribed, every city which consists of an assemblage of the people, and every commonwealth which embraces every member of theseassociations, must be regulated by a certain authority, in order to bepermanent. 

This intelligent authority should always refer itself to that grandfirst principle which established the Commonwealth. It must bedeposited in the hands of one supreme person, or intrusted to theadministration of certain delegated rulers, or undertaken by the wholemultitude. When the direction of all depends on one person, we callthis individual a king, and this form of political constitution akingdom. When it is in the power of privileged delegates, the State issaid to be ruled by an aristocracy; and when the people are all in all, they call it a democracy, or popular constitution. And if the tie ofsocial affection, which originally united men in political associationsfor the sake of public interest, maintains its force, each of theseforms of government is, I will not say perfect, nor, in my opinion, essentially good, but tolerable, and such that one may accidentally bebetter than another: either a just and wise king, or a selection of themost eminent citizens, or even the populace itself (though this is theleast commendable form), may, if there be no interference of crime andcupidity, form a constitution sufficiently secure. 

XXVII. But in a monarchy the other members of the State are often toomuch deprived of public counsel and jurisdiction; and under the rule ofan aristocracy the multitude can hardly possess its due share ofliberty, since it is allowed no share in the public deliberation, andno power. And when all things are carried by a democracy, although itbe just and moderate, yet its very equality is a culpable levelling, inasmuch as it allows no gradations of rank. Therefore, even if Cyrus, the King of the Persians, was a most righteous and wise monarch, Ishould still think that the interest of the people (for this is, as Ihave said before, the same as the Commonwealth) could not be veryeffectually promoted when all things depended on the beck and nod ofone individual. And though at present the people of Marseilles, ourclients, are governed with the greatest justice by elected magistratesof the highest rank, still there is always in this condition of thepeople a certain appearance of servitude; and when the Athenians, at acertain period, having demolished their Areopagus, conducted all publicaffairs by the acts and decrees of the democracy alone, their State, asit no longer contained a distinct gradation of ranks, was no longerable to retain its original fair appearance. 

XXVIII. I have reasoned thus on the three forms of government, notlooking on them in their disorganized and confused conditions, but intheir proper and regular administration. These three particular forms, however, contained in themselves, from the first, the faults anddefects I have mentioned; but they have also other dangerous vices, forthere is not one of these three forms of government which has not aprecipitous and slippery passage down to some proximate abuse. For, after thinking of that endurable, or, as you will have it, most amiableking, Cyrus--to name him in preference to any one else--then, toproduce a change in our minds, we behold the barbarous Phalaris, thatmodel of tyranny, to which the monarchical authority is easily abusedby a facile and natural inclination. And, in like manner, along-side ofthe wise aristocracy of Marseilles, we might exhibit the oligarchicalfaction of the thirty tyrants which once existed at Athens. And, not toseek for other instances, among the same Athenians, we can show youthat when unlimited power was cast into the hands of the people, itinflamed the fury of the multitude, and aggravated that universallicense which ruined their State. [306] * * *

XXIX. The worst condition of things sometimes results from a confusionof those factious tyrannies into which kings, aristocrats, anddemocrats are apt to degenerate. For thus, from these diverse elements, there occasionally arises (as I have said before) a new kind ofgovernment. And wonderful indeed are the revolutions and periodicalreturns in natural constitutions of such alternations and vicissitudes, which it is the part of the wise politician to investigate with theclosest attention. But to calculate their approach, and to join to thisforesight the skill which moderates the course of events, and retainsin a steady hand the reins of that authority which safely conducts thepeople through all the dangers to which they expose themselves, is thework of a most illustrious citizen, and of almost divine genius. 

There is a fourth kind of government, therefore, which, in my opinion, is preferable to all these: it is that mixed and moderate governmentwhich is composed of the three particular forms which I have alreadynoticed. 

XXX. _Lælius. _ I am not ignorant, Scipio, that such is your opinion, for I have often heard you say so. But I do not the less desire, if itis not giving you too much trouble, to hear which you consider the bestof these three forms of commonwealths. For it may be of some use inconsidering[307] * * *

XXXI. * * * And each commonwealth corresponds to the nature and will ofhim who governs it. Therefore, in no other constitution than that inwhich the people exercise sovereign power has liberty any sure abode, than which there certainly is no more desirable blessing. And if it benot equally established for every one, it is not even liberty at all. And how can there be this character of equality, I do not say under amonarchy, where slavery is least disguised or doubtful, but even inthose constitutions in which the people are free indeed in words, forthey give their suffrages, they elect officers, they are canvassed andsolicited for magistracies; but yet they only grant those things whichthey are obliged to grant whether they will or not, and which are notreally in their free power, though others ask them for them? For theyare not themselves admitted to the government, to the exercise ofpublic authority, or to offices of select judges, which are permittedto those only of ancient families and large fortunes. But in a freepeople, as among the Rhodians and Athenians, there is no citizenwho[308] * * *

XXXII. * * * No sooner is one man, or several, elevated by wealth andpower, than they say that * * * arise from their pride and arrogance, when the idle and the timid give way, and bow down to the insolence ofriches. But if the people knew how to maintain its rights, then theysay that nothing could be more glorious and prosperous than democracy;inasmuch as they themselves would be the sovereign dispensers of laws, judgments, war, peace, public treaties, and, finally, of the fortuneand life of each individual citizen; and this condition of things isthe only one which, in their opinion, can be really called acommonwealth, that is to say, a constitution of the people. It is onthis principle that, according to them, a people often vindicates itsliberty from the domination of kings and nobles; while, on the otherhand, kings are not sought for among free peoples, nor are the powerand wealth of aristocracies. They deny, moreover, that it is fair toreject this general constitution of freemen, on account of the vices ofthe unbridled populace; but that if the people be united and inclined, and directs all its efforts to the safety and freedom of the community, nothing can be stronger or more unchangeable; and they assert that thisnecessary union is easily obtained in a republic so constituted thatthe good of all classes is the same; while the conflicting intereststhat prevail in other constitutions inevitably produce dissensions;therefore, say they, when the senate had the ascendency, the republichad no stability; and when kings possess the power, this blessing isstill more rare, since, as Ennius expresses it, In kingdoms there's no faith, and little love. 

Wherefore, since the law is the bond of civil society, and the justiceof the law equal, by what rule can the association of citizens be heldtogether, if the condition of the citizens be not equal? For if thefortunes of men cannot be reduced to this equality--if genius cannot beequally the property of all--rights, at least, should be equal amongthose who are citizens of the same republic. For what is a republic butan association of rights?[309] * * *

XXXIII. But as to the other political constitutions, these democraticaladvocates do not think they are worthy of being distinguished by thename which they claim. For why, say they, should we apply the name ofking, the title of Jupiter the Beneficent, and not rather the title oftyrant, to a man ambitious of sole authority and power, lording it overa degraded multitude? For a tyrant may be as merciful as a king may beoppressive; so that the whole difference to the people is, whether theyserve an indulgent master or a cruel one, since serve some one theymust. But how could Sparta, at the period of the boasted superiority ofher political institution, obtain a constant enjoyment of just andvirtuous kings, when they necessarily received an hereditary monarch, good, bad, or indifferent, because he happened to be of the bloodroyal? As to aristocrats, Who will endure, say they, that men shoulddistinguish themselves by such a title, and that not by the voice ofthe people, but by their own votes? For how is such a one judged to bebest either in learning, sciences, or arts?[310] * * *

XXXIV. * * * If it does so by hap-hazard, it will be as easily upset asa vessel if the pilot were chosen by lot from among the passengers. Butif a people, being free, chooses those to whom it can trustitself--and, if it desires its own preservation, it will always choosethe noblest--then certainly it is in the counsels of the aristocracythat the safety of the State consists, especially as nature has notonly appointed that these superior men should excel the inferior sortin high virtue and courage, but has inspired the people also with thedesire of obedience towards these, their natural lords. But they saythis aristocratical State is destroyed by the depraved opinions of men, who, through ignorance of virtue (which, as it belongs to few, can bediscerned and appreciated by few), imagine that not only rich andpowerful men, but also those who are nobly born, are necessarily thebest. And so when, through this popular error, the riches, and not thevirtue, of a few men has taken possession of the State, these chiefsobstinately retain the title of nobles, though they want the essence ofnobility. For riches, fame, and power, without wisdom and a just methodof regulating ourselves and commanding others, are full of discreditand insolent arrogance; nor is there any kind of government moredeformed than that in which the wealthiest are regarded as the noblest. 

But when virtue governs the Commonwealth, what can be more glorious?When he who commands the rest is himself enslaved by no lust orpassion; when he himself exhibits all the virtues to which he incitesand educates the citizens; when he imposes no law on the people whichhe does not himself observe, but presents his life as a living law tohis fellow-countrymen; if a single individual could thus suffice forall, there would be no need of more; and if the community could find achief ruler thus worthy of all their suffrages, none would requireelected magistrates. 

It was the difficulty of forming plans which transferred the governmentfrom a king into the hands of many; and the error and temerity of thepeople likewise transferred it from the hands of the many into those ofthe few. Thus, between the weakness of the monarch and the rashness ofthe multitude, the aristocrats have occupied the middle place, thanwhich nothing can be better arranged; and while they superintend thepublic interest, the people necessarily enjoy the greatest possibleprosperity, being free from all care and anxiety, having intrustedtheir security to others, who ought sedulously to defend it, and notallow the people to suspect that their advantage is neglected by theirrulers. 

For as to that equality of rights which democracies so loudly boast of, it can never be maintained; for the people themselves, so dissolute andso unbridled, are always inclined to flatter a number of demagogues;and there is in them a very great partiality for certain men anddignities, so that their equality, so called, becomes most unfair andiniquitous. For as equal honor is given to the most noble and the mostinfamous, some of whom must exist in every State, then the equity whichthey eulogize becomes most inequitable--an evil which never can happenin those states which are governed by aristocracies. These reasonings, my Lælius, and some others of the same kind, are usually broughtforward by those that so highly extol this form of politicalconstitution. 

XXXV. Then Lælius said: But you have not told us, Scipio, which ofthese three forms of government you yourself most approve. 

_Scipio. _ You are right to shape your question, which of the three Imost approve, for there is not one of them which I approve at all byitself, since, as I told you, I prefer that government which is mixedand composed of all these forms, to any one of them taken separately. But if I must confine myself to one of these particular forms simplyand exclusively, I must confess I prefer the royal one, and praise thatas the first and best. In this, which I here choose to call theprimitive form of government, I find the title of father attached tothat of king, to express that he watches over the citizens as over hischildren, and endeavors rather to preserve them in freedom than reducethem to slavery. So that it is more advantageous for those who areinsignificant in property and capacity to be supported by the care ofone excellent and eminently powerful man. The nobles here presentthemselves, who profess that they can do all this in much better style;for they say that there is much more wisdom in many than in one, and atleast as much faith and equity. And, last of all, come the people, whocry with a loud voice that they will render obedience neither to theone nor the few; that even to brute beasts nothing is so dear asliberty; and that all men who serve either kings or nobles are deprivedof it. Thus, the kings attract us by affection, the nobles by talent, the people by liberty; and in the comparison it is hard to choose thebest. 

_Lælius. _ I think so too, but yet it is impossible to despatch theother branches of the question, if you leave this primary pointundetermined. 

XXXVI. _Scipio. _ We must then, I suppose, imitate Aratus, who, when heprepared himself to treat of great things, thought himself in dutybound to begin with Jupiter. 

_Lælius. _ Wherefore Jupiter? and what is there in this discussion whichresembles that poem?

_Scipio. _ Why, it serves to teach us that we cannot better commence ourinvestigations than by invoking him whom, with one voice, both learnedand unlearned extol as the universal king of all gods and men. 

How so? said Lælius. 

Do you, then, asked Scipio, believe in nothing which is not before youreyes? whether these ideas have been established by the chiefs of statesfor the benefit of society, that there might be believed to exist oneUniversal Monarch in heaven, at whose nod (as Homer expresses it) allOlympus trembles, and that he might be accounted both king and fatherof all creatures; for there is great authority, and there are manywitnesses, if you choose to call all many, who attest that all nationshave unanimously recognized, by the decrees of their chiefs, thatnothing is better than a king, since they think that all the Gods aregoverned by the divine power of one sovereign; or if we suspect thatthis opinion rests on the error of the ignorant, and should be classedamong the fables, let us listen to those universal testimonies oferudite men, who have, as it were, seen with their eyes those things tothe knowledge of which we can hardly attain by report. 

What men do you mean? said Lælius. 

Those, replied Scipio, who, by the investigation of nature, havearrived at the opinion that the whole universe [is animated] by asingle Mind[311]. * * *

XXXVII. But if you please, my Lælius, I will bring forward evidenceswhich are neither too ancient nor in any respect barbarous. 

Those, said Lælius, are what I want. 

_Scipio. _ You are aware that it is now not four centuries since thiscity of ours has been without kings. 

_Lælius. _ You are correct; it is less than four centuries. 

_Scipio. _ Well, then, what are four centuries in the age of a state orcity? is it a long time?

_Lælius. _ It hardly amounts to the age of maturity. 

_Scipio. _ You say truly; and yet not four centuries have elapsed sincethere was a king in Rome. 

_Lælius. _ And he was a proud king. 

_Scipio. _ But who was his predecessor?

_Lælius. _ He was an admirably just one; and, indeed, we must bestow thesame praise on all his predecessors as far back as Romulus, who reignedabout six centuries ago. 

_Scipio. _ Even he, then, is not very ancient. 

_Lælius. _ No; he reigned when Greece was already becoming old. 

_Scipio. _ Agreed. Was Romulus, then, think you, king of a barbarouspeople?

_Lælius. _ Why, as to that, if we were to follow the example of theGreeks, who say that all people are either Greeks or barbarians, I amafraid that we must confess that he was a king of barbarians; but ifthis name belongs rather to manners than to languages, then I believethe Greeks were just as barbarous as the Romans. 

Then Scipio said: But with respect to the present question, we do notso much need to inquire into the nation as into the disposition. For ifintelligent men, at a period so little remote, desired the governmentof kings, you will confess that I am producing authorities that areneither antiquated, rude, nor insignificant. 

XXXVIII. Then Lælius said: I see, Scipio, that you are verysufficiently provided with authorities; but with me, as with every fairjudge, authorities are worth less than arguments. 

Scipio replied: Then, Lælius, you shall yourself make use of anargument derived from your own senses. 

_Lælius. _ What senses do you mean?

_Scipio. _ The feelings which you experience when at any time you happento feel angry with any one. 

_Lælius. _ That happens rather oftener than I could wish. 

_Scipio. _ Well, then, when you are angry, do you permit your anger totriumph over your judgment?

No, by Hercules! said Lælius; I imitate the famous Archytas ofTarentum, who, when he came to his villa, and found all itsarrangements were contrary to his orders, said to his steward, "Ah! youunlucky scoundrel, I would flog you to death, if it were not that I amin a rage with you. "

Capital, said Scipio. Archytas, then, regarded unreasonable anger as akind of sedition and rebellion of nature which he sought to appease byreflection. And so, if we examine avarice, the ambition of power or ofglory, or the lusts of concupiscence and licentiousness, we shall finda certain conscience in the mind of man, which, like a king, sways bythe force of counsel all the inferior faculties and propensities; andthis, in truth, is the noblest portion of our nature; for whenconscience reigns, it allows no resting-place to lust, violence, ortemerity. 

_Lælius. _ You have spoken the truth. 

_Scipio. _ Well, then, does a mind thus governed and regulated meet yourapprobation?

_Lælius. _ More than anything upon earth. 

_Scipio. _ Then you would not approve that the evil passions, which areinnumerable, should expel conscience, and that lusts and animalpropensities should assume an ascendency over us?

_Lælius. _ For my part, I can conceive nothing more wretched than a mindthus degraded, or a man animated by a soul so licentious. 

_Scipio. _ You desire, then, that all the faculties of the mind shouldsubmit to a ruling power, and that conscience should reign over themall?

_Lælius. _ Certainly, that is my wish. 

_Scipio. _ How, then, can you doubt what opinion to form on the subjectof the Commonwealth? in which, if the State is thrown into many hands, it is very plain that there will be no presiding authority; for ifpower be not united, it soon comes to nothing. 

XXXIX. Then Lælius asked: But what difference is there, I should liketo know, between the one and the many, if justice exists equally inmany?

And Scipio said: Since I see, my Lælius, that the authorities I haveadduced have no great influence on you, I must continue to employ youyourself as my witness in proof of what I am saying. 

In what way, said Lælius, are you going to make me again support yourargument?

_Scipio. _ Why, thus: I recollect, when we were lately at Formiæ, thatyou told your servants repeatedly to obey the orders of more than onemaster only. 

_Lælius. _ To be sure, those of my steward. 

_Scipio. _ What do you at home? Do you commit your affairs to the handsof many persons?

_Lælius. _ No, I trust them to myself alone. 

_Scipio. _ Well, in your whole establishment, is there any other masterbut yourself?

_Lælius. _ Not one. 

_Scipio. _ Then I think you must grant me that, as respects the State, the government of single individuals, provided they are just, issuperior to any other. 

_Lælius. _ You have conducted me to this conclusion, and I entertainvery nearly that opinion. 

XL. And Scipio said: You would still further agree with me, my Lælius, if, omitting the common comparisons, that one pilot is better fitted tosteer a ship, and a physician to treat an invalid, provided they becompetent men in their respective professions, than many could be, Ishould come at once to more illustrious examples. 

_Lælius. _ What examples do you mean?

_Scipio. _ Do not you observe that it was the cruelty and pride of onesingle Tarquin only that made the title of king unpopular among theRomans?

_Lælius. _ Yes, I acknowledge that. 

_Scipio. _ You are also aware of this fact, on which I think I shalldebate in the course of the coming discussion, that after the expulsionof King Tarquin, the people was transported by a wonderful excess ofliberty. Then innocent men were driven into banishment; then theestates of many individuals were pillaged, consulships were madeannual, public authorities were overawed by mobs, popular appeals tookplace in all cases imaginable; then secessions of the lower ordersensued, and, lastly, those proceedings which tended to place all powersin the hands of the populace. 

_Lælius. _ I must confess this is all too true. 

All these things now, said Scipio, happened during periods of peace andtranquillity, for license is wont to prevail when there is little tofear, as in a calm voyage or a trifling disease. But as we observe thevoyager and the invalid implore the aid of some one competent director, as soon as the sea grows stormy and the disease alarming, so our nationin peace and security commands, threatens, resists, appeals from, andinsults its magistrates, but in war obeys them as strictly as kings;for public safety is, after all, rather more valuable than popularlicense. And in the most serious wars, our countrymen have even chosenthe entire command to be deposited in the hands of some single chief, without a colleague; the very name of which magistrate indicates theabsolute character of his power. For though he is evidently calleddictator because he is appointed (dicitur), yet do we still observehim, my Lælius, in our sacred books entitled Magister Populi (themaster of the people). 

This is certainly the case, said Lælius. 

Our ancestors, therefore, said Scipio, acted wisely. [312] * * *

XLI. When the people is deprived of a just king, as Ennius says, afterthe death of one of the best of monarchs, They hold his memory dear, and, in the warmth Of their discourse, they cry, O Romulus! O prince divine, sprung from the might of Mars To be thy country's guardian! O our sire! Be our protector still, O heaven-begot!

Not heroes, nor lords alone, did they call those whom they lawfullyobeyed; nor merely as kings did they proclaim them; but they pronouncedthem their country's guardians, their fathers, and their Gods. Nor, indeed, without cause, for they added, Thou, Prince, hast brought us to the gates of light. 

And truly they believed that life and honor and glory had arisen tothem from the justice of their king. The same good-will would doubtlesshave remained in their descendants, if the same virtues had beenpreserved on the throne; but, as you see, by the injustice of one manthe whole of that kind of constitution fell into ruin. 

I see it indeed, said Lælius, and I long to know the history of thesepolitical revolutions both in our own Commonwealth and in every other. 

XLII. And Scipio said: When I shall have explained my opinionrespecting the form of government which I prefer, I shall be able tospeak to you more accurately respecting the revolutions of states, though I think that such will not take place so easily in the mixedform of government which I recommend. With respect, however, toabsolute monarchy, it presents an inherent and invincible tendency torevolution. No sooner does a king begin to be unjust than this entireform of government is demolished, and he at once becomes a tyrant, which is the worst of all governments, and one very closely related tomonarchy. If this State falls into the hands of the nobles, which isthe usual course of events, it becomes an aristocracy, or the second ofthe three kinds of constitutions which I have described; for it is, asit were, a royal--that is to say, a paternal--council of the chief menof the State consulting for the public benefit. Or if the people byitself has expelled or slain a tyrant, it is moderate in its conduct aslong as it has sense and wisdom, and while it rejoices in its exploit, and applies itself to maintaining the constitution which it hasestablished. But if ever the people has raised its forces against ajust king and robbed him of his throne, or, as has frequently happened, has tasted the blood of its legitimate nobles, and subjected the wholeCommonwealth to its own license, you can imagine no flood orconflagration so terrible, or any whose violence is harder to appeasethan this unbridled insolence of the populace. 

XLIII. Then we see realized that which Plato so vividly describes, if Ican but express it in our language. It is by no means easy to do itjustice in translation: however, I will try. 

When, says Plato, the insatiate jaws of the populace are fired with thethirst of liberty, and when the people, urged on by evil ministers, drains in its thirst the cup, not of tempered liberty, but unmitigatedlicense, then the magistrates and chiefs, if they are not utterlysubservient and remiss, and shameless promoters of the popularlicentiousness, are pursued, incriminated, accused, and cried downunder the title of despots and tyrants. I dare say you recollect thepassage. 

Yes, said Lælius, it is familiar to me. 

_Scipio. _ Plato thus proceeds: Then those who feel in duty bound toobey the chiefs of the State are persecuted by the insensate populace, who call them voluntary slaves. But those who, though invested withmagistracies, wish to be considered on an equality with privateindividuals, and those private individuals who labor to abolish alldistinctions between their own class and the magistrates, are extolledwith acclamations and overwhelmed with honors, so that it inevitablyhappens in a commonwealth thus revolutionized that liberalism aboundsin all directions, due authority is found wanting even in privatefamilies, and misrule seems to extend even to the animals that witnessit. Then the father fears the son, and the son neglects the father. Allmodesty is banished; they become far too liberal for that. Nodifference is made between the citizen and the alien; the master dreadsand cajoles his scholars, and the scholars despise their masters. Theyoung men assume the gravity of sages, and sages must stoop to thefollies of children, lest they should be hated and oppressed by them. The very slaves even are under but little restraint; wives boast thesame rights as their husbands; dogs, horses, and asses are emancipatedin this outrageous excess of freedom, and run about so violently thatthey frighten the passengers from the road. At length the terminationof all this infinite licentiousness is, that the minds of the citizensbecome so fastidious and effeminate, that when they observe even theslightest exertion of authority they grow angry and seditious, and thusthe laws begin to be neglected, so that the people are absolutelywithout any master at all. 

Then Lælius said: You have very accurately rendered the opinions whichhe expressed. 

XLIV. _Scipio. _ Now, to return to the argument of my discourse. Itappears that this extreme license, which is the only liberty in theeyes of the vulgar, is, according to Plato, such that from it as a sortof root tyrants naturally arise and spring up. For as the excessivepower of an aristocracy occasions the destruction of the nobles, sothis excessive liberalism of democracies brings after it the slavery ofthe people. Thus we find in the weather, the soil, and the animalconstitution the most favorable conditions are sometimes suddenlyconverted by their excess into the contrary, and this fact isespecially observable in political governments; and this excessiveliberty soon brings the people collectively and individually to anexcessive servitude. For, as I said, this extreme liberty easilyintroduces the reign of tyranny, the severest of all unjust slaveries. In fact, from the midst of this unbridled and capricious populace, theyelect some one as a leader in opposition to their afflicted andexpelled nobles: some new chief, forsooth, audacious and impure, ofteninsolently persecuting those who have deserved well of the State, andready to gratify the populace at his neighbor's expense as well as hisown. Then, since the private condition is naturally exposed to fearsand alarms, the people invest him with many powers, and these arecontinued in his hands. Such men, like Pisistratus of Athens, will soonfind an excuse for surrounding themselves with body-guards, and theywill conclude by becoming tyrants over the very persons who raised themto dignity. If such despots perish by the vengeance of the bettercitizens, as is generally the case, the constitution is re-established;but if they fall by the hands of bold insurgents, then the same factionsucceeds them, which is only another species of tyranny. And the samerevolution arises from the fair system of aristocracy when anycorruption has betrayed the nobles from the path of rectitude. Thus thepower is like the ball which is flung from hand to hand: it passes fromkings to tyrants, from tyrants to the aristocracy, from them todemocracy, and from these back again to tyrants and to factions; andthus the same kind of government is seldom long maintained. 

XLV. Since these are the facts of experience, royalty is, in myopinion, very far preferable to the three other kinds of politicalconstitutions. But it is itself inferior to that which is composed ofan equal mixture of the three best forms of government, united andmodified by one another. I wish to establish in a commonwealth a royaland pre-eminent chief. Another portion of power should be deposited inthe hands of the aristocracy, and certain things should be reserved tothe judgment and wish of the multitude. This constitution, in the firstplace, possesses that great equality without which men cannot longmaintain their freedom; secondly, it offers a great stability, whilethe particular separate and isolated forms easily fall into theircontraries; so that a king is succeeded by a despot, an aristocracy bya faction, a democracy by a mob and confusion; and all these forms arefrequently sacrificed to new revolutions. In this united and mixedconstitution, however, similar disasters cannot happen without thegreatest vices in public men. For there can be little to occasionrevolution in a state in which every person is firmly established inhis appropriate rank, and there are but few modes of corruption intowhich we can fall. 

XLVI. But I fear, Lælius, and you, my amiable and learned friends, thatif I were to dwell any longer on this argument, my words would seemrather like the lessons of a master, and not like the free conversationof one who is uniting with you in the consideration of truth. I shalltherefore pass on to those things which are familiar to all, and whichI have long studied. And in these matters I believe, I feel, and Iaffirm that of all governments there is none which, either in itsentire constitution or the distribution of its parts, or in thediscipline of its manners, is comparable to that which our fathersreceived from our earliest ancestors, and which they have handed downto us. And since you wish to hear from me a development of thisconstitution, with which you are all acquainted, I shall endeavor toexplain its true character and excellence. Thus keeping my eye fixed onthe model of our Roman Commonwealth, I shall endeavor to accommodate toit all that I have to say on the best form of government. And bytreating the subject in this way, I think I shall be able to accomplishmost satisfactorily the task which Lælius has imposed on me. 

XLVII. _Lælius. _ It is a task most properly and peculiarly your own, myScipio; for who can speak so well as you either on the subject of theinstitutions of our ancestors, since you yourself are descended frommost illustrious ancestors, or on that of the best form of aconstitution which, if we possess (though at this moment we do not, still), when we do possess such a thing, who will be more flourishingin it than you? or on that of providing counsels for the future, asyou, who, by dispelling two mighty perils from our city, have providedfor its safety forever?

FRAGMENTS. 

XLVIII. As our country is the source of the greatest benefits, and is aparent dearer than those who have given us life, we owe her stillwarmer gratitude than belongs to our human relations. * * *

Nor would Carthage have continued to flourish during six centurieswithout wisdom and good institutions. * * *

In truth, says Cicero, although the reasonings of those men may containmost abundant fountains of science and virtue; still, if we comparethem with the achievements and complete actions of statesmen, they willseem not to have been of so much service in the actual business of menas of amusement for their leisure. 

 * * * * *

INTRODUCTION TO THE SECOND BOOK, BY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR. 

 In this second book of his Commonwealth, Cicero gives us a spirited and eloquent review of the history and successive developments of the Roman constitution. He bestows the warmest praises on its early kings, points out the great advantages which had resulted from its primitive monarchical system, and explains how that system had been gradually broken up. In order to prove the importance of reviving it, he gives a glowing picture of the evils and disasters that had befallen the Roman State in consequence of that overcharge of democratic folly and violence which had gradually gained an alarming preponderance, and describes, with a kind of prophetic sagacity, the fruit of his political experience, the subsequent revolutions of the Roman State, which such a state of things would necessarily bring about. 

BOOK II. 

I. [When, therefore, he observed all his friends kindled with thede]sire of hearing him, Scipio thus opened the discussion. I willcommence, said Scipio, with a sentiment of old Cato, whom, as you know, I singularly loved and exceedingly admired, and to whom, in compliancewith the judgment of both my parents, and also by my own desire, I wasentirely devoted during my youth; of whose discourse, indeed, I couldnever have enough, so much experience did he possess as a statesmanrespecting the republic which he had so long governed, both in peaceand war, with so much success. There was also an admirable propriety inhis style of conversation, in which wit was tempered with gravity; awonderful aptitude for acquiring, and at the same time communicating, information; and his life was in perfect correspondence and unison withhis language. He used to say that the government of Rome was superiorto that of other states for this reason, because in nearly all of themthere had been single individuals, each of whom had regulated theircommonwealth according to their own laws and their own ordinances. SoMinos had done in Crete, and Lycurgus in Sparta; and in Athens, whichexperienced so many revolutions, first Theseus, then Draco, then Solon, then Clisthenes, afterward many others; and, lastly, when it was almostlifeless and quite prostrate, that great and wise man, DemetriusPhalereus, supported it. But our Roman constitution, on the contrary, did not spring from the genius of one individual, but from that ofmany; and it was established, not in the lifetime of one man, but inthe course of several ages and centuries. For, added he, there neveryet existed any genius so vast and comprehensive as to allow nothing atany time to escape its attention; and all the geniuses in the worldunited in a single mind could never, within the limits of a singlelife, exert a foresight sufficiently extensive to embrace and harmonizeall, without the aid of experience and practice. 

Thus, according to Cato's usual habit, I now ascend in my discourse tothe "origin of the people, " for I like to adopt the expression of Cato. I shall also more easily execute my proposed task if I thus exhibit toyou our political constitution in its infancy, progress, and maturity, now so firm and fully established, than if, after the example ofSocrates in the books of Plato, I were to delineate a mere imaginaryrepublic. 

II. When all had signified their approbation, Scipio resumed: Whatcommencement of a political constitution can we conceive morebrilliant, or more universally known, than the foundation of Rome bythe hand of Romulus? And he was the son of Mars: for we may grant thismuch to the common report existing among men, especially as it is notmerely ancient, but one also which has been wisely maintained by ourancestors, in order that those who have done great service tocommunities may enjoy the reputation of having received from the Gods, not only their genius, but their very birth. 

It is related, then, that soon after the birth of Romulus and hisbrother Remus, Amulius, King of Alba, fearing that they might one dayundermine his authority, ordered that they should be exposed on thebanks of the Tiber; and that in this situation the infant Romulus wassuckled by a wild beast; that he was afterward educated by theshepherds, and brought up in the rough way of living and labors of thecountrymen; and that he acquired, when he grew up, such superiorityover the rest by the vigor of his body and the courage of his soul, that all the people who at that time inhabited the plains in the midstof which Rome now stands, tranquilly and willingly submitted to hisgovernment. And when he had made himself the chief of those bands, tocome from fables to facts, he took Alba Longa, a powerful and strongcity at that time, and slew its king, Amulius. 

III. Having acquired this glory, he conceived the design (as they tellus) of founding a new city and establishing a new state. As respectedthe site of his new city, a point which requires the greatest foresightin him who would lay the foundation of a durable commonwealth, he chosethe most convenient possible position. For he did not advance too nearthe sea, which he might easily have done with the forces under hiscommand, either by entering the territory of the Rutuli and Aborigines, or by founding his citadel at the mouth of the Tiber, where many yearsafter Ancus Martius established a colony. But Romulus, with admirablegenius and foresight, observed and perceived that sites very near thesea are not the most favorable positions for cities which would attaina durable prosperity and dominion. And this, first, because maritimecities are always exposed, not only to many attacks, but to perils theycannot provide against. For the continued land gives notice, by manyindications, not only of any regular approaches, but also of any suddensurprises of an enemy, and announces them beforehand by the mere sound. There is no adversary who, on an inland territory, can arrive soswiftly as to prevent our knowing not only his existence, but hischaracter too, and where he comes from. But a maritime and naval enemycan fall upon a town on the sea-coast before any one suspects that heis about to come; and when he does come, nothing exterior indicates whohe is, or whence he comes, or what he wishes; nor can it even bedetermined and distinguished on all occasions whether he is a friend ora foe. 

IV. But maritime cities are likewise naturally exposed to corruptinfluences, and revolutions of manners. Their civilization is more orless adulterated by new languages and customs, and they import not onlyforeign merchandise, but foreign fashions, to such a degree thatnothing can continue unalloyed in the national institutions. Those whoinhabit these maritime towns do not remain in their native place, butare urged afar from their homes by winged hope and speculation. Andeven when they do not desert their country in person, still their mindsare always expatiating and voyaging round the world. 

Nor, indeed, was there any cause which more deeply undermined Corinthand Carthage, and at last overthrew them both, than this wandering anddispersion of their citizens, whom the passion of commerce andnavigation had induced to abandon the cultivation of their lands andtheir attention to military pursuits. 

The proximity of the sea likewise administers to maritime cities amultitude of pernicious incentives to luxury, which are either acquiredby victory or imported by commerce; and the very agreeableness of theirposition nourishes many expensive and deceitful gratifications of thepassions. And what I have spoken of Corinth may be applied, for aught Iknow, without incorrectness to the whole of Greece. For thePeloponnesus itself is almost wholly on the sea-coast; nor, besides thePhliasians, are there any whose lands do not touch the sea; and beyondthe Peloponnesus, the Ænianes, the Dorians, and the Dolopes are theonly inland people. Why should I speak of the Grecian islands, which, girded by the waves, seem all afloat, as it were, together with theinstitutions and manners of their cities? And these things, I havebefore noticed, do not respect ancient Greece only; for which of allthose colonies which have been led from Greece into Asia, Thracia, Italy, Sicily, and Africa, with the single exception of Magnesia, isthere that is not washed by the sea? Thus it seems as if a sort ofGrecian coast had been annexed to territories of the barbarians. Foramong the barbarians themselves none were heretofore a maritime people, if we except the Carthaginians and Etruscans; one for the sake ofcommerce, the other of pillage. And this is one evident reason of thecalamities and revolutions of Greece, because she became infected withthe vices which belong to maritime cities, which I just now brieflyenumerated. But yet, notwithstanding these vices, they have one greatadvantage, and one which is of universal application, namely, thatthere is a great facility for new inhabitants flocking to them. And, again, that the inhabitants are enabled to export and send abroad theproduce of their native lands to any nation they please, which offersthem a market for their goods. 

V. By what divine wisdom, then, could Romulus embrace all the benefitsthat could belong to maritime cities, and at the same time avoid thedangers to which they are exposed, except, as he did, by building hiscity on the bank of an inexhaustible river, whose equal currentdischarges itself into the sea by a vast mouth, so that the city couldreceive all it wanted from the sea, and discharge its superabundantcommodities by the same channel? And in the same river a communicationis found by which it not only receives from the sea all the productionsnecessary to the conveniences and elegances of life, but those alsowhich are brought from the inland districts. So that Romulus seems tome to have divined and anticipated that this city would one day becomethe centre and abode of a powerful and opulent empire; for there is noother part of Italy in which a city could be situated so as to be ableto maintain so wide a dominion with so much ease. 

VI. As to the natural fortifications of Rome, who is so negligent andunobservant as not to have them depicted and deeply stamped on hismemory? Such is the plan and direction of the walls, which, by theprudence of Romulus and his royal successors, are bounded on all sidesby steep and rugged hills; and the only aperture between the Esquilineand Quirinal mountains is enclosed by a formidable rampart, andsurrounded by an immense fosse. And as for our fortified citadel, it isso secured by a precipitous barrier and enclosure of rocks, that, evenin that horrible attack and invasion of the Gauls, it remainedimpregnable and inviolable. Moreover, the site which he selected hadalso an abundance of fountains, and was healthy, though it was in themidst of a pestilential region; for there are hills which at oncecreate a current of fresh air, and fling an agreeable shade over thevalleys. 

VII. These things he effected with wonderful rapidity, and thusestablished the city, which, from his own name Romulus, he determinedto call Rome. And in order to strengthen his new city, he conceived adesign, singular enough, and even a little rude, yet worthy of a greatman, and of a genius which discerned far away in futurity the means ofstrengthening his power and his people. The young Sabine females ofhonorable birth who had come to Rome, attracted by the public games andspectacles which Romulus then, for the first time, established asannual games in the circus, were suddenly carried off at the feast ofConsus[313] by his orders, and were given in marriage to the men of thenoblest families in Rome. And when, on this account, the Sabines haddeclared war against Rome, the issue of the battle being doubtful andundecided, Romulus made an alliance with Tatius, King of the Sabines, at the intercession of the matrons themselves who had been carried off. By this compact he admitted the Sabines into the city, gave them aparticipation in the religious ceremonies, and divided his power withtheir king. 

VIII. But after the death of Tatius, the entire government was againvested in the hands of Romulus, although, besides making Tatius his ownpartner, he had also elected some of the chiefs of the Sabines into theroyal council, who on account of their affectionate regard for thepeople were called _patres_, or fathers. He also divided the peopleinto three tribes, called after the name of Tatius, and his own name, and that of Locumo, who had fallen as his ally in the Sabine war; andalso into thirty curiæ, designated by the names of those Sabinevirgins, who, after being carried off at the festivals, generouslyoffered themselves as the mediators of peace and coalition. 

But though these orders were established in the life of Tatius, yet, after his death, Romulus reigned with still greater power by thecounsel and authority of the senate. 

IX. In this respect he approved and adopted the principle whichLycurgus but little before had applied to the government of Lacedæmon;namely, that the monarchical authority and the royal power operate bestin the government of states when to this supreme authority is joinedthe influence of the noblest of the citizens. 

Therefore, thus supported, and, as it were, propped up by this councilor senate, Romulus conducted many wars with the neighboring nations ina most successful manner; and while he refused to take any portion ofthe booty to his own palace, he did not cease to enrich the citizens. He also cherished the greatest respect for that institution ofhierarchical and ecclesiastical ordinances which we still retain to thegreat benefit of the Commonwealth; for in the very commencement of hisgovernment he founded the city with religious rites, and in theinstitution of all public establishments he was equally careful inattending to these sacred ceremonials, and associated with himself onthese occasions priests that were selected from each of the tribes. Healso enacted that the nobles should act as patrons and protectors tothe inferior citizens, their natural clients and dependants, in theirrespective districts, a measure the utility of which I shall afterwardnotice. --The judicial punishments were mostly fines of sheep and oxen;for the property of the people at that time consisted in their fieldsand cattle, and this circumstance has given rise to the expressionswhich still designate real and personal wealth. Thus the people werekept in order rather by mulctations than by bodily inflictions. 

X. After Romulus had thus reigned thirty-seven years, and establishedthese two great supports of government, the hierarchy and the senate, having disappeared in a sudden eclipse of the sun, he was thoughtworthy of being added to the number of the Gods--an honor which nomortal man ever was able to attain to but by a glorious pre-eminence ofvirtue. And this circumstance was the more to be admired in the case ofRomulus because most of the great men that have been deified were soexalted to celestial dignities by the people, in periods very littleenlightened, when fiction was easy and ignorance went hand-in-hand withcredulity. But with respect to Romulus we know that he lived less thansix centuries ago, at a time when science and literature were alreadyadvanced, and had got rid of many of the ancient errors that hadprevailed among less civilized peoples. For if, as we consider provedby the Grecian annals, Rome was founded in the seventh Olympiad, thelife of Romulus was contemporary with that period in which Greecealready abounded in poets and musicians--an age when fables, exceptthose concerning ancient matters, received little credit. 

For, one hundred and eight years after the promulgation of the laws ofLycurgus, the first Olympiad was established, which indeed, through amistake of names, some authors have supposed constituted, by Lycurguslikewise. And Homer himself, according to the best computation, livedabout thirty years before the time of Lycurgus. We must conclude, therefore, that Homer flourished very many years before the date ofRomulus. So that, as men had now become learned, and as the timesthemselves were not destitute of knowledge, there was not much roomleft for the success of mere fictions. Antiquity indeed has receivedfables that have at times been sufficiently improbable: but this epoch, which was already so cultivated, disdaining every fiction that wasimpossible, rejected[314] * * * We may therefore, perhaps, attach somecredit to this story of Romulus's immortality, since human life was atthat time experienced, cultivated, and instructed. And doubtless therewas in him such energy of genius and virtue that it is not altogetherimpossible to believe the report of Proculus Julius, the husbandman, ofthat glorification having befallen Romulus which for many ages we havedenied to less illustrious men. At all events, Proculus is reported tohave stated in the council, at the instigation of the senators, whowished to free themselves from all suspicion of having been accessariesto the death of Romulus, that he had seen him on that hill which is nowcalled the Quirinal, and that he had commanded him to inform the peoplethat they should build him a temple on that same hill, and offer himsacrifices under the name of Quirinus. 

XI. You see, therefore, that the genius of this great man did notmerely establish the constitution of a new people, and then leave them, as it were, crying in their cradle; but he still continued tosuperintend their education till they had arrived at an adult andwellnigh a mature age. 

Then Lælius said: We now see, my Scipio, what you meant when you saidthat you would adopt a new method of discussing the science ofgovernment, different from any found in the writings of the Greeks. Forthat prime master of philosophy, whom none ever surpassed in eloquence, I mean Plato, chose an open plain on which to build an imaginary cityafter his own taste--a city admirably conceived, as none can deny, butremote enough from the real life and manners of men. Others, withoutproposing to themselves any model or type of government whatever, haveargued on the constitutions and forms of states. You, on the contrary, appear to be about to unite these two methods; for, as far as you havegone, you seem to prefer attributing to others your discoveries, ratherthan start new theories under your own name and authority, as Socrateshas done in the writings of Plato. Thus, in speaking of the site ofRome, you refer to a systematic policy, to the acts of Romulus, whichwere many of them the result of necessity or chance; and you do notallow your discourse to run riot over many states, but you fix andconcentrate it on our own Commonwealth. Proceed, then, in the courseyou have adopted; for I see that you intend to examine our other kings, in your pursuit of a perfect republic, as it were. 

XII. Therefore, said Scipio, when that senate of Romulus which wascomposed of the nobles, whom the king himself respected so highly thathe designated them _patres_, or fathers, and their children patricians, attempted after the death of Romulus to conduct the government withouta king, the people would not suffer it, but, amidst their regret forRomulus, desisted not from demanding a fresh monarch. The nobles thenprudently resolved to establish an interregnum--a new political form, unknown to other nations. It was not without its use, however, since, during the interval which elapsed before the definitive nomination ofthe new king, the State was not left without a ruler, nor subjected toolong to the same governor, nor exposed to the fear lest some one, inconsequence of the prolonged enjoyment of power, should become moreunwilling to lay it aside, or more powerful if he wished to secure itpermanently for himself. At which time this new nation discovered apolitical provision which had escaped the Spartan Lycurgus, whoconceived that the monarch ought not to be elective--if indeed it istrue that this depended on Lycurgus--but that it was better for theLacedæmonians to acknowledge as their sovereign the next heir of therace of Hercules, whoever he might be: but our Romans, rude as theywere, saw the importance of appointing a king, not for his family, butfor his virtue and experience. 

XIII. And fame having recognized these eminent qualities in NumaPompilius, the Roman people, without partiality for their own citizens, committed itself, by the counsel of the senators, to a king of foreignorigin, and summoned this Sabine from the city of Cures to Rome, thathe might reign over them. Numa, although the people had proclaimed himking in their Comitia Curiata, did nevertheless himself pass a LexCuriata respecting his own authority; and observing that theinstitutions of Romulus had too much excited the military propensitiesof the people, he judged it expedient to recall them from this habit ofwarfare by other employments. 

XIV. And, in the first place, he divided severally among the citizensthe lands which Romulus had conquered, and taught them that evenwithout the aid of pillage and devastation they could, by thecultivation of their own territories, procure themselves all kinds ofcommodities. And he inspired them with the love of peace andtranquillity, in which faith and justice are likeliest to flourish, andextended the most powerful protection to the people in the cultivationof their fields and the enjoyment of their produce. Pompilius likewisehaving created hierarchical institutions of the highest class, addedtwo augurs to the old number. He intrusted the superintendence of thesacred rites to five pontiffs, selected from the body of the nobles;and by those laws which we still preserve on our monuments hemitigated, by religious ceremonials, the minds that had been too longinflamed by military enthusiasm and enterprise. 

He also established the Flamines and the Salian priests and the VestalVirgins, and regulated all departments of our ecclesiastical policywith the most pious care. In the ordinance of sacrifices, he wishedthat the ceremonial should be very arduous and the expenditure verylight. He thus appointed many observances, whose knowledge is extremelyimportant, and whose expense far from burdensome. Thus in religiousworship he added devotion and removed costliness. He was also the firstto introduce markets, games, and the other usual methods of assemblingand uniting men. By these establishments, he inclined to benevolenceand amiability spirits whom the passion for war had rendered savage andferocious. Having thus reigned in the greatest peace and concordthirty-nine years--for in dates we mainly follow our Polybius, thanwhom no one ever gave more attention to the investigation of thehistory of the times--he departed this life, having corroborated thetwo grand principles of political stability, religion and clemency. 

XV. When Scipio had concluded these remarks, Is it not, said Manilius, a true tradition which is current, that our king Numa was a disciple ofPythagoras himself, or that at least he was a Pythagorean in hisdoctrines? For I have often heard this from my elders, and we know thatit is the popular opinion; but it does not seem to be clearly proved bythe testimony of our public annals. 

Then Scipio replied: The supposition is false, my Manilius; it is notmerely a fiction, but a ridiculous and bungling one too; and we shouldnot tolerate those statements, even in fiction, relating to facts whichnot only did not happen, but which never could have happened. For itwas not till the fourth year of the reign of Tarquinius Superbus thatPythagoras is ascertained to have come to Sybaris, Crotona, and thispart of Italy. And the sixty-second Olympiad is the common date of theelevation of Tarquin to the throne, and of the arrival of Pythagoras. From which it appears, when we calculate the duration of the reigns ofthe kings, that about one hundred and forty years must have elapsedafter the death of Numa before Pythagoras first arrived in Italy. Andthis fact, in the minds of men who have carefully studied the annals oftime, has never been at all doubted. 

O ye immortal Gods! said Manilius, how deep and how inveterate is thiserror in the minds of men! However, it costs me no effort to concedethat our Roman sciences were not imported from beyond the seas, butthat they sprung from our own indigenous and domestic virtues. 

XVI. You will become still more convinced of this fact, said Africanus, when tracing the progress of our Commonwealth as it became graduallydeveloped to its best and maturest condition. And you will find yetfurther occasion to admire the wisdom of our ancestors on this veryaccount, since you will perceive, that even those things which theyborrowed from foreigners received a much higher improvement among usthan they possessed in the countries from whence they were importedamong us; and you will learn that the Roman people was aggrandized, notby chance or hazard, but rather by counsel and discipline, to whichfortune indeed was by no means unfavorable. 

XVII. After the death of King Pompilius, the people, after a shortperiod of interregnum, chose Tullus Hostilius for their king, in theComitia Curiata; and Tullus, after Numa's example, consulted the peoplein their curias to procure a sanction for his government. Hisexcellence chiefly appeared in his military glory and greatachievements in war. He likewise, out of his military spoils, constructed and decorated the House of Comitia and the Senate-house. Healso settled the ceremonies of the proclamation of hostilities, andconsecrated their righteous institution by the religious sanction ofthe Fetial priests, so that every war which was not duly announced anddeclared might be adjudged illegal, unjust, and impious. And observehow wisely our kings at that time perceived that certain rights oughtto be allowed to the people, of which we shall have a good deal to sayhereafter. Tullus did not even assume the ensigns of royalty withoutthe approbation of the people; and when he appointed twelve lictors, with their axes to go before him[315] * * *

XVIII. * * * [_Manilius_. ] This Commonwealth of Rome, which you are soeloquently describing, did not creep towards perfection; it rather flewat once to the maturity of its grandeur. 

[_Scipio. _] After Tullus, Ancus Martius, a descendant of Numa by hisdaughter, was appointed king by the people. He also procured thepassing of a law[316] through the Comitia Curiata respecting hisgovernment. This king having conquered the Latins, admitted them to therights of citizens of Rome. He added to the city the Aventine andCælian hills; he distributed the lands he had taken in war; he bestowedon the public all the maritime forests he had acquired; and he builtthe city Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber, and colonized it. When hehad thus reigned twenty-three years, he died. 

Then said Lælius: Doubtless this king deserves our praises, but theRoman history is obscure. We possess, indeed, the name of thismonarch's mother, but we know nothing of his father. 

It is so, said Scipio; but in those ages little more than the names ofthe kings were recorded. 

XIX. For the first time at this period, Rome appears to have becomemore learned by the study of foreign literature; for it was no longer alittle rivulet, flowing from Greece towards the walls of our city, butan overflowing river of Grecian sciences and arts. This is generallyattributed to Demaratus, a Corinthian, the first man of his country inreputation, honor, and wealth; who, not being able to bear thedespotism of Cypselus, tyrant of Corinth, fled with large treasures, and arrived at Tarquinii, the most flourishing city in Etruria. There, understanding that the domination of Cypselus was thoroughlyestablished, he, like a free and bold-hearted man, renounced hiscountry, and was admitted into the number of the citizens of Tarquinii, and fixed his residence in that city. And having married a woman of thecity, he instructed his two sons, according to the method of Greekeducation, in all kinds of sciences and arts. [317] * * *

XX. * * * [One of these sons] was easily admitted to the rights ofcitizenship at Rome; and on account of his accomplished manners andlearning, he became a favorite of our king Ancus to such a degree thathe was a partner in all his counsels, and was looked upon almost as hisassociate in the government. He, besides, possessed wonderfulaffability, and was very kind in assistance, support, protection, andeven gifts of money, to the citizens. 

When, therefore, Ancus died, the people by their unanimous suffrageschose for their king this Lucius Tarquinius (for he had thustransformed the Greek name of his family, that he might seem in allrespects to imitate the customs of his adopted countrymen). And whenhe, too, had procured the passing of a law respecting his authority, hecommenced his reign by doubling the original number of the senators. The ancient senators he called patricians of the major families(_patres majorum gentium_), and he asked their votes first; and thosenew senators whom he himself had added, he entitled patricians of minorfamilies. After this, he established the order of knights, on the planwhich we maintain to this day. He would not, however, change thedenomination of the Tatian, Rhamnensian, and Lucerian orders, though hewished to do so, because Attus Nævius, an augur of the highestreputation, would not sanction it. And, indeed, I am aware that theCorinthians were remarkably attentive to provide for the maintenanceand good condition of their cavalry by taxes levied on the inheritanceof widows and orphans. To the first equestrian orders Lucius also addednew ones, composing a body of three hundred knights. And this number hedoubled, after having conquered the Æquicoli, a large and ferociouspeople, and dangerous enemies of the Roman State. Having likewiserepulsed from our walls an invasion of the Sabines, he routed them bythe aid of his cavalry, and subdued them. He also was the first personwho instituted the grand games which are now called the Roman Games. Hefulfilled his vow to build a temple to the all-good and all-powerfulJupiter in the Capitol--a vow which he made during a battle in theSabine war--and died after a reign of thirty-eight years. 

XXI. Then Lælius said: All that you have been relating corroborates thesaying of Cato, that the constitution of the Roman Commonwealth is notthe work of one man, or one age; for we can clearly see what a greatprogress in excellent and useful institutions was continued under eachsuccessive king. But we are now arrived at the reign of a monarch whoappears to me to have been of all our kings he who had the greatestforesight in matters of political government. 

So it appears to me, said Scipio; for after Tarquinius Priscus comesServius Sulpicius, who was the first who is reported to have reignedwithout an order from the people. He is supposed to have been the sonof a female slave at Tarquinii, by one of the soldiers or clients ofKing Priscus; and as he was educated among the servants of this prince, and waiting on him at table, the king soon observed the fire of hisgenius, which shone forth even from his childhood, so skilful was he inall his words and actions. Therefore, Tarquin, whose own children werethen very young, so loved Servius that he was very commonly believed tobe his own son, and he instructed him with the greatest care in all thesciences with which he was acquainted, according to the most exactdiscipline of the Greeks. 

But when Tarquin had perished by the plots of the sons of Ancus, andServius (as I have said) had begun to reign, not by the order, but yetwith the good-will and consent, of the citizens--because, as it wasfalsely reported that Priscus was recovering from his wounds, Servius, arrayed in the royal robes, delivered judgment, freed the debtors athis own expense, and, exhibiting the greatest affability, announcedthat he delivered judgment at the command of Priscus--he did not commithimself to the senate; but, after Priscus was buried, he consulted thepeople respecting his authority, and, being authorized by them toassume the dominion, he procured a law to be passed through the ComitiaCuriata, confirming his government. 

He then, in the first place, avenged the injuries of the Etruscans byarms. After which[318] * * *

XXII. * * * he enrolled eighteen centuries of knights of the firstorder. Afterward, having created a great number of knights from thecommon mass of the people, he divided the rest of the people into fiveclasses, distinguishing between the seniors and the juniors. These heso constituted as to place the suffrages, not in the hands of themultitude, but in the power of the men of property. And he took care tomake it a rule of ours, as it ought to be in every government, that thegreatest number should not have the greatest weight. You are wellacquainted with this institution, otherwise I would explain it to you;but you are familiar with the whole system, and know how the centuriesof knights, with six suffrages, and the first class, comprising eightycenturies, besides one other century which was allotted to theartificers, on account of their utility to the State, produceeighty-nine centuries. If to these there are added twelvecenturies--for that is the number of the centuries of the knights whichremain[319]--the entire force of the State is summed up; and thearrangement is such that the remaining and far more numerous multitude, which is distributed through the ninety-six last centuries, is notdeprived of a right of suffrage, which would be an arrogant measure;nor, on the other hand, permitted to exert too great a preponderance inthe government, which would be dangerous. 

In this arrangement, Servius was very cautious in his choice of termsand denominations. He called the rich _assidui_, because they affordedpecuniary succor[320] to the State. As to those whoso fortune did notexceed 1500 pence, or those who had nothing but their labor, he calledthem _proletarii_ classes, as if the State should expect from them ahardy progeny[321] and population. 

Even a single one of the ninety-six last centuries containednumerically more citizens than the entire first class. Thus, no one wasexcluded from his right of voting, yet the preponderance of votes wassecured to those who had the deepest stake in the welfare of the State. Moreover, with reference to the accensi, velati, trumpeters, hornblowers, proletarii[322] * * *

XXIII. * * * That that republic is arranged in the best manner which, being composed in due proportions of those three elements, themonarchical, the aristocratical, and the democratic, does not bypunishment irritate a fierce and savage mind. * * * [A similarinstitution prevailed at Carthage], which was sixty-five years moreancient than Rome, since it was founded thirty-nine years before thefirst Olympiad; and that most ancient law-giver Lycurgus made nearlythe same arrangements. Thus the system of regular subordination, andthis mixture of the three principal forms of government, appear to mecommon alike to us and them. But there is a peculiar advantage in ourCommonwealth, than which nothing can be more excellent, which I shallendeavor to describe as accurately as possible, because it is of such acharacter that nothing analogous can be discovered in ancient states;for these political elements which I have noticed were so united in theconstitutions of Rome, of Sparta, and of Carthage, that they were notcounterbalanced by any modifying power. For in a state in which one manis invested with a perpetual domination, especially of the monarchicalcharacter, although there be a senate in it, as there was in Rome underthe kings, and in Sparta, by the laws of Lycurgus, or even where thepeople exercise a sort of jurisdiction, as they used in the days of ourmonarchy, the title of king must still be pre-eminent; nor can such astate avoid being, and being called, a kingdom. And this kind ofgovernment is especially subject to frequent revolutions, because thefault of a single individual is sufficient to precipitate it into themost pernicious disasters. 

In itself, however, royalty is not only not a reprehensible form ofgovernment, but I do not know whether it is not far preferable to allother simple constitutions, if I approved of any simple constitutionwhatever. But this preference applies to royalty so long only as itmaintains its appropriate character; and this character provides thatone individual's perpetual power, and justice, and universal wisdomshould regulate the safety, equality, and tranquillity of the wholepeople. But many privileges must be wanting to communities that liveunder a king; and, in the first place, liberty, which does not consistin slavery to a just master, but in slavery to no master at all[323]* * *

XXIV. * * * [Let us now pass on to the reign of the seventh and lastking of Rome, Tarquinius Superbus. ] And even this unjust and cruelmaster had good fortune for his companion for some time in all hisenterprises. For he subdued all Latium; he captured Suessa Pometia, apowerful and wealthy city, and, becoming possessed of an immense spoilof gold and silver, he accomplished his father's vow by the building ofthe Capitol. He established colonies, and, faithful to the institutionsof those from whom he sprung, he sent magnificent presents, as tokensof gratitude for his victories, to Apollo at Delphi. 

XXV. Here begins the revolution of our political system of government, and I must beg your attention to its natural course and progression. For the grand point of political science, the object of our discourses, is to know the march and the deviations of governments, that when weare acquainted with the particular courses and inclinations ofconstitutions, we may be able to restrain them from their fataltendencies, or to oppose adequate obstacles to their decline and fall. 

For this Tarquinius Superbus, of whom I am speaking, being first of allstained with the blood of his admirable predecessor on the throne, could not be a man of sound conscience and mind; and as he fearedhimself the severest punishment for his enormous crime, he sought hisprotection in making himself feared. Then, in the glory of hisvictories and his treasures, he exulted in insolent pride, and couldneither regulate his own manners nor the passions of the members of hisfamily. 

When, therefore, his eldest son had offered violence to Lucretia, daughter of Tricipitinus and wife of Collatinus, and this chaste andnoble lady had stabbed herself to death on account of the injury shecould not survive--then a man eminent for his genius and virtue, LuciusBrutus, dashed from his fellow-citizens this unjust yoke of odiousservitude; and though he was but a private man, he sustained thegovernment of the entire Commonwealth, and was the first that taughtthe people in this State that no one was a private man when thepreservation of our liberties was concerned. Beneath his authority andcommand our city rose against tyranny, and, stirred by the recent griefof the father and relatives of Lucretia, and with the recollections ofTarquin's haughtiness, and the numberless crimes of himself and hissons, they pronounced sentence of banishment against him and hischildren, and the whole race of the Tarquins. 

XXVI. Do you not observe, then, how the king sometimes degenerates intothe despot, and how, by the fault of one individual, a form ofgovernment originally good is abused to the worst of purposes? Here isa specimen of that despot over the people whom the Greeks denominate atyrant. For, according to them, a king is he who, like a father, consults the interests of his people, and who preserves those whom heis set over in the very best condition of life. This indeed is, as Ihave said, an excellent form of government, yet still liable, and, asit were, inclined, to a pernicious abuse. For as soon as a king assumesan unjust and despotic power, he instantly becomes a tyrant, than whichnothing baser or fouler, than which no imaginable animal can be moredetestable to gods or men; for though in form a man, he surpasses themost savage monsters in ferocious cruelty. For who can justly call hima human being, who admits not between himself and hisfellow-countrymen, between himself and the whole human race, anycommunication of justice, any association of kindness? But we shallfind some fitter occasion of speaking of the evils of tyranny when thesubject itself prompts us to declare against them who, even in a statealready liberated, have affected these despotic insolencies. 

XXVII. Such is the first origin and rise of a tyrant. For this was thename by which the Greeks choose to designate an unjust king; and by thetitle king our Romans universally understand every man who exercisesover the people a perpetual and undivided domination. Thus SpuriusCassius, and Marcus Manlius, and Spurius Mælius, are said to havewished to seize upon the kingly power, and lately [Tiberius Gracchusincurred the same accusation]. [324] * * *

XXVIII. * * * [Lycurgus, in Sparta, formed, under the name of Elders, ]a small council consisting of twenty-eight members only; to these heallotted the supreme legislative authority, while the king held thesupreme executive authority. Our Romans, emulating his example, andtranslating his terms, entitled those whom he had called Elders, Senators, which, as we have said, was done by Romulus in reference tothe elect patricians. In this constitution, however, the power, theinfluence, and name of the king is still pre-eminent. You maydistribute, indeed, some show of power to the people, as Lycurgus andRomulus did, but you inflame them, with the thirst of liberty byallowing them even the slightest taste of its sweetness; and stilltheir hearts will be overcast with alarm lest their king, as oftenhappens, should become unjust. The prosperity of the people, therefore, can be little better than fragile, when placed at the disposal of anyone individual, and subjected to his will and caprices. 

XXIX. Thus the first example, prototype, and original of tyranny hasbeen discovered by us in the history of our own Roman State, religiously founded by Romulus, without applying to the theoreticalCommonwealth which, according to Plato's recital, Socrates wasaccustomed to describe in his peripatetic dialogues. We have observedTarquin, not by the usurpation of any new power, but by the unjustabuse of the power which he already possessed, overturn the wholesystem of our monarchical constitution. 

Let us oppose to this example of the tyrant another, a virtuousking--wise, experienced, and well informed respecting the true interestand dignity of the citizens--a guardian, as it were, and superintendentof the Commonwealth; for that is a proper name for every ruler andgovernor of a state. And take you care to recognize such a man when youmeet him, for he is the man who, by counsel and exertion, can bestprotect the nation. And as the name of this man has not yet been oftenmentioned in our discourse, and as the character of such a man must beoften alluded to in our future conversations, [I shall take an earlyopportunity of describing it. ][325] * * *

XXX. * * * [Plato has chosen to suppose a territory and establishmentsof citizens, whose fortunes] were precisely equal. And he has given usa description of a city, rather to be desired than expected; and he hasmade out not such a one as can really exist, but one in which theprinciples of political affairs may be discerned. But for me, if I canin any way accomplish it, while I adopt the same general principles asPlato, I am seeking to reduce them to experience and practice, not inthe shadow and picture of a state, but in a real and actualCommonwealth, of unrivalled amplitude and power; in order to be able topoint out, with the most graphic precision, the causes of everypolitical good and social evil. 

For after Rome had flourished more than two hundred and forty yearsunder her kings and interreges, and after Tarquin was sent intobanishment, the Roman people conceived as much detestation of the nameof king as they had once experienced regret at the death, or ratherdisappearance, of Romulus. Therefore, as in the first instance theycould hardly bear the idea of losing a king, so in the latter, afterthe expulsion of Tarquin, they could not endure to hear the name of aking. [326] * * *

XXXI. * * * Therefore, when that admirable constitution of Romulus hadlasted steadily about two hundred and forty years. * * * The whole ofthat law was abolished. In this humor, our ancestors banishedCollatinus, in spite of his innocence, because of the suspicion thatattached to his family, and all the rest of the Tarquins, on account ofthe unpopularity of their name. In the same humor, Valerius Publicolawas the first to lower the fasces before the people, when he spoke inthe assembly of the people. He also had the materials of his houseconveyed to the foot of Mount Velia, having observed that thecommencement of his edifice on the summit of this hill, where KingTullius had once dwelt, excited the suspicions of the people. 

It was the same man, who in this respect pre-eminently deserved thename of Publicola, who carried in favor of the people the first lawreceived in the Comitia Centuriata, that no magistrate should sentenceto death or scourging a Roman citizen who appealed from his authorityto the people. And the pontifical books attest that the right of appealhad existed, even against the decision of the kings. Our augural booksaffirm the same thing. And the Twelve Tables prove, by a multitude oflaws, that there was a right of appeal from every judgment and penalty. Besides, the historical fact that the decemviri who compiled the lawswere created with the privilege of judging without appeal, sufficientlyproves that the other magistrates had not the same power. And aconsular law, passed by Lucius Valerius Politus and Marcus HoratiusBarbatus, men justly popular for promoting union and concord, enactedthat no magistrate should thenceforth be appointed with authority tojudge without appeal; and the Portian laws, the work of three citizensof the name of Portius, as you are aware, added nothing new to thisedict but a penal sanction. 

Therefore Publicola, having promulgated this law in favor of appeal tothe people, immediately ordered the axes to be removed from the fasces, which the lictors carried before the consuls, and the next dayappointed Spurius Lucretius for his colleague. And as the new consulwas the oldest of the two, Publicola ordered his lictors to pass overto him; and he was the first to establish the rule, that each of theconsuls should be preceded by the lictors in alternate months, thatthere should be no greater appearance of imperial insignia among thefree people than they had witnessed in the days of their kings. Thus, in my opinion, he proved himself no ordinary man, as, by so grantingthe people a moderate degree of liberty, he more easily maintained theauthority of the nobles. 

Nor is it without reason that I have related to you these ancient andalmost obsolete events; but I wished to adduce my instances of men andcircumstances from illustrious persons and times, as it is to suchevents that the rest of my discourse will be directed. 

XXXII. At that period, then, the senate preserved the Commonwealth insuch a condition that though the people were really free, yet few actswere passed by the people, but almost all, on the contrary, by theauthority, customs, and traditions of the senate. And over all theconsuls exercised a power--in time, indeed, only annual, but in natureand prerogative completely royal. 

The consuls maintained, with the greatest energy, that rule which somuch conduces to the power of our nobles and great men, that the actsof the commons of the people shall not be binding, unless the authorityof the patricians has approved them. About the same period, andscarcely ten years after the first consuls, we find the appointment ofthe dictator in the person of Titus Lartius. And this new kind ofpower--namely, the dictatorship--appears exceedingly similar to themonarchical royalty. All his power, however, was vested in the supremeauthority of the senate, to which the people deferred; and in thesetimes great exploits were performed in war by brave men invested withthe supreme command, whether dictators or consuls. 

XXXIII. But as the nature of things necessarily brought it to pass thatthe people, once freed from its kings, should arrogate to itself moreand more authority, we observe that after a short interval of onlysixteen years, in the consulship of Postumus Cominius and SpuriusCassius, they attained their object; an event explicable, perhaps, onno distinct principle, but, nevertheless, in a manner independent ofany distinct principle. For recollect what I said in commencing ourdiscourse, that if there exists not in the State a just distributionand subordination of rights, offices, and prerogatives, so as to givesufficient domination to the chiefs, sufficient authority to thecounsel of the senators, and sufficient liberty to the people, thisform of the government cannot be durable. 

For when the excessive debts of the citizens had thrown the State intodisorder, the people first retired to Mount Sacer, and next occupiedMount Aventine. And even the rigid discipline of Lycurgus could notmaintain those restraints in the case of the Greeks. For in Spartaitself, under the reign of Theopompus, the five magistrates whom theyterm Ephori, and in Crete ten whom they entitle Cosmi, were establishedin opposition to the royal power, just as tribunes were added among usto counterbalance the consular authority. 

XXXIV. There might have been a method, indeed, by which our ancestorscould have been relieved from the pressure of debt, a method with whichSolon the Athenian, who lived at no very distant period before, wasacquainted, and which our senate did not neglect when, in theindignation which the odious avarice of one individual excited, all thebonds of the citizens were cancelled, and the right of arrest for awhile suspended. In the same way, when the plebeians were oppressed bythe weight of the expenses occasioned by public misfortunes, a cure andremedy were sought for the sake of public security. The senate, however, having forgotten their former decision, gave an advantage tothe democracy; for, by the creation of two tribunes to appease thesedition of the people, the power and authority of the senate werediminished; which, however, still remained dignified and august, inasmuch as it was still composed of the wisest and bravest men, whoprotected their country both with their arms and with their counsels;whose authority was exceedingly strong and flourishing, because inhonor they were as much before their fellow-citizens as they wereinferior in luxuriousness, and, as a general rule, not superior to themin wealth. And their public virtues were the more agreeable to thepeople, because even in private matters they were ready to serve everycitizen, by their exertions, their counsels, and their liberality. 

XXXV. Such was the situation of the Commonwealth when the quæstorimpeached Spurius Cassius of being so much emboldened by the excessivefavor of the people as to endeavor to make himself master ofmonarchical power. And, as you have heard, his own father, having saidthat he had found that his son was really guilty of this crime, condemned him to death at the instance of the people. About fifty-fouryears after the first consulate, Spurius Tarpeius and Aulus Aterniusvery much gratified the people by proposing, in the Comitia Centuriata, the substitution of fines instead of corporal punishments. Twenty yearsafterward, Lucius Papirius and Publius Pinarius, the censors, having bya strict levy of fines confiscated to the State the entire flocks andherds of many private individuals, a light tax on the cattle wassubstituted for the law of fines in the consulship of Caius Julius andPublius Papirius. 

XXXVI. But, some years previous to this, at a period when the senatepossessed the supreme influence, and the people were submissive andobedient, a new system was adopted. At that time both the consuls andtribunes of the people abdicated their magistracies, and the decemviriwere appointed, who were invested with great authority, from whichthere was no appeal whatever, so as to exercise the chief domination, and to compile the laws. After having composed, with much wisdom andequity, the Ten Tables of laws, they nominated as their successors inthe ensuing year other decemviri, whose good faith and justice do notdeserve equal praise. One member of this college, however, merits ourhighest commendation. I allude to Caius Julius, who declared respectingthe nobleman Lucius Sestius, in whose chamber a dead body had beenexhumed under his own eyes, that though as decemvir he held the highestpower without appeal, he still required bail, because he was unwillingto neglect that admirable law which permitted no court but the ComitiaCenturiata to pronounce final sentence on the life of a Roman citizen. 

XXXVII. A third year followed under the authority of the samedecemvirs, and still they were not disposed to appoint theirsuccessors. In a situation of the Commonwealth like this, which, as Ihave often repeated, could not be durable, because it had not an equaloperation with respect to all the ranks of the citizens, the wholepublic power was lodged in the hands of the chiefs and decemvirs of thehighest nobility, without the counterbalancing authority of thetribunes of the people, without the sanction of any other magistracies, and without appeal to the people in the case of a sentence of death orscourging. 

Thus, out of the injustice of these men, there was suddenly produced agreat revolution, which changed the entire condition of the government, or they added two tables of very tyrannical laws, and thoughmatrimonial alliances had always been permitted, even with foreigners, they forbade, by the most abominable and inhuman edict, that anymarriages should take place between the nobles and the commons--anorder which was afterward abrogated by the decree of Canuleius. Besides, they introduced into all their political measures corruption, cruelty, and avarice. And indeed the story is well known, andcelebrated in many literary compositions, that a certain DecimusVirginius was obliged, on account of the libidinous violence of one ofthese decemvirs, to stab his virgin daughter in the midst of the forum. Then, when he in his desperation had fled to the Roman army which wasencamped on Mount Algidum, the soldiers abandoned the war in which theywere engaged, and took possession of the Sacred Mount, as they had donebefore on a similar occasion, and next invested Mount Aventine in theirarms. [327] Our ancestors knew how to prove most thoroughly, and toretain most wisely. * * *

XXXVIII. And when Scipio had spoken in this manner, and all his friendswere awaiting in silence the rest of his discourse, then said Tubero:Since these men who are older than I, my Scipio, make no fresh demandson you, I shall take the liberty to tell you what I particularly wishyou would explain in your subsequent remarks. 

Do so, said Scipio, and I shall be glad to hear. 

Then Tubero said: You appear to me to have spoken a panegyric on ourCommonwealth of Rome exclusively, though Lælius requested your viewsnot only of the government of our own State, but of the policy ofstates in general. I have not, therefore, yet sufficiently learned fromyour discourse, with respect to that mixed form of government you mostapprove, by what discipline, moral and legal, we may be best able toestablish and maintain it. 

XXXIX. Africanus replied: I think that we shall soon find an occasionbetter adapted to the discussion you have proposed, respecting theconstitution and conservatism of states. As to the best form ofgovernment, I think on this point I have sufficiently answered thequestion of Lælius. For in answering him, I, in the first place, specifically noticed the three simple forms of government--monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy; and the three vicious constitutionscontrary to them, into which they often degenerate; and I said thatnone of these forms, taken separately, was absolutely good; but Idescribed as preferable to either of them that mixed government whichis composed of a proper amalgamation of these simple ingredients. If Ihave since depicted our own Roman constitution as an example, it wasnot in order to define the very best form of government, for that maybe understood without an example; but I wished, in the exhibition of amighty commonwealth actually in existence, to render distinct andvisible what reason and discourse would vainly attempt to displaywithout the assistance of experimental illustration. Yet, if you stillrequire me to describe the best form of government, independent of allparticular examples, we must consult that exactly proportioned andgraduated image of government which nature herself presents to herinvestigators. Since you * * * this model of a city and people[328]* * *

XL. * * * which I also am searching for, and which I am anxious toarrive at. 

_Lælius. _ You mean the model that would be approved by the trulyaccomplished politician?

_Scipio. _ The same. 

_Lælius. _ You have plenty of fair patterns even now before you, if youwould but begin with yourself. 

Then Scipio said: I wish I could find even one such, even in the entiresenate. For he is really a wise politician who, as we have often seenin Africa, while seated on a huge and unsightly elephant, can guide andrule the monster, and turn him whichever way he likes by a slightadmonition, without any actual exertion. 

_Lælius. _ I recollect, and when I was your lieutenant I often saw, oneof these drivers. 

_Scipio. _ Thus an Indian or Carthaginian regulates one of these hugeanimals, and renders him docile and familiar with human manners. Butthe genius which resides in the mind of man, by whatever name it may becalled, is required to rein and tame a monster far more multiform andintractable, whenever it can accomplish it, which indeed is seldom. Itis necessary to hold in with a strong hand that ferocious[329] * * *

XLI. * * * [beast, denominated the mob, which thirsts after blood] tosuch a degree that it can scarcely be sated with the most hideousmassacres of men. * * *

 But to a man who is greedy, and grasping, and lustful, and fond of wallowing in voluptuousness. 

 The fourth kind of anxiety is that which is prone to mourning and melancholy, and which is constantly worrying itself. 

 [_The next paragraph, "Esse autem angores, " etc. , is wholly unintelligible without the context. _]

 As an unskilful charioteer is dragged from his chariot, covered with dirt, bruised, and lacerated. 

 The excitements of men's minds are like a chariot, with horses harnessed to it; in the proper management of which, the chief duty of the driver consists in knowing his road: and if he keeps the road, then, however rapidly he proceeds, he will encounter no obstacles; but if he quits the proper track, then, although he may be going gently and slowly, he will either be perplexed on rugged ground, or fall over some steep place, or at least he will be carried where he has no need to go. [330]

XLII. * * * can be said. 

Then Lælius said: I now see the sort of politician you require, on whomyou would impose the office and task of government, which is what Iwished to understand. 

He must be an almost unique specimen, said Africanus, for the taskwhich I set him comprises all others. He must never cease fromcultivating and studying himself, that he may excite others to imitatehim, and become, through the splendor of his talents and enterprises, aliving mirror to his countrymen. For as in flutes and harps, and in allvocal performances, a certain unison and harmony must be preservedamidst the distinctive tones, which cannot be broken or violatedwithout offending experienced ears; and as this concord and deliciousharmony is produced by the exact gradation and modulation of dissimilarnotes; even so, by means of the just apportionment of the highest, middle, and lower classes, the State is maintained in concord and peaceby the harmonic subordination of its discordant elements: and thus, that which is by musicians called harmony in song answers andcorresponds to what we call concord in the State--concord, thestrongest and loveliest bond of security in every commonwealth, beingalways accompanied by justice and equity. 

 XLIII. And after this, when Scipio had discussed with considerable breadth of principle and felicity of illustration the great advantage that justice is to a state, and the great injury which would arise if it were wanting, Pilus, one of those who were present at the discussion, took up the matter and demanded that this question should be argued more carefully, and that something more should be said about justice, on account of a sentiment that was now obtaining among people in general, that political affairs could not be wholly carried on without some disregard of justice. 

XLIV. * * * to be full of justice. 

Then Scipio replied: I certainly think so. And I declare to you that Iconsider that all I have spoken respecting the government of the Stateis worth nothing, and that it will be useless to proceed further, unless I can prove that it is a false assertion that political businesscannot be conducted without injustice and corruption; and, on the otherhand, establish as a most indisputable fact that without the strictestjustice no government whatever can last long. 

But, with your permission, we have had discussion enough for the day. The rest--and much remains for our consideration--we will defer tillto-morrow. When they had all agreed to this, the debate of the day wasclosed. 

 * * * * *

INTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD BOOK, BY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR. 

 Cicero here enters on the grand question of Political Justice, and endeavors to evince throughout the absolute verity of that inestimable proverb, "Honesty is the best policy, " in all public as well as in all private affairs. St. Augustine, in his City of God, has given the following analysis of this magnificent disquisition:

 "In the third book of Cicero's Commonwealth" (says he) "the question of Political Justice is most earnestly discussed. Philus is appointed to support, as well as he can, the sophistical arguments of those who think that political government cannot be carried on without the aid of injustice and chicanery. He denies holding any such opinion himself; yet, in order to exhibit the truth more vividly through the force of contrast, he pleads with the utmost ingenuity the cause of injustice against justice; and endeavors to show, by plausible examples and specious dialectics, that injustice is as useful to a statesman as justice would be injurious. Then Lælius, at the general request, takes up the plea for justice, and maintains with all his eloquence that nothing could be so ruinous to states as injustice and dishonesty, and that without a supreme justice, no political government could expect a long duration. This point being sufficiently proved, Scipio returns to the principal discussion. He reproduces and enforces the short definition that he had given of a commonwealth--that it consisted in the welfare of the entire people, by which word 'people' he does not mean the mob, but the community, bound together by the sense of common rights and mutual benefits. He notices how important such just definitions are in all debates whatever, and draws this conclusion from the preceding arguments--that the Commonwealth is the common welfare whenever it is swayed with justice and wisdom, whether it be subordinated to a king, an aristocracy, or a democracy. But if the king be unjust, and so becomes a tyrant; and the aristocracy unjust, which makes them a faction; or the democrats unjust, and so degenerate into revolutionists and destructives--then not only the Commonwealth is corrupted, but in fact annihilated. For it can be no longer the common welfare when a tyrant or a faction abuse it; and the people itself is no longer the people when it becomes unjust, since it is no longer a community associated by a sense of right and utility, according to the definition. "--_Aug. Civ. Dei. _ 3-21. 

 This book is of the utmost importance to statesmen, as it serves to neutralize the sophistries of Machiavelli, which are still repeated in many cabinets. 

BOOK III. 

I. * * *[331] Cicero, in the third book of his treatise On aCommonwealth, says that nature has treated man less like a mother thana step-dame, for she has cast him into mortal life with a body naked, fragile, and infirm, and with a mind agitated by troubles, depressed byfears, broken by labors, and exposed to passions. In this mind, however, there lies hidden, and, as it were, buried, a certain divinespark of genius and intellect. 

Though man is born a frail and powerless being, nevertheless he is safefrom all animals destitute of voice; and at the same time those otheranimals of greater strength, although they bravely endure the violenceof weather, cannot be safe from man. And the result is, that reasondoes more for man than nature does for brutes; since, in the latter, neither the greatness of their strength nor the firmness of theirbodies can save them from being oppressed by us, and made subject toour power. * * *

Plato returned thanks to nature that he had been born a man. 

II. * * * aiding our slowness by carriages, and when it had taught mento utter the elementary and confused sounds of unpolished expression, articulated and distinguished them into their proper classes, and, astheir appropriate signs, attached certain words to certain things, andthus associated, by the most delightful bond of speech, the oncedivided races of men. 

And by a similar intelligence, the inflections of the voice, whichappeared infinite, are, by the discovery of a few alphabeticcharacters, all designated and expressed; by which we maintain conversewith our absent friends, by which also indications of our wishes andmonuments of past events are preserved. Then came the use of numbers--athing necessary to human life, and at the same time immutable andeternal; a science which first urged us to raise our views to heaven, and not gaze without an object on the motions of the stars, and thedistribution of days and nights. 

III. * * *[332] [Then appeared the sages of philosophy], whose mindstook a higher flight, and who were able to conceive and to executedesigns worthy of the gifts of the Gods. Wherefore let those men whohave left us sublime essays on the principles of living be regarded asgreat men--which indeed they are--as learned men, as masters of truthand virtue; provided that these principles of civil government, thissystem of governing people, whether it be a thing discovered by men whohave lived amidst a variety of political events, or one discussedamidst their opportunities of literary tranquillity, is remembered tobe, as indeed it is, a thing by no means to be despised, being onewhich causes in first-rate minds, as we not unfrequently see, anincredible and almost divine virtue. And when to these high facultiesof soul, received from nature and expanded by social institutions, apolitician adds learning and extensive information concerning things ingeneral, like those illustrious personages who conduct the dialogue inthe present treatise, none will refuse to confess the superiority ofsuch persons to all others; for, in fact, what can be more admirablethan the study and practice of the grand affairs of state, united to aliterary taste and a familiarity with the liberal arts? or what can weimagine more perfect than a Scipio, a Lælius, or a Philus, who, not toomit anything which belonged to the most perfect excellence of thegreatest men, joined to the examples of our ancestors and thetraditions of our countrymen the foreign philosophy of Socrates?

Wherefore he who had both the desire and the power to acquaint himselfthoroughly both with the customs and the learning of his ancestorsappears to me to have attained to the very highest glory and honor. Butif we cannot combine both, and are compelled to select one of these twopaths to wisdom--though to some people the tranquil life spent in theresearch of literature and arts may appear to be the most happy anddelectable--yet, doubtless, the science of politics is more laudableand illustrious, for in this political field of exertion our greatestmen have reaped their honors, like the invincible Curius, Whom neither gold nor iron could subdue. 

IV. * * *[333] that wisdom existed still. There existed this generaldifference between these two classes, that among the one thedevelopment of the principles of nature is the subject of their studyand eloquence, and among the other national laws and institutions formthe principal topics of investigation. 

In honor of our country, we may assert that she has produced withinherself a great number, I will not say of sages (since philosophy is sojealous of this name), but of men worthy of the highest celebrity, because by them the precepts and discoveries of the sages have beencarried out into actual practice. And, moreover, though there haveexisted, and still do exist, many great and glorious empires, yet sincethe noblest masterpiece of genius in the world is the establishment ofa state and commonwealth which shall be a lasting one, even if wereckon but a single legislator for each empire, the number of theseexcellent men will appear very numerous. To be convinced of this, wehave only to turn our eyes on any nation of Italy, Latium, the Sabines, the Volscians, the Samnites, or the Etrurians, and then direct ourattention to that mighty nation of the Greeks, and then to theAssyrians, Persians, and Carthaginians, and[334] * * *

V. * * * [Scipio and his friends having again assembled, Scipio spokeas follows: In our last conversation, I promised to prove that honestyis the best policy in all states and commonwealths whatsoever. But if Iam to plead in favor of strict honesty and justice in all publicaffairs, no less than in private, I must request Philus, or some oneelse, to take up the advocacy of the other side; the truth will thenbecome more manifest, from the collision of opposite arguments, as wesee every day exemplified at the Bar. ]

And Philus replied: In good truth, you have allotted me a verycreditable cause when you wish me to undertake the defence of vice. 

Perhaps, said Lælius, you are afraid, lest, in reproducing the ordinaryobjections made to justice in politics, you should seem to express yourown sentiments; though you are universally respected as an almostunique example of the ancient probity and good faith; nor is it unknownhow familiar you are with the lawyer-like habit of disputing on bothsides of a question, because you think that this is the best way ofgetting at the truth. 

And Philus said: Very well; I obey you, and wilfully, with my eyesopen, I will undertake this dirty business; because, since those whoseek for gold do not flinch at the sight of the mud, so we who aresearching for justice, which is far more precious than gold, are boundto shrink from no annoyance. And I wish, as I am about to make use ofthe antagonist arguments of a foreigner, I might also employ a foreignlanguage. The pleas, therefore, now to be urged by Lucius Furius Philusare those [once employed by] the Greek Carneades, a man who wasaccustomed to express whatever [served his turn]. [335] * * *[336]Let itbe understood, therefore, that I by no means express my own sentiments, but those of Carneades, in order that you may refute this philosopher, who was wont to turn the best causes into joke, through the merewantonness of wit. 

 VI. He was a philosopher of the Academic School; and if any one is ignorant of his great power, and eloquence, and acuteness in arguing, he may learn it from the mention made of him by Cicero or by Lucilius, when Neptune, discoursing on a very difficult subject, declares that it cannot be explained, not even if hell were to restore Carneades himself for the purpose. This philosopher, having been sent by the Athenians to Rome as an ambassador, discussed the subject of justice very amply in the hearing of Galba and Cato the Censor, who were the greatest orators of the day. And the next day he overturned all his arguments by others of a contrary tendency, and disparaged justice, which the day before he had extolled; speaking not indeed with the gravity of a philosopher whose wisdom ought to be steady, and whose opinions unchangeable, but in a kind of rhetorical exercise of arguing on each side--a practice which he was accustomed to adopt, in order to be able to refute others who were asserting anything. The arguments by which he disparaged justice are mentioned by Lucius Furius in Cicero; I suppose, since he was discussing the Commonwealth, in order to introduce a defence and panegyric of that quality without which he did not think a commonwealth could be administered. But Carneades, in order to refute Aristotle and Plato, the advocates of justice, collected in his first argument everything that was in the habit of being advanced on behalf of justice, in order afterward to be able to overturn it, as he did. 

 VII. Many philosophers indeed, and especially Plato and Aristotle, have spoken a great deal of justice, inculcating that virtue, and extolling it with the highest praise, as giving to every one what belongs to him, as preserving equity in all things, and urging that while the other virtues are, as it were, silent and shut up, justice is the only one which is not absorbed in considerations of self-interest, and which is not secret, but finds its whole field for exercise out-of-doors, and is desirous of doing good and serving as many people as possible; as if, forsooth, justice ought to exist in judges only, and in men invested with a certain authority, and not in every one! But there is no one, not even a man of the lowest class, or a beggar, who is destitute of opportunities of displaying justice. But because these philosophers knew not what its essence was, or whence it proceeded, or what its employment was, they attributed that first of all virtues, which is the common good of all men, to a few only, and asserted that it aimed at no advantage of its own, but was anxious only for that of others. So it was well that Carneades, a man of the greatest genius and acuteness, refuted their assertions, and overthrew that justice which had no firm foundation; not because he thought justice itself deserving of blame, but in order to show that those its defenders had brought forward no trustworthy or strong arguments in its behalf. 

 Justice looks out-of-doors, and is prominent and conspicuous in its whole essence. 

 Which virtue, beyond all others, wholly devotes and dedicates itself to the advantage of others. 

VIII. * * * Both to discover and maintain. While the other, Aristotle, has filled four large volumes with a discussion on abstract justice. For I did not expect anything grand or magnificent from Chrysippus, who, after his usual fashion, examines everything rather by thesignification of words than the reality of things. But it was surelyworthy of those heroes of philosophy to ennoble by their genius avirtue so eminently beneficent and liberal, which everywhere exalts thesocial interests above the selfish, and teaches us to love othersrather than ourselves. It was worthy of their genius, we say, toelevate this virtue to a divine throne, not far from that of Wisdom. And certainly they neither wanted the will to accomplish this (for whatelse could be the cause of their writing on the subject, or what couldhave been their design?) nor the genius, in which they excelled allmen. But the weakness of their cause was too great for either theirintention or their eloquence to make it popular. In fact, this justiceon which we reason is a civil right, but no natural one; for if it werenatural and universal, then justice and injustice would be recognizedsimilarly by all men, just as the heat and cold, sweetness andbitterness. 

IX. Now, if any one, carried in that chariot of winged serpents ofwhich the poet Pacuvius makes mention, could take his flight over allnations and cities, and accurately observe their proceedings, he wouldsee that the sense of justice and right varies in different regions. Inthe first place, he would behold among the unchangeable people ofEgypt, which preserves in its archives the memory of so many ages andevents, a bull adored as a Deity, under the name of Apis, and amultitude of other monsters, and all kinds of animals admitted by thesame nation into the number of the Gods. 

In the next place, he would see in Greece, as among ourselves, magnificent temples consecrated by images in human form, which thePersians regarded as impious; and it is affirmed that the sole motiveof Xerxes for commanding the conflagration of the Athenian temples wasthe belief that it was a superstitious sacrilege to keep confinedwithin narrow walls the Gods, whose proper home was the entireuniverse. But afterward Philip, in his hostile projects against thePersians, and Alexander, who carried them into execution, alleged thisplea for war, that they were desirous to avenge the temples of Greece, which the Greeks had thought proper never to rebuild, that thismonument of the impiety of the Persians might always remain before theeyes of their posterity. 

How many--such as the inhabitants of Taurica along the Euxine Sea; asthe King of Egypt, Busiris; as the Gauls and the Carthaginians--havethought it exceedingly pious and agreeable to the Gods to sacrificemen! And, besides, the customs of life are so various that the Cretansand Ætolians regard robbery as honorable. And the Lacedæmonians saythat their territory extends to all places which they can touch with alance. The Athenians had a custom of swearing, by a publicproclamation, that all the lands which produced olives and corn weretheir own. The Gauls consider it a base employment to raise corn byagricultural labor, and go with arms in their hands, and mow down theharvests of neighboring peoples. But we ourselves, the most equitableof all nations, who, in order to raise the value of our vines andolives, do not permit the races beyond the Alps to cultivate eithervineyards or oliveyards, are said in this matter to act with prudence, but not with justice. You see, then, that wisdom and policy are notalways the same as equity. And Lycurgus, that famous inventor of a mostadmirable jurisprudence and most wholesome laws, gave the lands of therich to be cultivated by the common people, who were reduced toslavery. 

X. If I were to describe the diverse kinds of laws, institutions, manners, and customs, not only as they vary in the numerous nations, but as they vary likewise in single cities--in this one of ours, forexample--I could prove that they have had a thousand revolutions. Forinstance, that eminent expositor of our laws who sits in the presentcompany--I mean Manilius--if you were to consult him relative to thelegacies and inheritances of women, he would tell you that the presentlaw is quite different from that he was accustomed to plead in hisyouth, before the Voconian enactment came into force--an edict whichwas passed in favor of the interests of the men, but which is evidentlyfull of injustice with regard to women. For why should a woman bedisabled from inheriting property? Why can a vestal virgin become anheir, while her mother cannot? And why, admitting that it is necessaryto set some limit to the wealth of women, should Crassus's daughter, ifshe be his only child, inherit thousands without offending the law, while my daughter can only receive a small share in a bequest. [337]* * *

XI. * * * [If this justice were natural, innate, and universal, all menwould admit the same] law and right, and the same men would not enactdifferent laws at different times. If a just man and a virtuous man isbound to obey the laws, I ask, what laws do you mean? Do you intend allthe laws indifferently? But neither does virtue permit this inconstancyin moral obligation, nor is such a variation compatible with naturalconscience. The laws are, therefore, based not on our sense of justice, but on our fear of punishment. There is, therefore, no natural justice;and hence it follows that men cannot be just by nature. 

Are men, then, to say that variations indeed do exist in the laws, butthat men who are virtuous through natural conscience follow that whichis really justice, and not a mere semblance and disguise, and that itis the distinguishing characteristic of the truly just and virtuous manto render every one his due rights? Are we, then, to attribute thefirst of these characteristics to animals? For not only men of moderateabilities, but even first-rate sages and philosophers, as Pythagorasand Empedocles, declare that all kinds of living creatures have a rightto the same justice. They declare that inexpiable penalties impend overthose who have done violence to any animal whatsoever. It is, therefore, a crime to injure an animal, and the perpetrator of suchcrime[338] * * *

 XII. For when he[339] inquired of a pirate by what right he dared to infest the sea with his little brigantine: "By the same right, " he replied, "which is your warrant for conquering the world. " * * *

Wisdom and prudence instruct us by all means to increase our power, riches, and estates. For by what means could this same Alexander, thatillustrious general, who extended his empire over all Asia, withoutviolating the property of other men, have acquired such universaldominion, enjoyed so many pleasures, such great power, and reignedwithout bound or limit?

But justice commands us to have mercy upon all men, to consult theinterests of the whole human race, to give to every one his due, andinjure no sacred, public, or foreign rights, and to forbear touchingwhat does not belong to us. What is the result, then? If you obey thedictates of wisdom, then wealth, power, riches, honors, provinces, andkingdoms, from all classes, peoples, and nations, are to be aimed at. 

However, as we are discussing public matters, those examples are moreillustrious which refer to what is done publicly. And since thequestion between justice and policy applies equally to private andpublic affairs, I think it well to speak of the wisdom of the people. Iwill not, however, mention other nations, but come at once to our ownRoman people, whom Africanus, in his discourse yesterday, traced fromthe cradle, and whose empire now embraces the whole world. Justiceis[340] * * *

 XIII. How far utility is at variance with justice we may learn from the Roman people itself, which, declaring war by means of the fecials, and committing injustice with all legal formality, always coveting and laying violent hands on the property of others, acquired the possession of the whole world. 

 What is the advantage of one's own country but the disadvantage of another state or nation, by extending one's dominions by territories evidently wrested from others, increasing one's power, improving one's revenues, etc. ? Therefore, whoever has obtained these advantages for his country--that is to say, whoever has overthrown cities, subdued nations, and by these means filled the treasury with money, taken lands, and enriched his fellow-citizens--such a man is extolled to the skies; is believed to be endowed with consummate and perfect virtue; and this mistake is fallen into not only by the populace and the ignorant, but by philosophers, who even give rules for injustice. 

XIV. * * * For all those who have the right of life and death over thepeople are in fact tyrants; but they prefer being called by the titleof king, which belongs to the all-good Jupiter. But when certain men, by favor of wealth, birth, or any other means, get possession of theentire government, it is a faction; but they choose to denominatethemselves an aristocracy. If the people gets the upper hand, and ruleseverything after its capricious will, they call it liberty, but it isin fact license. And when every man is a guard upon his neighbor, andevery class is a guard upon every other class, then because no onetrusts in his own strength, a kind of compact is formed between thegreat and the little, from whence arises that mixed kind of governmentwhich Scipio has been commending. Thus justice, according to thesefacts, is not the daughter of nature or conscience, but of humanimbecility. For when it becomes necessary to choose between these threepredicaments, either to do wrong without retribution, or to do wrongwith retribution, or to do no wrong at all, it is best to do wrong withimpunity; next, neither to do wrong nor to suffer for it; but nothingis more wretched than to struggle incessantly between the wrong weinflict and that we receive. Therefore, he who attains to that firstend[341] * * *

 XV. This was the sum of the argument of Carneades: that men had established laws among themselves from considerations of advantage, varying them according to their different customs, and altering them often so as to adapt them to the times; but that there was no such thing as natural law; that all men and all other animals are led to their own advantage by the guidance of nature; that there is no such thing as justice, or, if there be, that it is extreme folly, since a man would injure himself while consulting the interests of others. And he added these arguments, that all nations who were flourishing and dominant, and even the Romans themselves, who were the masters of the whole world, if they wished to be just--that is to say, if they restored all that belonged to others--would have to return to their cottages, and to lie down in want and misery. 

Except, perhaps, of the Arcadians and Athenians, who, I presume, dreading that this great act of retribution might one day arrive, pretend that they were sprung from the earth, like so many field-mice. 

XVI. In reply to these statements, the following arguments are oftenadduced by those who are not unskilful in discussions, and who, in thisquestion, have all the greater weight of authority, because, when weinquire, Who is a good man?--understanding by that term a frank andsingle-minded man--we have little need of captious casuists, quibblers, and slanderers. For those men assert that the wise man does not seekvirtue because of the personal gratification which the practice ofjustice and beneficence procures him, but rather because the life ofthe good man is free from fear, care, solicitude, and peril; while, onthe other hand, the wicked always feel in their souls a certainsuspicion, and always behold before their eyes images of judgment andpunishment. Do not you think, therefore, that there is any benefit, orthat there is any advantage which can be procured by injustice, precious enough to counterbalance the constant pressure of remorse, andthe haunting consciousness that retribution awaits the sinner, andhangs over his devoted head. [342] * * *

XVII. [Our philosophers, therefore, put a case. Suppose, say they, twomen, one of whom is an excellent and admirable person, of high honorand remarkable integrity; the latter is distinguished by nothing buthis vice and audacity. And suppose that their city has so mistakentheir characters as to imagine the good man to be a scandalous, impious, and audacious criminal, and to esteem the wicked man, on thecontrary, as a pattern of probity and fidelity. On account of thiserror of their fellow-citizens, the good man is arrested and tormented, his hands are cut off, his eyes are plucked out, he is condemned, bound, burned, exterminated, reduced to want, and to the last appearsto all men to be most deservedly the most miserable of men. On theother hand, the flagitious wretch is exalted, worshipped, loved by all, and honors, offices, riches, and emoluments are all conferred on him, and he shall be reckoned by his fellow-citizens the best and worthiestof mortals, and in the highest degree deserving of all manner ofprosperity. Yet, for all this, who is so mad as to doubt which of thesetwo men he would rather be?

XVIII. What happens among individuals happens also among nations. Thereis no state so absurd and ridiculous as not to prefer unjust dominionto just subordination. I need not go far for examples. During my ownconsulship, when you were my fellow-counsellors, we consultedrespecting the treaty of Numantia. No one was ignorant that QuintusPompey had signed a treaty, and that Mancinus had done the same. Thelatter, being a virtuous man, supported the proposition which I laidbefore the people, after the decree of the senate. The former, on theother side, opposed it vehemently. If modesty, probity, or faith hadbeen regarded, Mancinus would have carried his point; but in reason, counsel, and prudence, Pompey surpassed him. Whether[343] * * *

XIX. If a man should have a faithless slave, or an unwholesome house, with whose defect he alone was acquainted, and he advertised them forsale, would he state the fact that his servant was infected withknavery, and his house with malaria, or would he conceal theseobjections from the buyer? If he stated those facts, he would behonest, no doubt, because he would deceive nobody; but still he wouldbe thought a fool, because he would either get very little for hisproperty, or else fail to sell it at all. By concealing these defects, on the other hand, he will be called a shrewd man--as one who has takencare of his own interest; but he will be a rogue, notwithstanding, because he will be deceiving his neighbors. Again, let us suppose thatone man meets another, who sells gold and silver, conceiving them to becopper or lead; shall he hold his peace that he may make a capitalbargain, or correct the mistake, and purchase at a fair rate? He wouldevidently be a fool in the world's opinion if he preferred the latter. 

XX. It is justice, beyond all question, neither to commit murder norrobbery. What, then, would your just man do, if, in a case ofshipwreck, he saw a weaker man than himself get possession of a plank?Would he not thrust him off, get hold of the timber himself, and escapeby his exertions, especially as no human witness could be present inthe mid-sea? If he acted like a wise man of the world, he wouldcertainly do so, for to act in any other way would cost him his life. If, on the other hand, he prefers death to inflicting unjustifiableinjury on his neighbor, he will be an eminently honorable and just man, but not the less a fool, because he saved another's life at the expenseof his own. Again, if in case of a defeat and rout, when the enemy werepressing in the rear, this just man should find a wounded comrademounted on a horse, shall he respect his right at the risk of beingkilled himself, or shall he fling him from the horse in order topreserve his own life from the pursuers? If he does so, he is a wiseman, but at the same time a wicked one; if he does not, he is admirablyjust, but at the same time stupid. 

XXI. _Scipio. _ I might reply at great length to these sophisticalobjections of Philus, if it were not, my Lælius, that all our friendsare no less anxious than myself to hear you take a leading part in thepresent debate, especially as you promised yesterday that you wouldplead at large on my side of the argument. If you cannot spare time forthis, at any rate do not desert us; we all ask it of you. 

_Lælius. _ This Carneades ought not to be even listened to by our youngmen. I think all the while that I am hearing him that he must be a veryimpure person; if he be not, as I would fain believe, his discourse isnot less pernicious. 

XXII. [344] True law is right reason conformable to nature, universal, unchangeable, eternal, whose commands urge us to duty, and whoseprohibitions restrain us from evil. Whether it enjoins or forbids, thegood respect its injunctions, and the wicked treat them withindifference. This law cannot be contradicted by any other law, and isnot liable either to derogation or abrogation. Neither the senate northe people can give us any dispensation for not obeying this universallaw of justice. It needs no other expositor and interpreter than ourown conscience. It is not one thing at Rome, and another at Athens; onething to-day, and another to-morrow; but in all times and nations thisuniversal law must forever reign, eternal and imperishable. It is thesovereign master and emperor of all beings. God himself is its author, its promulgator, its enforcer. And he who does not obey it flies fromhimself, and does violence to the very nature of man. And by so doinghe will endure the severest penalties even if he avoid the other evilswhich are usually accounted punishments. 

 XXIII. I am aware that in the third book of Cicero's treatise on the Commonwealth (unless I am mistaken) it is argued that no war is ever undertaken by a well-regulated commonwealth unless it be one either for the sake of keeping faith, or for safety; and what he means by a war for safety, and what safety he wishes us to understand, he points out in another passage, where he says, "But private men often escape from these penalties, which even the most stupid persons feel--want, exile, imprisonment, and stripes--by embracing the opportunity of a speedy death; but to states death itself is a penalty, though it appears to deliver individuals from punishment. For a state ought to be established so as to be eternal: therefore, there is no natural decease for a state, as there is for a man, in whose case death is not only inevitable, but often even desirable; but when a state is put an end to, it is destroyed, extinguished. It is in some degree, to compare small things with great, as if this whole world were to perish and fall to pieces. "

 In his treatise on the Commonwealth, Cicero says those wars are unjust which are undertaken without reason. Again, after a few sentences, he adds, No war is considered just unless it be formally announced and declared, and unless it be to obtain restitution of what has been taken away. 

 But our nation, by defending its allies, has now become the master of all the whole world. 

 XXIV. Also, in that same treatise on the Commonwealth, he argues most strenuously and vigorously in the cause of justice against injustice. And since, when a little time before the part of injustice was upheld against justice, and the doctrine was urged that a republic could not prosper and flourish except by injustice, this was put forward as the strongest argument, that it was unjust for men to serve other men as their masters; but that unless a dominant state, such as a great republic, acted on this injustice, it could not govern its provinces; answer was made on behalf of justice, that it was just that it should be so, because slavery is advantageous to such men, and their interests are consulted by a right course of conduct--that is, by the license of doing injury being taken from the wicked--and they will fare better when subjugated, because when not subjugated they fared worse: and to confirm this reasoning, a noble instance, taken, as it were, from nature, was added, and it was said, Why, then, does God govern man, and why does the mind govern the body, and reason govern lust, and the other vicious parts of the mind?

 XXV. Hear what Tully says more plainly still in the third book of his treatise on the Commonwealth, when discussing the reasons for government. Do we not, says he, see that nature herself has given the power of dominion to everything that is best, to the extreme advantage of what is subjected to it? Why, then, does God govern man, and why does the mind govern the body, and reason govern lust and passion and the other vicious parts of the same mind? Listen thus far; for presently he adds, But still there are dissimilarities to be recognized in governing and in obeying. For as the mind is said to govern the body, and also to govern lust, still it governs the body as a king governs his subjects, or a parent his children; but it governs lust as a master governs his slaves, because it restrains and breaks it. The authority of kings, of generals, of magistrates, of fathers, and of nations, rules their subjects and allies as the mind rules bodies; but masters control their slaves, as the best part of the mind--that is to say, wisdom--controls the vicious and weak parts of itself, such as lust, passion, and the other perturbations. 

 For there is a kind of unjust slavery when those belong to some one else who might be their own masters; but when those are slaves who cannot govern themselves, there is no injury done. 

 XXVI. If, says Carneades, you were to know that an asp was lying hidden anywhere, and that some one who did not know it was going to sit upon it, whose death would be a gain to you, you would act wickedly if you did not warn him not to sit down. Still, you would not be liable to punishment; for who could prove that you had known? But we are bringing forward too many instances; for it is plain that unless equity, good faith, and justice proceed from nature, and if all these things are referred to interest, a good man cannot be found. And on these topics a great deal is said by Lælius in our treatise on the Republic. 

 If, as we are reminded by you, we have spoken well in that treatise, when we said that nothing is good excepting what is honorable, and nothing bad excepting what is disgraceful. * * *

 XXVII. I am glad that you approve of the doctrine that the affection borne to our children is implanted by nature; indeed, if it be not, there can be no conection between man and man which has its origin in nature. And if there be not, then there is an end of all society in life. May it turn out well, says Carneades, speaking shamelessly, but still more sensibly than my friend Lucius or Patro: for, as they refer everything to themselves, do they think that anything is ever done for the sake of another? And when they say that a man ought to be good, in order to avoid misfortune, not because it is right by nature, they do not perceive that they are speaking of a cunning man, not of a good one. But these arguments are argued, I think, in those books by praising which you have given me spirits. 

 In which I agree that an anxious and hazardous justice is not that of a wise man. 

 XXVIII. And again, in Cicero, that same advocate of justice, Lælius, says, Virtue is clearly eager for honor, nor has she any other reward; which, however, she accepts easily, and exacts without bitterness. And in another place the same Lælius says:

When a man is inspired by virtue such as this, what bribes can youoffer him, what treasures, what thrones, what empires? He considersthese but mortal goods, and esteems his own divine. And if theingratitude of the people, and the envy of his competitors, or theviolence of powerful enemies, despoil his virtue of its earthlyrecompense, he still enjoys a thousand consolations in the approbationof conscience, and sustains himself by contemplating the beauty ofmoral rectitude. 

XXIX. * * * This virtue, in order to be true, must be universal. Tiberius Gracchus continued faithful to his fellow-citizens, but heviolated the rights and treaties guaranteed to our allies and the Latinpeoples. But if this habit of arbitrary violence begins to extenditself further, and perverts our authority, leading it from right toviolence, so that those who had voluntarily obeyed us are onlyrestrained by fear, then, although we, during our days, may escape theperil, yet am I solicitous respecting the safety of our posterity andthe immortality of the Commonwealth itself, which, doubtless, mightbecome perpetual and invincible if our people would maintain theirancient institutions and manners. 

XXX. When Lælius had ceased to speak, all those that were presentexpressed the extreme pleasure they found in his discourse. But Scipio, more affected than the rest, and ravished with the delight of sympathy, exclaimed: You have pleaded, my Lælius, many causes with an eloquencesuperior to that of Servius Galba, our colleague, whom you used duringhis life to prefer to all others, even to the Attic orators [and neverdid I hear you speak with more energy than to-day, while pleading thecause of justice][345] * * *

 * * * That two things were wanting to enable him to speak in public and in the forum, confidence and voice. 

XXXI. * * * This justice, continued Scipio, is the very foundation oflawful government in political constitutions. Can we call the State ofAgrigentum a commonwealth, where all men are oppressed by the crueltyof a single tyrant--where there is no universal bond of right, norsocial consent and fellowship, which should belong to every people, properly so named? It is the same in Syracuse--that illustrious citywhich Timæus calls the greatest of the Grecian towns. It was indeed amost beautiful city; and its admirable citadel, its canals distributedthrough all its districts, its broad streets, its porticoes, itstemples, and its walls, gave Syracuse the appearance of a mostflourishing state. But while Dionysius its tyrant reigned there, nothing of all its wealth belonged to the people, and the people werenothing better than the slaves of one master. Thus, wherever I behold atyrant, I know that the social constitution must be not merely viciousand corrupt, as I stated yesterday, but in strict truth no socialconstitution at all. 

XXXII. _Lælius. _ You have spoken admirably, my Scipio, and I see thepoint of your observations. 

_Scipio. _ You grant, then, that a state which is entirely in the powerof a faction cannot justly be entitled a political community?

_Lælius. _ That is evident. 

_Scipio. _ You judge most correctly. For what was the State of Athenswhen, during the great Peloponnesian war, she fell under the unjustdomination of the thirty tyrants? The antique glory of that city, theimposing aspect of its edifices, its theatre, its gymnasium, itsporticoes, its temples, its citadel, the admirable sculptures ofPhidias, and the magnificent harbor of Piræus--did they constitute it acommonwealth?

_Lælius. _ Certainly not, because these did not constitute the realwelfare of the community. 

_Scipio. _ And at Rome, when the decemvirs ruled without appeal fromtheir decisions, in the third year of their power, had not liberty lostall its securities and all its blessings?

_Lælius. _ Yes; the welfare of the community was no longer consulted, and the people soon roused themselves, and recovered their appropriaterights. 

XXXIII. _Scipio. _ I now come to the third, or democratical, form ofgovernment, in which a considerable difficulty presents itself, becauseall things are there said to lie at the disposition of the people, andare carried into execution just as they please. Here the populaceinflict punishments at their pleasure, and act, and seize, and keeppossession, and distribute property, without let or hinderance. Can youdeny, my Lælius, that this is a fair definition of a democracy, wherethe people are all in all, and where the people constitute the State?

_Lælius. _ There is no political constitution to which I more absolutelydeny the name of a _commonwealth_ than that in which all things lie inthe power of the multitude. If a commonwealth, which implies thewelfare of the entire community, could not exist in Agrigentum, Syracuse, or Athens when tyrants reigned over them--if it could notexist in Rome when under the oligarchy of the decemvirs--neither do Isee how this sacred name of commonwealth can be applied to a democracyand the sway of the mob; because, in the first place, my Scipio, Ibuild on your own admirable definition, that there can be no community, properly so called, unless it be regulated by a combination of rights. And, by this definition, it appears that a multitude of men may be justas tyrannical as a single despot; and it is so much the worse, since nomonster can be more barbarous than the mob, which assumes the name andappearance of the people. Nor is it at all reasonable, since the lawsplace the property of madmen in the hands of their sane relations, thatwe should do the [very reverse in politics, and throw the property ofthe sane into the hands of the mad multitude][346] * * *

XXXIV. * * * [It is far more rational] to assert that a wise andvirtuous aristocratical government deserves the title of acommonwealth, as it approaches to the nature of a kingdom. 

And much more so in my opinion, said Mummius. For the unity of poweroften exposes a king to become a despot; but when an aristocracy, consisting of many virtuous men, exercise power, that is the mostfortunate circumstance possible for any state. However this be, I muchprefer royalty to democracy; for that is the third kind of governmentwhich you have remaining, and a most vicious one it is. 

XXXV. Scipio replied: I am well acquainted, my Mummius, with yourdecided antipathy to the democratical system. And, although, we mayspeak of it with rather more indulgence than you are accustomed toaccord it, I must certainly agree with you, that of all the threeparticular forms of government, none is less commendable thandemocracy. 

I do not agree with you, however, when you would imply that aristocracyis preferable to royalty. If you suppose that wisdom governs the State, is it not as well that this wisdom should reside in one monarch as inmany nobles?

But we are led away by a certain incorrectness of terms in a discussionlike the present. When we pronounce the word "aristocracy, " which, inGreek, signifies the government of the best men, what can be conceivedmore excellent? For what can be thought better than the best? But when, on the other hand, the title "king" is mentioned, we begin to imagine atyrant; as if a king must be necessarily unjust. But we are notspeaking of an unjust king when we are examining the true nature ofroyal authority. To this name of king, therefore, do but attach theidea of a Romulus, a Numa, a Tullus, and perhaps you will be lesssevere to the monarchical form of constitution. 

_Mummius_. Have you, then, no commendation at all for any kind ofdemocratical government?

_Scipio. _ Why, I think some democratical forms less objectionable thanothers; and, by way of illustration, I will ask you what you thought ofthe government in the isle of Rhodes, where we were lately together;did it appear to you a legitimate and rational constitution?

_Mummius_. It did, and not much liable to abuse. 

_Scipio. _ You say truly. But, if you recollect, it was a veryextraordinary experiment. All the inhabitants were alternately senatorsand citizens. Some months they spent in their senatorial functions, andsome months they spent in their civil employments. In both theyexercised judicial powers; and in the theatre and the court, the samemen judged all causes, capital and not capital. And they had as muchinfluence, and were of as much importance as * * *

FRAGMENTS. 

 XXXVI. There is therefore some unquiet feeling in individuals, which either exults in pleasure or is crushed by annoyance. 

 [_The next is an incomplete sentence, and, as such, unintelligible_. ]

 The Phoenicians were the first who by their commerce, and by the merchandise which they carried, brought avarice and magnificence and insatiable degrees of everything into Greece. 

 Sardanapalus, the luxurious king of Assyria, of whom Tully, in the third book of his treatise on the Republic, says, "The notorious Sardanapalus, far more deformed by his vices than even by his name. "

 What is the meaning, then, of this absurd acceptation, unless some one wishes to make the whole of Athos a monument? For what is Athos or the vast Olympus? * * *

 XXXVII. I will endeavor in the proper place to show it, according to the definitions of Cicero himself, in which, putting forth Scipio as the speaker, he has briefly explained what a commonwealth and what a republic is; adducing also many assertions of his own, and of those whom he has represented as taking part in that discussion, to the effect that the State of Rome was not such a commonwealth, because there has never been genuine justice in it. However, according to definitions which are more reasonable, it was a commonwealth in some degree, and it was better regulated by the more ancient than by the later Romans. 

 It is now fitting that I should explain, as briefly and as clearly as I can, what, in the second book of this work, I promised to prove, according to the definitions which Cicero, in his books on the Commonwealth, puts into the mouth of Scipio, arguing that the Roman State was never a commonwealth; for he briefly defines a commonwealth as a state of the people; the people as an assembly of the multitude, united by a common feeling of right, and a community of interests. What he calls a common feeling of right he explains by discussion, showing in this way that a commonwealth cannot proceed without justice. Where, therefore, there is no genuine justice, there can be no right, for that which is done according to right is done justly; and what is done unjustly cannot be done according to right, for the unjust regulations of men are not to be called or thought rights; since they themselves call that right (_jus_) which flows from the source of justice: and they say that that assertion which is often made by some persons of erroneous sentiments, namely, that that is right which is advantageous to the most powerful, is false. Wherefore, where there is no true justice there can be no company of men united by a common feeling of right; therefore there can be no people (_populus_), according to that definition of Scipio or Cicero: and if there be no people, there can be no state of the people, but only of a mob such as it may be, which is not worthy of the name of a people. And thus, if a commonwealth is a state of a people, and if that is not a people which is not united by a common feeling of right, and if there is no right where there is no justice, then the undoubted inference is, that where there is no justice there is no commonwealth. Moreover, justice is that virtue which gives every one his own. 

No war can be undertaken by a just and wise state unless for faith orself-defence. This self-defence of the State is enough to insure itsperpetuity, and this perpetuity is what all patriots desire. Thoseafflictions which even the hardiest spirits smart under--poverty, exile, prison, and torment--private individuals seek to escape from byan instantaneous death. But for states, the greatest calamity of all isthat of death, which to individuals appears a refuge. A state should beso constituted as to live forever. For a commonwealth there is nonatural dissolution as there is for a man, to whom death not onlybecomes necessary, but often desirable. And when a state once decaysand falls, it is so utterly revolutionized, that, if we may comparegreat things with small, it resembles the final wreck of the universe. 

All wars undertaken without a proper motive are unjust. And no war canbe reputed just unless it be duly announced and proclaimed, and if itbe not preceded by a rational demand for restitution. 

Our Roman Commonwealth, by defending its allies, has got possession ofthe world. 

 * * * * *

INTRODUCTION TO THE FOURTH BOOK, BY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR. 

 In this fourth book Cicero treats of morals and education, and the use and abuse of stage entertainments. We retain nothing of this important book save a few scattered fragments, the beauty of which fills us with the greater regret for the passages we have lost. 

BOOK IV. 

FRAGMENTS. 

 I. * * * Since mention has been made of the body and of the mind, I will endeavor to explain the theory of each as well as the weakness of my understanding is able to comprehend it--a duty which I think it the more becoming in me to undertake, because Marcus Tullius, a man of singular genius, after having attempted to perform it in the fourth book of his treatise on the Commonwealth, compressed a subject of wide extent within narrow limits, only touching lightly on all the principal points. And that there might be no excuse alleged for his not having followed out this topic, he himself has assured us that he was not wanting either in inclination or in anxiety to do so; for, in the first book of his treatise on Laws, when he was touching briefly on the same subject, he speaks thus: "This topic Scipio, in my opinion, has sufficiently discussed in those books which you have read. "

 And the mind itself, which sees the future, remembers the past. 

 Well did Marcus Tullius say, In truth, if there is no one who would not prefer death to being changed into the form of some beast, although he were still to retain the mind of a man, how much more wretched is it to have the mind of a beast in the form of a man! To me this fate appears as much worse than the other as the mind is superior to the body. 

 Tullius says somewhere that he does not think the good of a ram and of Publius Africanus identical. 

 And also by its being interposed, it causes shade and night, which is adapted both to the numbering of days and to rest from labor. 

 And as in the autumn he has opened the earth to receive seeds, in winter relaxed it that it may digest them, and by the ripening powers of summer softened some and burned up others. 

 When the shepherds use * * * for cattle. 

 Cicero, in the fourth book of his Commonwealth, uses the word "armentum, " and "armentarius, " derived from it. 

II. The great law of just and regular subordination is the basis ofpolitical prosperity. There is much advantage in the harmonioussuccession of ranks and orders and classes, in which the suffrages ofthe knights and the senators have their due weight. Too many havefoolishly desired to destroy this institution, in the vain hope ofreceiving some new largess, by a public decree, out of a distributionof the property of the nobility. 

III. Consider, now, how wisely the other provisions have been adopted, in order to secure to the citizens the benefits of an honest and happylife; for that is, indeed, the grand object of all politicalassociation, and that which every government should endeavor to procurefor the people, partly by its institutions, and partly by its laws. 

Consider, in the first place, the national education of the people--amatter on which the Greeks have expended much labor in vain, and whichis the only point on which Polybius, who settled among us, accuses thenegligence of our institutions. For our countrymen have thought thateducation ought not to be fixed, nor regulated by laws, nor be givenpublicly and uniformly to all classes of society. For[347] * * *

 According to Tully, who says that men going to serve in the army have guardians assigned to them, by whom they are governed the first year. 

IV. [In our ancient laws, young men were prohibited from appearing]naked in the public baths, so far back were the principles of modestytraced by our ancestors. Among the Greeks, on the contrary, what anabsurd system of training youth is exhibited in their gymnasia! What afrivolous preparation for the labors and hazards of war! what indecentspectacles, what impure and licentious amours are permitted! I do notspeak only of the Eleans and Thebans, among whom, in all love affairs, passion is allowed to run into shameless excesses; but the Spartans, while they permit every kind of license to their young men, save thatof violation, fence off, by a very slight wall, the very exception onwhich they insist, besides other crimes which I will not mention. 

Then Lælius said: I see, my Scipio, that on the subject of the Greekinstitutions, which you censure, you prefer attacking the customs ofthe most renowned peoples to contending with your favorite Plato, whosename you have avoided citing, especially as * * *

 V. So that Cicero, in his treatise on the Commonwealth, says that it was a reproach to young men if they had no lovers. 

 Not only as at Sparta, where boys learn to steal and plunder. 

 And our master Plato, even more than Lycurgus, who would have everything to be common, so that no one should be able to call anything his own property. 

 I would send him to the same place whither he sends Homer, crowned with chaplets and anointed with perfumes, banishing him from the city which he is describing. 

 VI. The judgment of the censor inflicts scarcely anything more than a blush on the man whom he condemns. Therefore as all that adjudication turns solely on the name (_nomen_), the punishment is called ignominy. 

 Nor should a prefect be set over women, an officer who is created among the Greeks; but there should be a censor to teach husbands to manage their wives. 

 So the discipline of modesty has great power. All women abstain from wine. 

 And also if any woman was of bad character, her relations used not to kiss her. 

 So petulance is derived from asking (_petendo_); wantonness (_procacitas_) from _procando_, that is, from demanding. 

 VII. For I do not approve of the same nation being the ruler and the farmer of lands. But both in private families and in the affairs of the Commonwealth I look upon economy as a revenue. 

 Faith (_fides_) appears to me to derive its name from that being done (_fit_) which is said. 

 In a citizen of rank and noble birth, caressing manners, display, and ambition are marks of levity. 

 Examine for a while the books on the Republic, and learn that good men know no bound or limit in consulting the interests of their country. See in that treatise with what praises frugality, and continency, and fidelity to the marriage tie, and chaste, honorable, and virtuous manners are extolled. 

 VIII. I marvel at the elegant choice, not only of the facts, but of the language. If they dispute (_jurgant_). It is a contest between well-wishers, not a quarrel between enemies, that is called a dispute (_jurgium_), Therefore the law considers that neighbors dispute (_jurgare_) rather than quarrel (_litigare_) with one another. 

 The bounds of man's care and of man's life are the same; so by the pontifical law the sanctity of burial * * *

 They put them to death, though innocent, because they had left those men unburied whom they could not rescue from the sea because of the violence of the storm. 

 Nor in this discussion have I advocated the cause of the populace, but of the good. 

 For one cannot easily resist a powerful people if one gives them either no rights at all or very little. 

 In which case I wish I could augur first with truth and fidelity * * *

 IX. Cicero saying this in vain, when speaking of poets, "And when the shouts and approval of the people, as of some great and wise teacher, has reached them, what darkness do they bring on! what alarms do they cause! what desires do they excite!"

 Cicero says that if his life were extended to twice its length, he should not have time to read the lyric poets. 

 X. As Scipio says in Cicero, "As they thought the whole histrionic art, and everything connected with the theatre, discreditable, they thought fit that all men of that description should not only be deprived of the honors belonging to the rest of the citizens, but should also be deprived of their franchise by the sentence of the censors. "

 And what the ancient Romans thought on this subject Cicero informs us, in those books which he wrote on the Commonwealth, where Scipio argues and says * * *

Comedies could never (if it had not been authorized by the commoncustoms of life) have made theatres approve of their scandalousexhibitions. And the more ancient Greeks provided a certain correctionfor the vicious taste of the people, by making a law that it should beexpressly defined by a censorship what subjects comedy should treat, and how she should treat them. 

Whom has it not attacked? or, rather, whom has it not wounded? and whomhas it spared? In this, no doubt, it sometimes took the right side, andlashed the popular demagogues and seditious agitators, such as Cleon, Cleophon, and Hyperbolus. We may tolerate that; though indeed thecensure of the magistrate would, in these cases, have been moreefficacious than the satire of the poet. But when Pericles, whogoverned the Athenian Commonwealth for so many years with the highestauthority, both in peace and war, was outraged by verses, and thesewere acted on the stage, it was hardly more decent than if, among us, Plautus and Nævius had attacked Publius and Cnæus, or Cæcilius hadventured to revile Marcus Cato. 

Our laws of the Twelve Tables, on the contrary--so careful to attachcapital punishment to a very few crimes only--have included in thisclass of capital offences the offence of composing or publicly recitingverses of libel, slander, and defamation, in order to cast dishonor andinfamy on a fellow-citizen. And they have decided wisely; for our lifeand character should, if suspected, be submitted to the sentence ofjudicial tribunals and the legal investigations of our magistrates, andnot to the whims and fancies of poets. Nor should we be exposed to anycharge of disgrace which we cannot meet by legal process, and openlyrefute at the bar. 

In our laws, I admire the justice of their expressions, as well astheir decisions. Thus the word _pleading_ signifies rather an amicablesuit between friends than a quarrel between enemies. 

It is not easy to resist a powerful people, if you allow them norights, or next to none. 

 The old Romans would not allow any living man to be either praised or blamed on the stage. 

 XI. Cicero says that comedy is an imitation of life; a mirror of customs, an image of truth. 

 Since, as is mentioned in that book on the Commonwealth, not only did Æschines the Athenian, a man of the greatest eloquence, who, when a young man, had been an actor of tragedies, concern himself in public affairs, but the Athenians often sent Aristodemus, who was also a tragic actor, to Philip as an ambassador, to treat of the most important affairs of peace and war. 

 * * * * *

INTRODUCTION TO THE FIFTH BOOK, BY THE ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR. 

 In this fifth book Cicero explains and enforces the duties of magistrates, and the importance of practical experience to all who undertake their important functions. Only a few fragments have survived the wreck of ages and descended to us. 

BOOK V. 

FRAGMENTS. 

I. Ennius has told us--

 Of men and customs mighty Rome consists;

which verse, both for its precision and its verity, appears to me as ifit had issued from an oracle; for neither the men, unless the State hadadopted a certain system of manners--nor the manners, unless they hadbeen illustrated by the men--could ever have established or maintainedfor so many ages so vast a republic, or one of such righteous andextensive sway. 

Thus, long before our own times, the force of hereditary manners ofitself moulded most eminent men; and admirable citizens, in return, gave new weight to the ancient customs and institutions of ourancestors. But our age, on the contrary, having received theCommonwealth as a finished picture of another century, but one alreadybeginning to fade through the lapse of years, has not only neglected torenew the colors of the original painting, but has not even cared topreserve its general form and prominent lineaments. 

For what now remains of those antique manners, of which the poet saidthat our Commonwealth consisted? They have now become so obsolete andforgotten that they are not only not cultivated, but they are not evenknown. And as to the men, what shall I say? For the manners themselveshave only perished through a scarcity of men; of which great misfortunewe are not only called to give an account, but even, as men accused ofcapital offences, to a certain degree to plead our own cause inconnection with it. For it is owing to our vices, rather than to anyaccident, that we have retained the name of republic when we have longsince lost the reality. 

II. * * * There is no employment so essentially royal as the expositionof equity, which comprises the true interpretation of all laws. Thisjustice subjects used generally to expect from their kings. For thisreason, lands, fields, woods, and pastures were reserved as theproperty of kings, and cultivated for them, without any labor on theirpart, in order that no anxiety on account of their personal interestsmight distract their attention from the welfare of the State. Nor wasany private man allowed to be the judge or arbitrator in any suit; butall disputes were terminated by the royal sentence. 

And of all our Roman monarchs, Numa appears to me to have bestpreserved this ancient custom of the kings of Greece. For the others, though they also discharged this duty, were for the main part employedin conducting military enterprises, and in attending to those rightswhich belonged to war. But the long peace of Numa's reign was themother of law and religion in this city. And he was himself the authorof those admirable laws which, as you are aware, are still extant. Andthis character is precisely what belongs to the man of whom we arespeaking. * * *

III. [_Scipio. _ Ought not a farmer] to be acquainted with the nature ofplants and seeds?

_Manilius. _ Certainly, provided he attends to his practical businessalso. 

_Scipio. _ Do you think that knowledge only fit for a steward?

_Manilius. _ Certainly not, inasmuch as the cultivation of land oftenfails for want of agricultural labor. 

_Scipio. _ Therefore, as the steward knows the nature of a field, andthe scribe knows penmanship, and as both of them seek, in theirrespective sciences, not mere amusement only, but practical utility, sothis statesman of ours should have studied the science of jurisprudenceand legislation; he should have investigated their original sources;but he should not embarrass himself in debating and arguing, readingand scribbling. He should rather employ himself in the actualadministration of government, and become a sort of steward of it, beingperfectly conversant with the principles of universal law and equity, without which no man can be just: not unfamiliar with the civil laws ofstates; but he will use them for practical purposes, even as a pilotuses astronomy, and a physician natural philosophy. For both these menbring their theoretical science to bear on the practice of their arts;and our statesman [should do the same with the science of politics, andmake it subservient to the actual interests of philanthropy andpatriotism]. * * *

IV. * * * In states in which good men desire glory and approbation, andshun disgrace and ignominy. Nor are such men so much alarmed by thethreats and penalties of the law as by that sentiment of shame withwhich nature has endowed man, which is nothing else than a certain fearof deserved censure. The wise director of a government strengthens thisnatural instinct by the force of public opinion, and perfects it byeducation and manners. And thus the citizens are preserved from viceand corruption rather by honor and shame than by fear of punishment. But this argument will be better illustrated when we treat of the loveof glory and praise, which we shall discuss on another occasion. 

V. As respects the private life and the manners of the citizens, theyare intimately connected with the laws that constitute just marriagesand legitimate offspring, under the protection of the guardian deitiesaround the domestic hearths. By these laws, all men should bemaintained in their rights of public and private property. It is onlyunder a good government like this that men can live happily--fornothing can be more delightful than a well-constituted state. 

On which account it appears to me a very strange thing what this * * *

 VI. I therefore consume all my time in considering what is the power of that man, whom, as you think, we have described carefully enough in our books. Do you, then, admit our idea of that governor of a commonwealth to whom we wish to refer everything? For thus, I imagine, does Scipio speak in the fifth book: "For as a fair voyage is the object of the master of a ship, the health of his patient the aim of a physician, and victory that of a general, so the happiness of his fellow-citizens is the proper study of the ruler of a commonwealth; that they may be stable in power, rich in resources, widely known in reputation, and honorable through their virtue. For a ruler ought to be one who can perfect this, which is the best and most important employment among mankind. "

 And works in your literature rightly praise that ruler of a country who consults the welfare of his people more than their inclinations. 

 VII. Tully, in those books which he wrote upon the Commonwealth, could not conceal his opinions, when he speaks of appointing a chief of the State, who, he says, must be maintained by glory; and afterward he relates that his ancestors did many admirable and noble actions from a desire of glory. 

 Tully, in his treatise on the Commonwealth, wrote that the chief of a state must be maintained by glory, and that a commonwealth would last as long as honor was paid by every one to the chief. 

 [_The next paragraph is unintelligible. _]

 Which virtue is called fortitude, which consists of magnanimity, and a great contempt of death and pain. 

 VIII. As Marcellus was fierce, and eager to fight, Maximus prudent and cautious. 

 Who discovered his violence and unbridled ferocity. 

 Which has often happened not only to individuals, but also to most powerful nations. 

 In the whole world. 

 Because he inflicted the annoyances of his old age on your families. 

 IX. Cicero, in his treatise on the Commonwealth, says, "As Menelaus of Lacedæmon had a certain agreeable sweetness of eloquence. " And in another place he says, "Let him cultivate brevity in speaking. "

 By the evidence of which arts, as Tully says, it is a shame for the conscience of the judge to be misled. For he says, "And as nothing in a commonwealth ought to be so uncorrupt as a suffrage and a sentence, I do not see why the man who perverts them by money is worthy of punishment, while he who does so by eloquence is even praised. Indeed, I myself think that he who corrupts the judge by his speech does more harm than he who does so by money, because no one can corrupt a sensible man by money, though he may by speaking. "

 And when Scipio had said this, Mummius praised him greatly, for he was extravagantly imbued with a hatred of orators. 

 * * * * *

INTRODUCTION TO THE SIXTH BOOK. 

 In this last book of his Commonwealth, Cicero labors to show that truly pious philanthropical and patriotic statesmen will not only be rewarded on earth by the approval of conscience and the applause of all good citizens, but that they may expect hereafter immortal glory in new forms of being. To illustrate this, he introduces the "Dream of Scipio, " in which he explains the resplendent doctrines of Plato respecting the immortality of the soul with inimitable dignity and elegance. This Somnium Scipionis, for which we are indebted to the citation of Macrobius, is the most beautiful thing of the kind ever written. It has been intensely admired by all European scholars, and will be still more so. There are two translations of it in our language; one attached to Oliver's edition of Cicero's Thoughts, the other by Mr. Danby, published in 1829. Of these we have freely availed ourselves, and as freely we express our acknowledgments. 

BOOK VI. 

SCIPIO'S DREAM. 

 I. Therefore you rely upon all the prudence of this rule, which has derived its very name (_prudentia_) from foreseeing (_a providendo_). Wherefore the citizen must so prepare himself as to be always armed against those things which trouble the constitution of a state. And that dissension of the citizens, when one party separates from and attacks another, is called sedition. 

 And in truth in civil dissensions, as the good are of more importance than the many, I think that we should regard the weight of the citizens, and not their number. 

 For the lusts, being severe mistresses of the thoughts, command and compel many an unbridled action. And as they cannot be satisfied or appeased by any means, they urge those whom they have inflamed with their allurements to every kind of atrocity. 

 II. Which indeed was so much the greater in him because though the cause of the colleagues was identical, not only was their unpopularity not equal, but the influence of Gracchus was employed in mitigating the hatred borne to Claudius. 

 Who encountered the number of the chiefs and nobles with these words, and left behind him that mournful and dignified expression of his gravity and influence. 

 That, as he writes, a thousand men might every day descend into the forum with cloaks dyed in purple. 

 [_The next paragraph is unintelligible. _]

 For our ancestors wished marriages to be firmly established. 

 There is a speech extant of Lælius with which we are all acquainted, expressing how pleasing to the immortal gods are the * * * and * * * of the priests. 

 III. Cicero, writing about the Commonwealth, in imitation of Plato, has related the story of the return of Er the Pamphylian to life; who, as he says, had come to life again after he had been placed on the funeral pile, and related many secrets about the shades below; not speaking, like Plato, in a fabulous imitation of truth, but using a certain reasonable invention of an ingenious dream, cleverly intimating that these things which were uttered about the immortality of the soul, and about heaven, are not the inventions of dreaming philosophers, nor the incredible fables which the Epicureans ridicule, but the conjectures of wise men. He insinuates that that Scipio who by the subjugation of Carthage obtained Africanus as a surname for his family, gave notice to Scipio the son of Paulus of the treachery which threatened him from his relations, and the course of fate, because by the necessity of numbers he was confined in the period of a perfect life, and he says that he in the fifty-sixth year of his age * * *

 IV. Some of our religion who love Plato, on account of his admirable kind of eloquence, and of some correct opinions which he held, say that he had some opinions similar to my own touching the resurrection of the dead, which subject Tully touches on in his treatise on the Commonwealth, and says that he was rather jesting than intending to say that was true. For he asserts that a man returned to life, and related some stories which harmonized with the discussions of the Platonists. 

 V. In this point the imitation has especially preserved the likeness of the work, because, as Plato, in the conclusion of his volume, represents a certain person who had returned to life, which he appeared to have quitted, as indicating what is the condition of souls when stripped of the body, with the addition of a certain not unnecessary description of the spheres and stars, an appearance of circumstances indicating things of the same kind is related by the Scipio of Cicero, as having been brought before him in sleep. 

 VI. Tully is found to have preserved this arrangement with no less judgment than genius. After, in every condition of the Commonwealth, whether of leisure or business, he has given the palm to justice, he has placed the sacred abodes of the immortal souls, and the secrets of the heavenly regions, on the very summit of his completed work, indicating whither they must come, or rather return, who have managed the republic with prudence, justice, fortitude, and moderation. But that Platonic relater of secrets was a man of the name of Er, a Pamphylian by nation, a soldier by profession, who, after he appeared to have died from wounds received in battle, and twelve days afterward was about to receive the honors of the funeral pile with the others who were slain at the same time, suddenly either recovering his life, or else never having lost it, as if he were giving a public testimony, related to all men all that he had done or seen in the days that he had thus passed between life and death. Although Cicero, as if himself conscious of the truth, grieves that this story has been ridiculed by the ignorant, still, avoiding giving an example of foolish reproach, he preferred speaking of the relater as of one awakened from a swoon rather than restored to life. 

 VII. And before we look at the words of the dream we must explain what kind of persons they are by whom Cicero says that even the account of Plato was ridiculed, who are not apprehensive that the same thing may happen to them. Nor by this expression does he wish the ignorant mob to be understood, but a kind of men who are ignorant of the truth, though pretending to be philosophers with a display of learning, who, it was notorious, had read such things, and were eager to find faults. We will say, therefore, who they are whom he reports as having levelled light reproaches against so great a philosopher, and who of them has even left an accusation of him committed to writing, etc. The whole faction of the Epicureans, always wandering at an equal distance from truth, and thinking everything ridiculous which they do not understand, has ridiculed the sacred volume, and the most venerable mysteries of nature. But Colotes, who is somewhat celebrated and remarkable for his loquacity among the pupils of Epicurus, has even recorded in a book the bitter reproaches which he aims at him. But since the other arguments which he foolishly urges have no connection with the dream of which we are now talking, we will pass them over at present, and attend only to the calumny which will stick both to Cicero and Plato, unless it is silenced. He says that a fable ought not to have been invented by a philosopher, since no kind of falsehood is suitable to professors of truth. For why, says he, if you wish to give us a notion of heavenly things and to teach us the nature of souls, did you not do so by a simple and plain explanation? Why was a character invented, and circumstances, and strange events, and a scene of cunningly adduced falsehood arranged, to pollute the very door of the investigation of truth by a lie? Since these things, though they are said of the Platonic Er, do also attack the rest of our dreaming Africanus. 

 VIII. This occasion incited Scipio to relate his dream, which he declares that he had buried in silence for a long time. For when Lælius was complaining that there were no statues of Nasica erected in any public place, as a reward for his having slain the tyrant, Scipio replied in these words: "But although the consciousness itself of great deeds is to wise men the most ample reward of virtue, yet that divine nature ought to have, not statues fixed in lead, nor triumphs with withering laurels, but some more stable and lasting kinds of rewards. " "What are they?" said Lælius. "Then, " said Scipio, "suffer me, since we have now been keeping holiday for three days, * * * etc. " By which preface he came to the relation of his dream; pointing out that those were the more stable and lasting kinds of rewards which he himself had seen in heaven reserved for good governors of commonwealths. 

IX. When I had arrived in Africa, where I was, as you are aware, military tribune of the fourth legion under the consul Manilius, therewas nothing of which I was more earnestly desirous than to see KingMasinissa, who, for very just reasons, had been always the especialfriend of our family. When I was introduced to him, the old manembraced me, shed tears, and then, looking up to heaven, exclaimed--Ithank thee, O supreme Sun, and ye also, ye other celestial beings, thatbefore I depart from this life I behold in my kingdom, and in this mypalace, Publius Cornelius Scipio, by whose mere name I seem to bereanimated; so completely and indelibly is the recollection of thatbest and most invincible of men, Africanus, imprinted in my mind. 

After this, I inquired of him concerning the affairs of his kingdom. He, on the other hand, questioned me about the condition of ourCommonwealth, and in this mutual interchange of conversation we passedthe whole of that day. 

X. In the evening we were entertained in a manner worthy themagnificence of a king, and carried on our discourse for a considerablepart of the night. And during all this time the old man spoke ofnothing but Africanus, all whose actions, and even remarkable sayings, he remembered distinctly. At last, when we retired to bed, I fell intoa more profound sleep than usual, both because I was fatigued with myjourney, and because I had sat up the greatest part of the night. 

Here I had the following dream, occasioned, as I verily believe, by ourpreceding conversation; for it frequently happens that the thoughts anddiscourses which have employed us in the daytime produce in our sleepan effect somewhat similar to that which Ennius writes happened to himabout Homer, of whom, in his waking hours, he used frequently to thinkand speak. 

Africanus, I thought, appeared to me in that shape, with which I wasbetter acquainted from his picture than from any personal knowledge ofhim. When I perceived it was he, I confess I trembled withconsternation; but he addressed me, saying, Take courage, my Scipio; benot afraid, and carefully remember what I shall say to you. 

XI. Do you see that city Carthage, which, though brought under theRoman yoke by me, is now renewing former wars, and cannot live inpeace? (and he pointed to Carthage from a lofty spot, full of stars, and brilliant, and glittering)--to attack which city you are this dayarrived in a station not much superior to that of a private soldier. Before two years, however, are elapsed, you shall be consul, andcomplete its overthrow; and you shall obtain, by your own merit, thesurname of Africanus, which as yet belongs to you no otherwise than asderived from me. And when you have destroyed Carthage, and received thehonor of a triumph, and been made censor, and, in quality ofambassador, visited Egypt, Syria, Asia, and Greece, you shall beelected a second time consul in your absence, and, by utterlydestroying Numantia, put an end to a most dangerous war. 

But when you have entered the Capitol in your triumphal car, you shallfind the Roman Commonwealth all in a ferment, through the intrigues ofmy grandson Tiberius Gracchus. 

XII. It is on this occasion, my dear Africanus, that you show yourcountry the greatness of your understanding, capacity, and prudence. But I see that the destiny, however, of that time is, as it were, uncertain; for when your age shall have accomplished seven times eightrevolutions of the sun, and your fatal hours shall be marked put by thenatural product of these two numbers, each of which is esteemed aperfect one, but for different reasons, then shall the whole city haverecourse to you alone, and place its hopes in your auspicious name. Onyou the senate, all good citizens, the allies, the people of Latium, shall cast their eyes; on you the preservation of the State shallentirely depend. In a word, _if you escape the impious machinations ofyour relatives_, you will, in quality of dictator, establish order andtranquillity in the Commonwealth. 

When on this Lælius made an exclamation, and the rest of the companygroaned loudly, Scipio, with a gentle smile, said, I entreat you, donot wake me out of my dream, but have patience, and hear the rest. 

XIII. Now, in order to encourage you, my dear Africanus, continued theshade of my ancestor, to defend the State with the greatercheerfulness, be assured that, for all those who have in any wayconduced to the preservation, defence, and enlargement of their nativecountry, there is a certain place in heaven where they shall enjoy aneternity of happiness. For nothing on earth is more agreeable to God, the Supreme Governor of the universe, than the assemblies and societiesof men united together by laws, which are called states. It is fromheaven their rulers and preservers came, and thither they return. 

XIV. Though at these words I was extremely troubled, not so much at thefear of death as at the perfidy of my own relations, yet I recollectedmyself enough to inquire whether he himself, my father Paulus, andothers whom we look upon as dead, were really living. 

Yes, truly, replied he, they all enjoy life who have escaped from thechains of the body as from a prison. But as to what you call life onearth, that is no more than one form of death. But see; here comes yourfather Paulus towards you! And as soon as I observed him, my eyes burstout into a flood of tears; but he took me in his arms, embraced me, andbade me not weep. 

XV. When my first transports subsided, and I regained the liberty ofspeech, I addressed my father thus: Thou best and most venerable ofparents, since this, as I am informed by Africanus, is the onlysubstantial life, why do I linger on earth, and not rather haste tocome hither where you are?

That, replied he, is impossible: unless that God, whose temple is allthat vast expanse you behold, shall free you from the fetters of thebody, you can have no admission into this place. Mankind have receivedtheir being on this very condition, that they should labor for thepreservation of that globe which is situated, as you see, in the midstof this temple, and is called earth. 

Men are likewise endowed with a soul, which is a portion of the eternalfires which you call stars and constellations; and which, being round, spherical bodies, animated by divine intelligences, perform theircycles and revolutions with amazing rapidity. It is your duty, therefore, my Publius, and that of all who have any veneration for theGods, to preserve this wonderful union of soul and body; nor withoutthe express command of Him who gave you a soul should the least thoughtbe entertained of quitting human life, lest you seem to desert the postassigned you by God himself. 

But rather follow the examples of your grandfather here, and of me, your father, in paying a strict regard to justice and piety; which isdue in a great degree to parents and relations, but most of all to ourcountry. Such a life as this is the true way to heaven, and to thecompany of those, who, after having lived on earth and escaped from thebody, inhabit the place which you now behold. 

XVI. This was the shining circle, or zone, whose remarkable brightnessdistinguishes it among the constellations, and which, after the Greeks, you call the Milky Way. 

From thence, as I took a view of the universe, everything appearedbeautiful and admirable; for there those stars are to be seen that arenever visible from our globe, and everything appears of such magnitudeas we could not have imagined. The least of all the stars was thatremoved farthest from heaven, and situated next to the earth; I meanour moon, which shines with a borrowed light. Now, the globes of thestars far surpass the magnitude of our earth, which at that distanceappeared so exceedingly small that I could not but be sensibly affectedon seeing our whole empire no larger than if we touched the earth, asit were, at a single point. 

XVII. And as I continued to observe the earth with great attention, Howlong, I pray you, said Africanus, will your mind be fixed on thatobject? why don't you rather take a view of the magnificent templesamong which you have arrived? The universe is composed of nine circles, or rather spheres, one of which is the heavenly one, and is exterior toall the rest, which it embraces; being itself the Supreme God, andbounding and containing the whole. In it are fixed those stars whichrevolve with never-varying courses. Below this are seven other spheres, which revolve in a contrary direction to that of the heavens. One ofthese is occupied by the globe which on earth they call Saturn. Next tothat is the star of Jupiter, so benign and salutary to mankind. Thethird in order is that fiery and terrible planet called Mars. Belowthis, again, almost in the middle region, is the sun--the leader, governor, and prince of the other luminaries; the soul of the world, which it regulates and illumines; being of such vast size that itpervades and gives light to all places. Then follow Venus and Mercury, which attend, as it were, on the sun. Lastly, the moon, which shinesonly in the reflected beams of the sun, moves in the lowest sphere ofall. Below this, if we except that gift of the Gods, the soul, whichhas been given by the liberality of the Gods to the human race, everything is mortal, and tends to dissolution; but above the moon allis eternal. For the earth, which is the ninth globe, and occupies thecentre, is immovable, and, being the lowest, all others gravitatetowards it. 

XVIII. When I had recovered myself from the astonishment occasioned bysuch a wonderful prospect, I thus addressed Africanus: Pray what isthis sound that strikes my ears in so loud and agreeable a manner? Towhich he replied: It is that which is called the _music of thespheres_, being produced by their motion and impulse; and being formedby unequal intervals, but such as are divided according to the justestproportion, it produces, by duly tempering acute with grave sounds, various concerts of harmony. For it is impossible that motions so greatshould be performed without any noise; and it is agreeable to naturethat the extremes on one side should produce sharp, and on the otherflat sounds. For which reason the sphere of the fixed stars, being thehighest, and being carried with a more rapid velocity, moves with ashrill and acute sound; whereas that of the moon, being the lowest, moves with a very flat one. As to the earth, which makes the ninthsphere, it remains immovably fixed in the middle or lowest part of theuniverse. But those eight revolving circles, in which both Mercury andVenus are moved with the same celerity, give out sounds that aredivided by seven distinct intervals, which is generally the regulatingnumber of all things. 

This celestial harmony has been imitated by learned musicians both onstringed instruments and with the voice, whereby they have opened tothemselves a way to return to the celestial regions, as have likewisemany others who have employed their sublime genius while on earth incultivating the divine sciences. 

By the amazing noise of this sound the ears of mankind have been insome degree deafened; and indeed hearing is the dullest of all thehuman senses. Thus, the people who dwell near the cataracts of theNile, which are called Catadupa[348], are, by the excessive roar whichthat river makes in precipitating itself from those lofty mountains, entirely deprived of the sense of hearing. And so inconceivably greatis this sound which is produced by the rapid motion of the wholeuniverse, that the human ear is no more capable of receiving it thanthe eye is able to look steadfastly and directly on the sun, whosebeams easily dazzle the strongest sight. 

While I was busied in admiring the scene of wonders, I could not helpcasting my eyes every now and then on the earth. 

XIX. On which Africanus said, I perceive that you are still employed incontemplating the seat and residence of mankind. But if it appears toyou so small, as in fact it really is, despise its vanities, and fixyour attention forever on these heavenly objects. Is it possible thatyou should attain any human applause or glory that is worth thecontending for? The earth, you see, is peopled but in a very fewplaces, and those, too, of small extent; and they appear like so manylittle spots of green scattered through vast, uncultivated deserts. Andthose who inhabit the earth are not only so remote from each other asto be cut off from all mutual correspondence, but their situation beingin oblique or contrary parts of the globe, or perhaps in thosediametrically opposite to yours, all expectation of universal fame mustfall to the ground. 

XX. You may likewise observe that the same globe of the earth is girtand surrounded with certain zones, whereof those two that are mostremote from each other, and lie under the opposite poles of heaven, arecongealed with frost; but that one in the middle, which is far thelargest, is scorched with the intense heat of the sun. The other twoare habitable, one towards the south, the inhabitants of which are yourantipodes, with whom you have no connection; the other, towards thenorth, is that which you inhabit, whereof a very small part, as you maysee, falls to your share. For the whole extent of what you see is, asit were, but a little island, narrow at both ends and wide in themiddle, which is surrounded by the sea which on earth you call thegreat Atlantic Ocean, and which, notwithstanding this magnificent name, you see is very insignificant. And even in these cultivated andwell-known countries, has yours, or any of our names, ever passed theheights of the Caucasus or the currents of the Ganges? In what otherparts to the north or the south, or where the sun rises and sets, willyour names ever be heard? And if we leave these out of the question, how small a space is there left for your glory to spread itself abroad;and how long will it remain in the memory of those whose minds are nowfull of it?

XXI. Besides all this, if the progeny of any future generation shouldwish to transmit to their posterity the praises of any one of us whichthey have heard from their forefathers, yet the deluges and combustionsof the earth, which must necessarily happen at their destined periods, will prevent our obtaining, not only an eternal, but even a durableglory. And, after all, what does it signify whether those who shallhereafter be born talk of you, when those who have lived before you, whose number was perhaps not less, and whose merit certainly greater, were not so much as acquainted with your name?

XXII. Especially since not one of those who shall hear of us is able toretain in his memory the transactions of a single year. The bulk ofmankind, indeed, measure their year by the return of the sun, which isonly one star. But when all the stars shall have returned to the placewhence they set out, and after long periods shall again exhibit thesame aspect of the whole heavens, that is what ought properly to becalled the revolution of a year, though I scarcely dare attempt toenumerate the vast multitude of ages contained in it. For as the sun inold time was eclipsed, and seemed to be extinguished, at the time whenthe soul of Romulus penetrated into these eternal mansions, so, whenall the constellations and stars shall revert to their primaryposition, and the sun shall at the same point and time be againeclipsed, then you may consider that the grand year is completed. Beassured, however, that the twentieth part of it is not yet elapsed. 

XXIII. Wherefore, if you have no hopes of returning to this place wheregreat and good men enjoy all that their souls can wish for, of whatvalue, pray, is all that human glory, which can hardly endure for asmall portion of one year?

If, then, you wish to elevate your views to the contemplation of thiseternal seat of splendor, you will not be satisfied with the praises ofyour fellow-mortals, nor with any human rewards that your exploits canobtain; but Virtue herself must point out to you the true and onlyobject worthy of your pursuit. Leave to others to speak of you as theymay, for speak they will. Their discourses will be confined to thenarrow limits of the countries you see, nor will their duration be veryextensive; for they will perish like those who utter them, and will beno more remembered by their posterity. 

XXIV. When he had ceased to speak in this manner, I said, O Africanus, if indeed the door of heaven is open to those who have deserved well oftheir country, although, indeed, from my childhood I have alwaysfollowed yours and my father's steps, and have not neglected to imitateyour glory, still, I will from henceforth strive to follow them moreclosely. 

Follow them, then, said he, and consider your body only, not yourself, as mortal. For it is not your outward form which constitutes yourbeing, but your mind; not that substance which is palpable to thesenses, but your spiritual nature. _Know, then, that you are aGod_--for a God it must be, which flourishes, and feels, andrecollects, and foresees, and governs, regulates and moves the bodyover which it is set, as the Supreme Ruler does the world which issubject to him. For as that Eternal Being moves whatever is mortal inthis world, so the immortal mind of man moves the frail body with whichit is connected. 

XXV. For whatever is always moving must be eternal; but that whichderives its motion from a power which is foreign to itself, when thatmotion ceases must itself lose its animation. 

That alone, then, which moves itself can never cease to be moved, because it can never desert itself. Moreover, it must be the source, and origin, and principle of motion in all the rest. There can benothing prior to a principle, for all things must originate from it;and it cannot itself derive its existence from any other source, for ifit did it would no longer be a principle. And if it had no beginning, it can have no end; for a beginning that is put an end to will neitherbe renewed by any other cause, nor will it produce anything else ofitself. All things, therefore, must originate from one source. Thus itfollows that motion must have its source in something which is moved byitself, and which can neither have a beginning nor an end. Otherwiseall the heavens and all nature must perish, for it is impossible thatthey can of themselves acquire any power of producing motion inthemselves. 

XXVI. As, therefore, it is plain that what is moved by itself must beeternal, who will deny that this is the general condition and nature ofminds? For as everything is inanimate which is moved by an impulseexterior to itself, so what is animated is moved by an interior impulseof its own; for this is the peculiar nature and power of mind. And ifthat alone has the power of self-motion, it can neither have had abeginning, nor can it have an end. 

Do you, therefore, exercise this mind of yours in the best pursuits. And the best pursuits are those which consist in promoting the good ofyour country. Such employments will speed the flight of your mind tothis its proper abode; and its flight will be still more rapid, if, even while it is enclosed in the body, it will look abroad, anddisengage itself as much as possible from its bodily dwelling, by thecontemplation of things which are external to itself. 

This it should do to the utmost of its power. For the minds of thosewho have given themselves up to the pleasures of the body, paying, asit were, a servile obedience to their lustful impulses, have violatedthe laws of God and man; and therefore, when they are separated fromtheir bodies, flutter continually round the earth on which they lived, and are not allowed to return to this celestial region till they havebeen purified by the revolution of many ages. 

Thus saying, he vanished, and I awoke from my dream. 

A FRAGMENT. 

And although it is most desirable that fortune should remain forever inthe most brilliant possible condition, nevertheless, the equability oflife excites less interest than those changeable conditions whereinprosperity suddenly revives out of the most desperate and ruinouscircumstances. 

THE END. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Archilochus was a native of Paros, and flourished about 714-676B. C. His poems were chiefly Iambics of bitter satire. Horace speaks ofhim as the inventor of Iambics, and calls himself his pupil. 

 Parios ego primus Iambos Ostendi Latio, numeros animosque secutus Archilochi, non res et agentia verba Lycamben. Epist. I. Xix. 25. 

And in another place he says, Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Iambo--A. P. 74. 

[2] This was Livius Andronicus: he is supposed to have been a native ofTarentum, and he was made prisoner by the Romans, during their wars inSouthern Italy; owing to which he became the slave of M. LiviusSalinator. He wrote both comedies and tragedies, of which Cicero(Brutus 18) speaks very contemptuously, as "Livianæ fabulæ non satisdignæ quæ iterum legantur"--not worth reading a second time. He alsowrote a Latin Odyssey, and some hymns, and died probably about 221 B. C. 

[3] C. Fabius, surnamed Pictor, painted the temple of Salus, which thedictator C. Junius Brutus Bubulus dedicated 302 B. C. The temple wasdestroyed by fire in the reign of Claudius. The painting is highlypraised by Dionysius, xvi. 6. 

[4] For an account of the ancient Greek philosophers, see the sketch atthe end of the Disputations. 

[5] Isocrates was born at Athens 436 B. C. He was a pupil of Gorgias, Prodicus, and Socrates. He opened a school of rhetoric, at Athens, withgreat success. He died by his own hand at the age of ninety-eight. 

[6] So Horace joins these two classes as inventors of all kinds ofimprobable fictions:

 Pictoribus atque poetis Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas. --A. P. 9. 

Which Roscommon translates:

 Painters and poets have been still allow'd Their pencil and their fancies unconfined. 

[7] Epicharmus was a native of Cos, but lived at Megara, in Sicily, andwhen Megara was destroyed, removed to Syracuse, and lived at the courtof Hiero, where he became the first writer of comedies, so that Horaceascribes the invention of comedy to him, and so does Theocritus. Helived to a great age. 

[8] Pherecydes was a native of Scyros, one of the Cyclades; and is saidto have obtained his knowledge from the secret books of thePhoenicians. He is said also to have been a pupil of Pittacus, therival of Thales, and the master of Pythagoras. His doctrine was thatthere were three principles ([Greek: Zeus], or Æther; [Greek: Chthôn], or Chaos; and [Greek: Chronos], or Time) and four elements (Fire, Earth, Air, and Water), from which everything that exists wasformed. --_Vide_ Smith's Dict. Gr. And Rom. Biog. 

[9] Archytas was a native of Tarentum, and is said to have saved thelife of Plato by his influence with the tyrant Dionysius. He wasespecially great as a mathematician and geometrician, so that Horacecalls him

 Maris et terra numeroque carentis arenæ Mensorem. Od. I. 28. 1. 

Plato is supposed to have learned some of his views from him, andAristotle to have borrowed from him every idea of the Categories. 

[10] This was not Timæus the historian, but a native of Locri, who issaid also in the De Finibus (c. 29) to have been a teacher of Plato. There is a treatise extant bearing his name, which is, however, probably spurious, and only an abridgment of Plato's dialogue Timæus. 

[11] Dicæarchus was a native of Messana, in Sicily, though he livedchiefly in Greece. He was one of the later disciples of Aristotle. Hewas a great geographer, politician, historian, and philosopher, anddied about 285 B. C. 

[12] Aristoxenus was a native of Tarentum, and also a pupil ofAristotle. We know nothing of his opinions except that he held the soulto be a _harmony_ of the body; a doctrine which had been alreadydiscussed by Plato in the Phædo, and combated by Aristotle. He was agreat musician, and the chief portions of his works which have comedown to us are fragments of some musical treatises. --Smith's Dict. Gr. And Rom. Biog. ; to which source I must acknowledge my obligation fornearly the whole of these biographical notes. 

[13] The Simonides here meant is the celebrated poet of Ceos, theperfecter of elegiac poetry among the Greeks. He flourished about thetime of the Persian war. Besides his poetry, he is said to have beenthe inventor of some method of aiding the memory. He died at the courtof Hiero, 467 B. C. 

[14] Theodectes was a native of Phaselis, in Pamphylia, a distinguishedrhetorician and tragic poet, and flourished in the time of Philip ofMacedon. He was a pupil of Isocrates, and lived at Athens, and diedthere at the age of forty-one. 

[15] Cineas was a Thessalian, and (as is said in the text) came to Romeas ambassador from Pyrrhus after the battle of Heraclea, 280 B. C. , andhis memory is said to have been so great that on the day after hisarrival he was able to address all the senators and knights by name. Heprobably died before Pyrrhus returned to Italy, 276 B. C. 

[16] Charmadas, called also Charmides, was a fellow-pupil with Philo, the Larissæan of Clitomachus, the Carthaginian. He is said by someauthors to have founded a fourth academy. 

[17] Metrodorus was a minister of Mithridates the Great; and employedby him as supreme judge in Pontus, and afterward as an ambassador. Cicero speaks of him in other places (De Orat. Ii. 88) as a man ofwonderful memory. 

[18] Quintus Hortensius was eight years older than Cicero; and, tillCicero's fame surpassed his, he was accounted the most eloquent of allthe Romans. He was Verres's counsel in the prosecution conductedagainst him by Cicero. Seneca relates that his memory was so great thathe could come out of an auction and repeat the catalogue backward. Hedied 50 B. C. 

[19] This treatise is one which has not come down to us, but which hadbeen lately composed by Cicero in order to comfort himself for the lossof his daughter. 

[20] The epigram is, [Greek: Eipas Hêlie chaire, Kleombrotos Hômbrakiôtês hêlat' aph' hypsêlou teicheos eis Aidên, axion ouden idôn thanatou kakon, alla Platônos hen to peri psychês gramm' analexamenos. ]

Which may be translated, perhaps, Farewell, O sun, Cleombrotus exclaim'd, Then plunged from off a height beneath the sea; Stung by pain, of no disgrace ashamed, But moved by Plato's high philosophy. 

[21] This is alluded to by Juvenal:

 Provida Pompeio dederat Campania febres Optandas: sed multæ urbes et publica vota Vicerunt. Igitur Fortuna ipsius et Urbis, Servatum victo caput abstulit. --Sat. X. 283. 

[22] Pompey's second wife was Julia, the daughter of Julius Cæsar, shedied the year before the death of Crassus, in Parthia. Virgil speaks ofCæsar and Pompey as relations, using the same expression (socer) asCicero:

 Aggeribus socer Alpinis atque arce Monoeci Descendens, gener adversis instructus Eois. --Æn. Vi. 830. 

[23] This idea is beautifully expanded by Byron:

 Yet if, as holiest men have deem'd, there be A land of souls beyond that sable shore To shame the doctrine of the Sadducee And sophist, madly vain or dubious lore, How sweet it were in concert to adore With those who made our mortal labors light, To hear each voice we fear'd to hear no more. Behold each mighty shade reveal'd to sight, The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the right! _Childe Harold_, ii. 

[24] The epitaph in the original is:

 [Greek: Ô xein' angeilon Lakedaimoniois hoti têde keimetha, tois keinôn peithomenoi nomimois. ]

[25] This was expressed in the Greek verses, [Greek: Archês men mê phynai epichthonioisin ariston, phynta d' hopôs ôkista pylas Aidyo perêsai]

which by some authors are attributed to Homer. 

[26] This is the first fragment of the Cresphontes. --Ed. Var. Vii. , p. 594. 

 [Greek: Edei gar hêmas syllogon poioumenous Ton phynta thrênein, eis hos' erchetai kaka. Ton d' au thanonta kai ponôn pepaumenon chairontas euphêmointas ekpemein domôn]

[27] The Greek verses are quoted by Plutarch:

 [Greek: Êpou nêpie, êlithioi phrenes andrôn Euthynoos keitai moiridiô thanatô Ouk ên gar zôein kalon autô oute goneusi. ]

[28] This refers to the story that when Eumolpus, the son of Neptune, whose assistance the Eleusinians had called in against the Athenians, had been slain by the Athenians, an oracle demanded the sacrifice ofone of the daughters of Erechtheus, the King of Athens. And when onewas drawn by lot, the others voluntarily accompanied her to death. 

[29] Menoeceus was son of Creon, and in the war of the Argives againstThebes, Teresias declared that the Thebans should conquer if Menoeceuswould sacrifice himself for his country; and accordingly he killedhimself outside the gates of Thebes. 

[30] The Greek is, [Greek: mêde moi aklaustos thanatos moloi, alla philoisi poiêsaimi thanôn algea kai stonachas. ]

[31] Soph. Trach. 1047. 

[32] The lines quoted by Cicero here appear to have come from the Latinplay of Prometheus by Accius; the ideas are borrowed, rather thantranslated, from the Prometheus of Æschylus. 

[33] From _exerceo_. 

[34] Each soldier carried a stake, to help form a palisade in front ofthe camp. 

[35] Insania--from _in_, a particle of negative force in composition, and _sanus_, healthy, sound. 

[36] The man who first received this surname was L. Calpurnius Piso, who was consul, 133 B. C. , in the Servile War. 

[37] The Greek is, [Greek: Alla moi oidanetai kradiê cholô hoppot' ekeinou Mnêsomai hos m' asyphêlon en Argeioisin erexen. ]--Il. Ix. 642. 

I have given Pope's translation in the text. 

[38] This is from the Theseus:

 [Greek: Egô de touto para sophou tinos mathôn eis phrontidas noun symphoras t' eballomên phygas t' emautô prostitheis patras emês. Thanatous t' aôrous, kai kakôn allas hodous hôs, ei ti paschoim' ôn edoxazon pote Mê moi neorton prospeson mallon dakoi. ]

[39] Ter. Phorm. II. I. 11. 

[40] This refers to the speech of Agamemnon in Euripides, in theIphigenia in Aulis, [Greek: Zêlô se, geron, zêlô d' andrôn hos akindynon bion exeperas', agnôs, akleês. ]--v. 15. 

[41] This is a fragment from the Hypsipyle:

 [Greek: Ephy men oudeis hostis ou ponei brotôn thaptei te tekna chater' au ktatai nea, autos te thnêskei. Kai tad' achthontai brotoi eis gên pherontes gên anankaiôs d' echei bion therizein hôste karpimon stachyn. ]

[42] [Greek: Pollas ek kephalês prothelymnous helketo chaitas. ]--Il. X. 15. 

[43] [Greek: Êtoi ho kappedion to Alêion oios alato hon thymon katedôn, paton anthrôpôn aleeinôn. ]--Il. Vi. 201. 

[44] This is a translation from Euripides:

 [Greek: Hôsth' himeros m' hypêlthe gê te k' ouranô lexai molousê deuro Mêdeias tychas. ]--Med. 57. 

[45] [Greek: Liên gar polloi kai epêtrimoi êmata panta piptousin, pote ken tis anapneuseie ponoio; alla chrê ton men katathaptemen, hos ke thanêsi, nêlea thymon echontas, ep' êmati dakrysantas. ]-- Hom. Il. Xix. 226. 

[46] This is one of the fragments of Euripides which we are unable toassign to any play in particular; it occurs Var. Ed. Tr. Inc. 167. 

 [Greek: Ei men tod' êmar prôton ên kakoumenô kai mê makran dê dia ponôn enaustoloun eikos sphadazein ên an, hôs neozyga pôlon, chalinon artiôs dedegmenon nyn d' amblys eimi, kai katêrtykôs kakôn. ]

[47] This is only a fragment, preserved by Stobæus:

 [Greek: Tous d' an megistous kai sophôtatous phreni toiousd' idois an, oios esti nyn hode, kalôs kakôs prassonti symparainesai hotan de daimôn andros eutychous to prin mastig' episê tou biou palintropon, ta polla phrouda kai kakôs eirêmena. ]

[48] [Greek: Ôk. Oukoun Promêtheu touto gignôskeis hoti orgês nosousês eisin iatroi logoi. Pr. Ean tis en kairô ge malthassê kear kai mê sphrigônta thymon ischnainê bia. ]-- Æsch. Prom. V. 378. 

[49] Cicero alludes here to Il. Vii. 211, which is thus translated byPope:

 His massy javelin quivering in his hand, He stood the bulwark of the Grecian band; Through every Argive heart new transport ran, All Troy stood trembling at the mighty man: E'en Hector paused, and with new doubt oppress'd, Felt his great heart suspended in his breast; 'Twas vain to seek retreat, and vain to fear, Himself had challenged, and the foe drew near. 

But Melmoth (Note on the Familiar Letters of Cicero, book ii. Let. 23)rightly accuses Cicero of having misunderstood Homer, who "by no meansrepresents Hector as being thus totally dismayed at the approach of hisadversary; and, indeed, it would have been inconsistent with thegeneral character of that hero to have described him under suchcircumstances of terror. "

 [Greek: Ton de kai Argeioi meg' egêtheon eisoroôntes, Trôas de tromos ainos hypêlythe gyia hekaston, Hektori d' autô thymos eni stêthessi patassen. ]

But there is a great difference, as Dr. Clarke remarks, between [Greek:thymos eni stêthessi patassen] and [Greek: kardeê exô stêtheônethrôsken], or [Greek: tromos ainos hypêlythe gyia]. --_The Trojans_, says Homer, _trembled_ at the sight of Ajax, and even Hector himselffelt some emotion in his breast. 

[50] Cicero means Scipio Nasica, who, in the riots consequent on thereelection of Tiberius Gracchus to the tribunate, 133 B. C. , havingcalled in vain on the consul, Mucius Scævola, to save the republic, attacked Gracchus himself, who was slain in the tumult. 

[51] _Morosus_ is evidently derived from _mores_--"_Morosus_, _mos_, stubbornness, self-will, etc. "--Riddle and Arnold, Lat. Dict. 

[52] In the original they run thus:

 [Greek: Ouk estin ouden deinon hôd' eipein epos, Oude pathos, oude xymphora theêlatos hês ouk an aroit' achthos anthrôpon physis. ]

[53] This passage is from the Eunuch of Terence, act i. , sc. 1, 14. 

[54] These verses are from the Atreus of Accius. 

[55] This was Marcus Atilius Regulus, the story of whose treatment bythe Carthaginians in the first Punic War is well known to everybody. 

[56] This was Quintus Servilius Cæpio, who, 105 B. C. , was destroyed, with his army, by the Cimbri, it was believed as a judgment for thecovetousness which he had displayed in the plunder of Tolosa. 

[57] This was Marcus Aquilius, who, in the year 88 B. C. , was sentagainst Mithridates as one of the consular legates; and, beingdefeated, was delivered up to the king by the inhabitants of Mitylene. Mithridates put him to death by pouring molten gold down his throat. 

[58] This was the elder brother of the triumvir Marcus Crassus, 87 B. C. He was put to death by Fimbria, who was in command of some of thetroops of Marius. 

[59] Lucius Cæsar and Caius Cæsar were relations (it is uncertain inwhat degree) of the great Cæsar, and were killed by Fimbria on the sameoccasion as Octavius. 

[60] M. Antonius was the grandfather of the triumvir; he was murderedthe same year, 87 B. C. , by Annius, when Marius and Cinna took Rome. 

[61] This story is alluded to by Horace:

 Districtus ensis cui super impiâ Cervice pendet non Siculæ dapes Dulcem elaborabunt saporem, Non avium citharæve cantus Somnum reducent. --iii. 1. 17. 

[62] Hieronymus was a Rhodian, and a pupil of Aristotle, flourishingabout 300 B. C. He is frequently mentioned by Cicero. 

[63] We know very little of Dinomachus. Some MSS. Have Clitomachus. 

[64] Callipho was in all probability a pupil of Epicurus, but we haveno certain information about him. 

[65] Diodorus was a Syrian, and succeeded Critolaus as the head of thePeripatetic School at Athens. 

[66] Aristo was a native of Ceos, and a pupil of Lycon, who succeededStraton as the head of the Peripatetic School, 270 B. C. He afterwardhimself succeeded Lycon. 

[67] Pyrrho was a native of Elis, and the originator of the scepticaltheories of some of the ancient philosophers. He was a contemporary ofAlexander. 

[68] Herillus was a disciple of Zeno of Cittium, and therefore a Stoic. He did not, however, follow all the opinions of his master: he heldthat knowledge was the chief good. Some of the treatises of Cleantheswere written expressly to confute him. 

[69] Anacharsis was (Herod. , iv. , 76) son of Gnurus and brother ofSaulius, King of Thrace. He came to Athens while Solon was occupied inframing laws for his people; and by the simplicity of his way ofliving, and his acute observations on the manners of the Greeks, heexcited such general admiration that he was reckoned by some writersamong the Seven Wise Men of Greece. 

[70] This was Appius Claudius Cæcus, who was censor 310 B. C. , and who, according to Livy, was afflicted with blindness by the Gods forpersuading the Potitii to instruct the public servants in the way ofsacrificing to Hercules. He it was who made the Via Appia. 

[71] The fact of Homer's blindness rests on a passage in the Hymn toApollo, quoted by Thucydides as a genuine work of Homer, and which isthus spoken of by one of the most accomplished scholars that thiscountry or this age has ever produced: "They are indeed beautifulverses; and if none worse had ever been attributed to Homer, the Princeof Poets would have had little reason to complain. 

"He has been describing the Delian festival in honor of Apollo andDiana, and concludes this part of the poem with an address to the womenof that island, to whom it is to be supposed that he had becomefamiliarly known by his frequent recitations:

 [Greek: Chairete d' hymeis pasai, emeio de kai metopisthe mnêsasth', hoppote ken tis epichthoniôn anthrôpôn enthad' aneirêtai xeinos talapeirios elthôn ô kourai, tis d' hymmin anêr hêdistos aoidôn enthade pôleitai kai teô terpesthe malista; hymeis d' eu mala pasai hypokrinasthe aph' hêmôn, Typhlos anêr, oikei de Chiô eni paipaloessê, tou pasai metopisthen aristeuousin aoidai. ]

 Virgins, farewell--and oh! remember me Hereafter, when some stranger from the sea, A hapless wanderer, may your isle explore, And ask you, 'Maids, of all the bards you boast, Who sings the sweetest, and delights you most?' Oh! answer all, 'A blind old man, and poor, Sweetest he sings, and dwells on Chios' rocky shore. '

 _Coleridge's Introduction to the Study of the Greek Classic Poets. _

[72] Some read _scientiam_ and some _inscientiam;_ the latter of whichis preferred by some of the best editors and commentators. 

[73] For a short account of these ancient Greek philosophers, see thesketch prefixed to the Academics (_Classical Library_). 

[74] Cicero wrote his philosophical works in the last three years ofhis life. When he wrote this piece, he was in the sixty-third year ofhis age, in the year of Rome 709. 

[75] The Academic. 

[76] Diodorus and Posidonius were Stoics; Philo and Antiochus wereAcademics; but the latter afterward inclined to the doctrine of theStoics. 

[77] Julius Cæsar. 

[78] Cicero was one of the College of Augurs. 

[79] The Latinæ Feriæ was originally a festival of the Latins, alteredby Tarquinius Superbus into a Roman one. It was held in the AlbanMount, in honor of Jupiter Latiaris. This holiday lasted six days: itwas not held at any fixed time; but the consul was never allowed totake the field till he had held them. --_Vide_ Smith, Dict. Gr. And Rom. Ant. , p. 414. 

[80] _Exhedra_, the word used by Cicero, means a study, or place wheredisputes were held. 

[81] M. Piso was a Peripatetic. The four great sects were the Stoics, the Peripatetics, the Academics, and the Epicureans. 

[82] It was a prevailing tenet of the Academics that there is nocertain knowledge. 

[83] The five forms of Plato are these: [Greek: ousia, tauton, heteron, stasis, kinêsis. ]

[84] The four natures here to be understood are the fourelements--fire, water, air, and earth; which are mentioned as the fourprinciples of Empedocles by Diogenes Laertius. 

[85] These five moving stars are Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Mercury, andVenus. Their revolutions are considered in the next book. 

[86] Or, Generation of the Gods. 

[87] The [Greek: prolêpsis] of Epicurus, before mentioned, is what hehere means. 

[88] [Greek: Steremnia] is the word which Epicurus used to distinguishbetween those objects which are perceptible to sense, and those whichare imperceptible; as the essence of the Divine Being, and the variousoperations of the divine power. 

[89] Zeno here mentioned is not the same that Cotta spoke of before. This was the founder of the Stoics. The other was an Epicureanphilosopher whom he had heard at Athens. 

[90] That is, there would be the same uncertainty in heaven as is amongthe Academics. 

[91] Those nations which were neither Greek nor Roman. 

[92] _Sigilla numerantes_ is the common reading; but P. Manuciusproposes _venerantes_, which I choose as the better of the two, and inwhich sense I have translated it. 

[93] Fundamental doctrines. 

[94] That is, the zodiac. 

[95] The moon, as well as the sun, is indeed in the zodiac, but shedoes not measure the same course in a month. She moves in another lineof the zodiac nearer the earth. 

[96] According to the doctrines of Epicurus, none of these bodiesthemselves are clearly seen, but _simulacra ex corporibus effluentia_. 

[97] Epicurus taught his disciples in a garden. 

[98] By the word _Deus_, as often used by our author, we are tounderstand all the Gods in that theology then treated of, and not asingle personal Deity. 

[99] The best commentators on this passage agree that Cicero does notmean that Aristotle affirmed that there was no such person as Orpheus, but that there was no such poet, and that the verse called Orphic wassaid to be the invention of another. The passage of Aristotle to whichCicero here alludes has, as Dr. Davis observes, been long lost. 

[100] A just proportion between the different sorts of beings. 

[101] Some give _quos non pudeat earum Epicuri vocum;_ but the bestcopies have not _non;_ nor would it be consistent with Cotta to say_quos non pudeat_, for he throughout represents Velleius as a perfectEpicurean in every article. 

[102] His country was Abdera, the natives of which were remarkable fortheir stupidity. 

[103] This passage will not admit of a translation answerable to thesense of the original. Cicero says the word _amicitia_ (friendship) isderived from _amor_ (love or affection). 

[104] This manner of speaking of Jupiter frequently occurs in Homer, ----[Greek: patêr andrôn te theôn te, ]

and has been used by Virgil and other poets since Ennius. 

[105] Perses, or Perseus, the last king of Macedonia, was taken byCnæus Octavius, the prætor, and brought as prisoner to Paullus Æmilius, 167 B. C. 

[106] An exemption from serving in the wars, and from paying publictaxes. 

[107] Mopsus. There were two soothsayers of this name: the first wasone of the Lapithæ, son of Ampycus and Chloris, called also the son ofApollo and Hienantis; the other a son of Apollo and Manto, who is saidto have founded Mallus, in Asia Minor, where his oracle existed as lateas the time of Strabo. 

[108] Tiresias was the great Theban prophet at the time of the war ofthe Seven against Thebes. 

[109] Amphiaraus was King of Argos (he had been one of the Argonautsalso). He was killed after the war of the Seven against Thebes, whichhe was compelled to join in by the treachery of his wife Eriphyle, bythe earth opening and swallowing him up as he was fleeing fromPericlymenus. 

[110] Calchas was the prophet of the Grecian army at the siege of Troy. 

[111] Helenus was a son of Priam and Hecuba. He is represented as aprophet in the Philoctetes of Sophocles. And in the Æneid he is alsorepresented as king of part of Epirus, and as predicting to Æneas thedangers and fortunes which awaited him. 

[112] This short passage would be very obscure to the reader without anexplanation from another of Cicero's treatises. The expression here, _ad investigandum suem regiones vineæ terminavit_, which is a metaphortoo bold, if it was not a sort of augural language, seems to me to havebeen the effect of carelessness in our great author; for Navius did notdivide the regions, as he calls them, of the vine to find his sow, butto find a grape. 

[113] The Peremnia were a sort of auspices performed just before thepassing a river. 

[114] The Acumina were a military auspices, and were partly performedon the point of a spear, from which they were called Acumina. 

[115] Those were called _testamenta in procinctu_, which were made bysoldiers just before an engagement, in the presence of men called aswitnesses. 

[116] This especially refers to the Decii, one of whom devoted himselffor his country in the war with the Latins, 340 B. C. , and his sonimitated the action in the war with the Samnites, 295 B. C. Cicero(Tusc. I. 37) says that his son did the same thing in the war withPyrrhus at the battle of Asculum, though in other places (De Off. Iii. 4) he speaks of only two Decii as having signalized themselves in thismanner. 

[117] The Rogator, who collected the votes, and pronounced who was theperson chosen. There were two sorts of Rogators; one was the officerhere mentioned, and the other was the Rogator, or speaker of the wholeassembly. 

[118] Which was Sardinia, as appears from one of Cicero's epistles tohis brother Quintus. 

[119] Their sacred books of ceremonies. 

[120] The war between Octavius and Cinna, the consuls. 

[121] This, in the original, is a fragment of an old Latin verse, _----Terram fumare calentem. _

[122] The Latin word is _principatus_, which exactly corresponds withthe Greek word here used by Cicero; by which is to be understood thesuperior, the most prevailing excellence in every kind and species ofthings through the universe. 

[123] The passage of Aristotle to which Cicero here refers is lost. 

[124] He means the Epicureans. 

[125] Here the Stoic speaks too plain to be misunderstood. His world, his _mundus_, is the universe, and that universe is his great Deity, _in quo sit totius naturæ principatus_, in which the superiorexcellence of universal nature consists. 

[126] Athens, the seat of learning and politeness, of which Balbus willnot allow Epicurus to be worthy. 

[127] This is Pythagoras's doctrine, as appears in Diogenes Laertius. 

[128] He here alludes to mathematical and geometrical instruments. 

[129] Balbus here speaks of the fixed stars, and of the motions of theorbs of the planets. He here alludes, says M. Bonhier, to the differentand diurnal motions of these stars; one sort from east to west, theother from one tropic to the other: and this is the construction whichour learned and great geometrician and astronomer, Dr. Halley, made ofthis passage. 

[130] This mensuration of the year into three hundred and sixty-fivedays and near six hours (by the odd hours and minutes of which, inevery fifth year, the _dies intercalaris_, or leap-year, is made) couldnot but be known, Dr. Halley states, by Hipparchus, as appears from theremains of that great astronomer of the ancients. We are inclined tothink that Julius Cæsar had divided the year, according to what we callthe Julian year, before Cicero wrote this book; for we see, in thebeginning of it, how pathetically he speaks of Cæsar's usurpation. 

[131] The words of Censorinus, on this occasion, are to the sameeffect. The opinions of philosophers concerning this great year arevery different; but the institution of it is ascribed to Democritus. 

[132] The zodiac. 

[133] Though Mars is said to hold his orbit in the zodiac with therest, and to finish his revolution through the same orbit (that is, thezodiac) with the other two, yet Balbus means in a different line of thezodiac. 

[134] According to late observations, it never goes but a sign and ahalf from the sun. 

[135] These, Dr. Davis says, are "aërial fires;" concerning which herefers to the second book of Pliny. 

[136] In the Eunuch of Terence. 

[137] Bacchus. 

[138] The son of Ceres. 

[139] The books of Ceremonies. 

[140] This Libera is taken for Proserpine, who, with her brother Liber, was consecrated by the Romans; all which are parts of nature inprosopopoeias. Cicero, therefore, makes Balbus distinguish between theperson Liber, or Bacchus, and the Liber which is a part of nature inprosopopoeia. 

[141] These allegorical fables are largely related by Hesiod in hisTheogony. 

Horace says exactly the same thing:

 Hâc arte Pollux et vagus Hercules Enisus arces attigit igneas: Quos inter Augustus recumbens Purpureo bibit ore nectar. Hâc te merentem, Bacche pater, tuæ Vexere tigres indocili jugum Collo ferentes: hâc Quirinus Martis equis Acheronta fugit. --Hor. Iii. 3. 9. 

[142] Cicero means by _conversis casibus_, varying the cases from thecommon rule of declension; that is, by departing from the truegrammatical rules of speech; for if we would keep to it, we shoulddecline the word _Jupiter_, _Jupiteris_ in the second case, etc. 

[143] _Pater divûmque hominumque. _

[144] The common reading is, _planiusque alio loco idem;_ which, as Dr. Davis observes, is absurd; therefore, in his note, he prefers _planiusquam alia loco idem_, from two copies, in which sense I have translatedit. 

[145] From the verb _gero_, to bear. 

[146] That is, "mother earth. "

[147] Janus is said to be the first who erected temples in Italy, andinstituted religious rites, and from whom the first month in the Romancalendar is derived. 

[148] _Stellæ vagantes. _

[149] _Noctu quasi diem efficeret. _ Ben Jonson says the same thing:

 Thou that mak'st a day of night, Goddess excellently bright. --_Ode to the Moon. _

[150] Olympias was the mother of Alexander. 

[151] Venus is here said to be one of the names of Diana, because _adres omnes veniret;_ but she is not supposed to be the same as themother of Cupid. 

[152] Here is a mistake, as Fulvius Ursinus observes; for the discourseseems to be continued in one day, as appears from the beginning of thisbook. This may be an inadvertency of Cicero. 

[153] The senate of Athens was so called from the words [Greek: AreiosPagos], the Village, some say the Hill, of Mars. 

[154] Epicurus. 

[155] The Stoics. 

[156] By _nulla cohærendi natura_--if it is the right, as it is thecommon reading--Cicero must mean the same as by _nulla crescendinatura_, or _coalescendi_, either of which Lambinus proposes; for, asthe same learned critic well observes, is there not a cohesion of partsin a clod, or in a piece of stone? Our learned Walker proposes _solacohærendi natura_, which mends the sense very much; and I wish he hadthe authority of any copy for it. 

[157] Nasica Scipio, the censor, is said to have been the first whomade a water-clock in Rome. 

[158] The Epicureans. 

[159] An old Latin poet, commended by Quintilian for the gravity of hissense and his loftiness of style. 

[160] The shepherd is here supposed to take the stem or beak of theship for the mouth, from which the roaring voices of the sailors came. _Rostrum_ is here a lucky word to put in the mouth of one who never sawa ship before, as it is used for the beak of a bird, the snout of abeast or fish, and for the stem of a ship. 

[161] The Epicureans. 

[162] Greek, [Greek: aêr]; Latin, _aer_. 

[163] The treatise of Aristotle, from whence this is taken, is lost. 

[164] To the universe the Stoics certainly annexed the idea of alimited space, otherwise they could not have talked of a middle; forthere can be no middle but of a limited space: infinite space can haveno middle, there being infinite extension from every part. 

[165] These two contrary reversions are from the tropics of Cancer andCapricorn. They are the extreme bounds of the sun's course. The readermust observe that the astronomical parts of this book are introduced bythe Stoic as proofs of design and reason in the universe; and, notwithstanding the errors in his planetary system, his intent is wellanswered, because all he means is that the regular motions of theheavenly bodies, and their dependencies, are demonstrations of a divinemind. The inference proposed to be drawn from his astronomicalobservations is as just as if his system was in every partunexceptionably right: the same may be said of his anatomicalobservations. 

[166] In the zodiac. 

[167] Ibid. 

[168] These verses of Cicero are a translation from a Greek poem ofAratus, called the Phænomena. 

[169] The fixed stars. 

[170] The arctic and antarctic poles. 

[171] The two Arctoi are northern constellations. Cynosura is what wecall the Lesser Bear; Helice, the Greater Bear; in Latin, _Ursa Minor_and _Ursa Major_. 

[172] These stars in the Greater Bear are vulgarly called the "SevenStars, " or the "Northern Wain;" by the Latins, "Septentriones. "

[173] The Lesser Bear. 

[174] The Greater Bear. 

[175] Exactly agreeable to this and the following description of theDragon is the same northern constellation described in the map byFlamsteed in his Atlas Coelestis; and all the figures here described byAratus nearly agree with the maps of the same constellations in theAtlas Coelestis, though they are not all placed precisely alike. 

[176] The tail of the Greater Bear. 

[177] That is, in Macedon, where Aratus lived. 

[178] The true interpretation of this passage is as follows: Here inMacedon, says Aratus, the head of the Dragon does not entirely immergeitself in the ocean, but only touches the superficies of it. By _ortus_and _obitus_ I doubt not but Cicero meant, agreeable to Aratus, thoseparts which arise to view, and those which are removed from sight. 

[179] These are two northern constellations. Engonasis, in somecatalogues called Hercules, because he is figured kneeling [Greek: engonasin] (on his knees). [Greek: Engonasin kaleous'], as Aratus says, they call Engonasis. 

[180] The crown is placed under the feet of Hercules in the AtlasCoelestis; but Ophiuchus ([Greek: Ophiouchos]), the Snake-holder, isplaced in the map by Flamsteed as described here by Aratus; and theirheads almost meet. 

[181] The Scorpion. Ophiuchus, though a northern constellation, is notfar from that part of the zodiac where the Scorpion is, which is one ofthe six southern signs. 

[182] The Wain of seven stars. 

[183] The Wain-driver. This northern constellation is, in our presentmaps, figured with a club in his right hand behind the Greater Bear. 

[184] In some modern maps Arcturus, a star of the first magnitude, isplaced in the belt that is round the waist of Boötes. Cicero says_subter præcordia_, which is about the waist; and Aratus says [Greek:hypo zônê], under the belt. 

[185] _Sub caput Arcti_, under the head of the Greater Bear. 

[186] The Crab is, by the ancients and moderns, placed in the zodiac, as here, between the Twins and the Lion; and they are all threenorthern signs. 

[187] The Twins are placed in the zodiac with the side of one to thenorthern hemisphere, and the side of the other to the southernhemisphere. Auriga, the Charioteer, is placed in the northernhemisphere near the zodiac, by the Twins; and at the head of theCharioteer is Helice, the Greater Bear, placed; and the Goat is abright star of the first magnitude placed on the left shoulder of thisnorthern constellation, and called _Capra_, the Goat. _Hoedi_, theKids, are two more stars of the same constellation. 

[188] A constellation; one of the northern signs in the zodiac, inwhich the Hyades are placed. 

[189] One of the feet of Cepheus, a northern constellation, is underthe tail of the Lesser Bear. 

[190] Grotius, and after him Dr. Davis, and other learned men, read_Cassiepea_, after the Greek [Greek: Kassiepeia], and reject the commonreading, _Cassiopea_. 

[191] These northern constellations here mentioned have been alwaysplaced together as one family with Cepheus and Perseus, as they are inour modern maps. 

[192] This alludes to the fable of Perseus and Andromeda. 

[193] Pegasus, who is one of Perseus and Andromeda's family. 

[194] That is, with wings. 

[195] _Aries_, the Ram, is the first northern sign in the zodiac;_Pisces_, the Fishes, the last southern sign; therefore they must benear one another, as they are in a circle or belt. In Flamsteed's AtlasCoelestis one of the Fishes is near the head of the Ram, and the othernear the Urn of Aquarius. 

[196] These are called Virgiliæ by Cicero; by Aratus, the Pleiades, [Greek: Plêiades]; and they are placed at the neck of the Bull; and oneof Perseus's feet touches the Bull in the Atlas Coelestis. 

[197] This northern constellation is called Fides by Cicero; but itmust be the same with Lyra; because Lyra is placed in our maps as Fidesis here. 

[198] This is called Ales Avis by Cicero; and I doubt not but thenorthern constellation Cygnus is here to be understood, for thedescription and place of the Swan in the Atlas Coelestis are the samewhich Ales Avis has here. 

[199] Pegasus. 

[200] The Water-bearer, one of the six southern signs in the zodiac: heis described in our maps pouring water out of an urn, and leaning withone hand on the tail of Capricorn, another southern sign. 

[201] When the sun is in Capricorn, the days are at the shortest; andwhen in Cancer, at the longest. 

[202] One of the six southern signs. 

[203] Sagittarius, another southern sign. 

[204] A northern constellation. 

[205] A northern constellation. 

[206] A southern constellation. 

[207] This is Canis Major, a southern constellation. Orion and the Dogare named together by Hesiod, who flourished many hundred years beforeCicero or Aratus. 

[208] A southern constellation, placed as here in the Atlas Coelestis. 

[209] A southern constellation, so called from the ship Argo, in whichJason and the rest of the Argonauts sailed on their expedition toColchos. 

[210] The Ram is the first of the northern signs in the zodiac; and thelast southern sign is the Fishes; which two signs, meeting in thezodiac, cover the constellation called Argo. 

[211] The river Eridanus, a southern constellation. 

[212] A southern constellation. 

[213] This is called the Scorpion in the original of Aratus. 

[214] A southern constellation. 

[215] A southern constellation. 

[216] The Serpent is not mentioned in Cicero's translation; but it isin the original of Aratus. 

[217] A southern constellation. 

[218] The Goblet, or Cup, a southern constellation. 

[219] A southern constellation. 

[220] Antecanis, a southern constellation, is the Little Dog, andcalled _Antecanis_ in Latin, and [Greek: Prokyôn] in Greek, because herises before the other Dog. 

[221] Pansætius, a Stoic philosopher. 

[222] Mercury and Venus. 

[223] The proboscis of the elephant is frequently called a hand, because it is as useful to him as one. "They breathe, drink, and smell, with what may not be improperly called a hand, " says Pliny, bk. Viii. C. 10. --DAVIS. 

[224] The passage of Aristotle's works to which Cicero here alludes isentirely lost; but Plutarch gives a similar account. 

[225] Balbus does not tell us the remedy which the panther makes useof; but Pliny is not quite so delicate: he says, _excrementis hominissibi medetur_. 

[226] Aristotle says they purge themselves with this herb after theyfawn. Pliny says both before and after. 

[227] The cuttle-fish has a bag at its neck, the black blood of whichthe Romans used for ink. It was called _atramentum_. 

[228] The Euphrates is said to carry into Mesopotamia a large quantityof citrons, with which it covers the fields. 

[229] Q. Curtius, and some other authors, say the Ganges is the largestriver in India; but Ammianus Marcellinus concurs with Cicero in callingthe river Indus the largest of all rivers. 

[230] These Etesian winds return periodically once a year, and blow atcertain seasons, and for a certain time. 

[231] Some read _mollitur_, and some _molitur;_ the latter of which P. Manucius justly prefers, from the verb _molo_, _molis;_ from whence, says he, _molares dentes_, the grinders. 

[232] The weasand, or windpipe. 

[233] The epiglottis, which is a cartilaginous flap in the shape of atongue, and therefore called so. 

[234] Cicero is here giving the opinion of the ancients concerning thepassage of the chyle till it is converted to blood. 

[235] What Cicero here calls the ventricles of the heart are likewisecalled auricles, of which there is the right and left. 

[236] The Stoics and Peripatetics said that the nerves, veins, andarteries come directly from the heart. According to the anatomy of themoderns, they come from the brain. 

[237] The author means all musical instruments, whether string or windinstruments, which are hollow and tortuous. 

[238] The Latin version of Cicero is a translation from the Greek ofAratus. 

[239] Chrysippus's meaning is, that the swine is so inactive andslothful a beast that life seems to be of no use to it but to keep itfrom putrefaction, as salt keeps dead flesh. 

[240] _Ales_, in the general signification, is any large bird; and_oscinis_ is any singing bird. But they here mean those birds which areused in augury: _alites_ are the birds whose flight was observed by theaugurs, and _oscines_ the birds from whose voices they augured. 

[241] As the Academics doubted everything, it was indifferent to themwhich side of a question they took. 

[242] The keepers and interpreters of the Sibylline oracles were theQuindecimviri. 

[243] The popular name of Jupiter in Rome, being looked upon asdefender of the Capitol (in which he was placed), and stayer of theState. 

[244] Some passages of the original are here wanting. Cotta continuesspeaking against the doctrine of the Stoics. 

[245] The word _sortes_ is often used for the answers of the oracles, or, rather, for the rolls in which the answers were written. 

[246] Three of this eminent family sacrificed themselves for theircountry; the father in the Latin war, the son in the Tuscan war, andthe grandson in the war with Pyrrhus. 

[247] The Straits of Gibraltar. 

[248] The common reading is, _ex quo anima dicitur;_ but Dr. Davis andM. Bouhier prefer _animal_, though they keep _anima_ in the text, because our author says elsewhere, _animum ex anima dictum_, Tusc. I. 1. Cicero is not here to be accused of contradictions, for we are toconsider that he speaks in the characters of other persons; but thereappears to be nothing in these two passages irreconcilable, andprobably _anima_ is the right word here. 

[249] He is said to have led a colony from Greece into Caria, in Asia, and to have built a town, and called it after his own name, for whichhis countrymen paid him divine honors after his death. 

[250] Our great author is under a mistake here. Homer does not say hemet Hercules himself, but his [Greek: Eidôlon], his "visionarylikeness;" and adds that he himself

 [Greek: met' athanatoisi theoisi terpetai en thaliês, kai echei kallisphyrou Hêbên, paida Dios megaloio kai Hêrês chrysopedilou. ]

which Pope translates--

 A shadowy form, for high in heaven's abodes Himself resides, a God among the Gods; There, in the bright assemblies of the skies, He nectar quaffs, and Hebe crowns his joys. 

[251] They are said to have been the first workers in iron. They werecalled Idæi, because they inhabited about Mount Ida in Crete, andDactyli, from [Greek: daktyloi] (the fingers), their number being five. 

[252] From whom, some say, the city of that name was called. 

[253] Capedunculæ seem to have been bowls or cups, with handles on eachside, set apart for the use of the altar. --DAVIS. 

[254] See Cicero de Divinatione, and Ovid. Fast. 

[255] In the consulship of Piso and Gabinius sacrifices to Serapis andIsis were prohibited in Rome; but the Roman people afterward placedthem again in the number of their gods. See Tertullian's Apol. And hisfirst book Ad Nationes, and Arnobius, lib. 2. --DAVIS. 

[256] In some copies Circe, Pasiphae, and Æa are mentioned together;but Æa is rejected by the most judicious editors. 

[257] They were three, and are said to have averted a plague byoffering themselves a sacrifice. 

[258] So called from the Greek word [Greek: thaumazô], to wonder. 

[259] She was first called Geres, from _gero_, to bear. 

[260] The word is _precatione_, which means the books or forms ofprayers used by the augurs. 

[261] Cotta's intent here, as well as in other places, is to show howunphilosophical their civil theology was, and with what confusions itwas embarrassed; which design of the Academic the reader shouldcarefully keep in view, or he will lose the chain of argument. 

[262] Anactes, [Greek: Anaktes], was a general name for all kings, aswe find in the oldest Greek writers, and particularly in Homer. 

[263] The common reading is Aleo; but we follow Lambinus and Davis, whohad the authority of the best manuscript copies. 

[264] Some prefer Phthas to Opas (see Dr. Davis's edition); but Opas isthe generally received reading. 

[265] The Lipari Isles. 

[266] A town in Arcadia. 

[267] In Arcadia. 

[268] A northern people. 

[269] So called from the Greek word [Greek: nomos], _lex_, a law. 

[270] He is called [Greek: Ôpis] in some old Greek fragments, and[Greek: Oupis] by Callimachus in his hymn on Diana. 

[271] [Greek: Sabazios], Sabazius, is one of the names used forBacchus. 

[272] Here is a wide chasm in the original. What is lost probably mayhave contained great part of Cotta's arguments against the providenceof the Stoics. 

[273] Here is one expression in the quotation from Cæcilius that is notcommonly met with, which is _præstigias præstrinxit;_ Lambinus gives_præstinxit_, for the sake, I suppose, of playing on words, because itmight then be translated, "He has deluded my delusions, or stratagems;"but _præstrinxit_ is certainly the right reading. 

[274] The ancient Romans had a judicial as well as a military prætor;and he sat, with inferior judges attending him, like one of ourchief-justices. _Sessum it prætor_, which I doubt not is the rightreading, Lambinus restored from an old copy. The common reading was_sessum ite precor_. 

[275] Picenum was a region of Italy. 

[276] The _sex primi_ were general receivers of all taxes and tributes;and they were obliged to make good, out of their own fortunes, whateverdeficiencies were in the public treasury. 

[277] The Lætorian Law was a security for those under age againstextortioners, etc. By this law all debts contracted under twenty-fiveyears of age were void. 

[278] This is from Ennius--

 Utinam ne in nemore Pelio securibus Cæsa cecidisset abiegna ad terram trabes. 

Translated from the beginning of the Medea of Euripides--

 [Greek: Mêd' en napaisi Pêlion pesein pote tmêtheisa peukê. ]

[279] Q. Fabius Maximus, surnamed Cunctator. 

[280] Diogenes Laertius says he was pounded to death in a stone mortarby command of Nicocreon, tyrant of Cyprus. 

[281] Elea, a city of Lucania, in Italy. The manner in which Zeno wasput to death is, according to Diogenes Laertius, uncertain. 

[282] This great and good man was accused of destroying the divinity ofthe Gods of his country. He was condemned, and died by drinking a glassof poison. 

[283] Tyrant of Sicily. 

[284] The common reading is, _in tympanidis rogum inlatus est_. Thispassage has been the occasion of as many different opinions concerningboth the reading and the sense as any passage in the whole treatise. _Tympanum_ is used for a timbrel or drum, _tympanidia_ a diminutive ofit. Lambinus says _tympana_ "were sticks with which the tyrant used tobeat the condemned. " P. Victorius substitutes _tyrannidis_ for_tympanidis_. 

[285] The original is _de amissa salute;_ which means the sentence ofbanishment among the Romans, in which was contained the loss of goodsand estate, and the privileges of a Roman; and in this sense L'Abbéd'Olivet translates it. 

[286] The forty-seventh proposition of the first book of Euclid isunanimously ascribed to him by the ancients. Dr. Wotton, in hisReflections upon Ancient and Modern Learning, says, "It is indeed avery noble proposition, the foundation of trigonometry, of universaland various use in those curious speculations about incommensurablenumbers. "

[287] These votive tables, or pictures, were hung up in the temples. 

[288] This passage is a fragment from a tragedy of Attius. 

[289] Hipponax was a poet at Ephesus, and so deformed that Bupalus drewa picture of him to provoke laughter; for which Hipponax is said tohave written such keen iambics on the painter that he hanged himself. 

Lycambes had promised Archilochus the poet to marry his daughter tohim, but afterward retracted his promise, and refused her; upon whichArchilochus is said to have published a satire in iambic verse thatprovoked him to hang himself. 

[290] Cicero refers here to an oracle approving of his laws, andpromising Sparta prosperity as long as they were obeyed, which Lycurgusprocured from Delphi. 

[291] _Pro aris et focis_ is a proverbial expression. The Romans, whenthey would say their all was at stake, could not express it strongerthan by saying they contended _pro aris et focis_, for religion andtheir firesides, or, as we express it, for religion and property. 

[292] Cicero, who was an Academic, gives his opinion according to themanner of the Academics, who looked upon probability, and a resemblanceof truth, as the utmost they could arrive at. 

[293] _I. E. _, Regulus. 

[294] _I. E. _, Fabius. 

[295] It is unnecessary to give an account of the other names herementioned; but that of Lænas is probably less known. He was PubliusPopillius Lænas, consul 132 B. C. , the year after the death of TiberiusGracchus, and it became his duty to prosecute the accomplices ofGracchus, for which he was afterward attacked by Caius Gracchus withsuch animosity that he withdrew into voluntary exile. Cicero pays atribute to the energy of Opimius in the first Oration against Catiline, c. Iii. 

[296] This phenomenon of the parhelion, or mock sun, which so puzzledCicero's interlocutors, has been very satisfactorily explained bymodern science. The parhelia are formed by the reflection of thesunbeams on a cloud properly situated. They usually accompany thecoronæ, or luminous circles, and are placed in the same circumference, and at the same height. Their colors resemble that of the rainbow; thered and yellow are towards the side of the sun, and the blue and violeton the other. There are, however, coronæ sometimes seen withoutparhelia, and _vice versâ_. Parhelia are double, triple, etc. , and in1629, a parhelion of five suns was seen at Rome, and another of sixsuns at Arles, 1666. 

[297] There is a little uncertainty as to what this age was, but it wasprobably about twenty-five. 

[298] Cicero here gives a very exact and correct account of theplanetarium of Archimedes, which is so often noticed by the ancientastronomers. It no doubt corresponded in a great measure to our modernplanetarium, or orrery, invented by the earl of that name. Thiselaborate machine, whose manufacture requires the most exact andcritical science, is of the greatest service to those who study therevolutions of the stars, for astronomic, astrologic, or meteorologicpurposes. 

[299] The end of the fourteenth chapter and the first words of thefifteenth are lost; but it is plain that in the fifteenth it is Scipiowho is speaking. 

[300] There is evidently some error in the text here, for Ennius wasborn 515 A. U. C. , was a personal friend of the elder Africanus, and diedabout 575 A. U. C. , so that it is plain that we ought to read in the text550, not 350. 

[301] Two pages are lost here. Afterward it is again Scipio who isspeaking. 

[302] Two pages are lost here. 

[303] Both Ennius and Nævius wrote tragedies called "Iphigenia. " Maithinks the text here corrupt, and expresses some doubt whether there isa quotation here at all. 

[304] He means Scipio himself. 

[305] There is again a hiatus. What follows is spoken by Lælius. 

[306] Again two pages are lost. 

[307] Again two pages are lost. It is evident that Scipio is speakingagain in cap. Xxxi. 

[308] Again two pages are lost. 

[309] Again two pages are lost. 

[310] Here four pages are lost. 

[311] Here four pages are lost. 

[312] Two pages are missing here. 

[313] A name of Neptune. 

[314] About seven lines are lost here, and there is a great deal ofcorruption and imperfection in the next few sentences. 

[315] Two pages are lost here. 

[316] The _Lex Curiata de Imperio_, so often mentioned here, was thesame as the _Auctoritas Patrum_, and was necessary in order to conferupon the dictator, consuls, and other magistrates the _imperium_, ormilitary command: without this they had only a _potestas_, or civilauthority, and could not meddle with military affairs. 

[317] Two pages are missing here. 

[318] Here two pages are missing. 

[319] I have translated this very corrupt passage according toNiebuhr's emendation. 

[320] Assiduus, ab ære dando. 

[321] Proletarii, a prole. 

[322] Here four pages are missing. 

[323] Two pages are missing here. 

[324] Two pages are missing here. 

[325] Here twelve pages are missing. 

[326] Sixteen pages are missing here. 

[327] Here eight pages are missing. 

[328] A great many pages are missing here. 

[329] Several pages are lost here; the passage in brackets is found inNonius under the word "exulto. "

[330] This and other chapters printed in smaller type are generallypresumed to be of doubtful authenticity. 

[331] The beginning of this book is lost. The two first paragraphscome, the one from St. Augustine, the other from Lactantius. 

[332] Eight or nine pages are lost here. 

[333] Here six pages are lost. 

[334] Here twelve pages are missing. 

[335] We have been obliged to insert two or three of these sentencesbetween brackets, which are not found in the original, for the sake ofshowing the drift of the arguments of Philus. He himself was fullyconvinced that justice and morality were of eternal and immutableobligation, and that the best interests of all beings lie in theirperpetual development and application. This eternity of Justice isbeautifully illustrated by Montesquieu. "Long, " says he, "beforepositive laws were instituted, the moral relations of justice wereabsolute and universal. To say that there were no justice or injusticebut that which depends on the injunctions or prohibitions of positivelaws, is to say that the radii which spring from a centre are not equaltill we have formed a circle to illustrate the proposition. We must, therefore, acknowledge that the relations of equity were antecedent tothe positive laws which corroborated them. " But though Philus was fullyconvinced of this, in order to give his friends Scipio and Lælius anopportunity of proving it, he frankly brings forward every argument forinjustice that sophistry had ever cast in the teeth of reason. --_By theoriginal Translator_. 

[336] Here four pages are missing. The following sentence is preservedin Nonius. 

[337] Two pages are missing here. 

[338] Several pages are missing here. 

[339] He means Alexander the Great. 

[340] Six or eight pages are lost here. 

[341] A great many pages are missing here. 

[342] Six or eight pages are missing here. 

[343] Several pages are lost here. 

[344] This and the following chapters are not the actual words ofCicero, but quotations by Lactantius and Augustine of what they affirmthat he said. 

[345] Twelve pages are missing here. 

[346] Eight pages are missing here. 

[347] Six or eight pages are missing here. 

[348] Catadupa, from [Greek: kata] and [Greek: doipos], noise.