1. Cicero, On The Ends of Good And Evil, 3.41, 4.20, 4.72, 5.16-5.20 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 3.41. Tum ille: His igitur ita positis, inquit, sequitur magna contentio, quam tractatam qua tractata Guyet. a Peripateticis mollius—est enim eorum consuetudo dicendi non satis acuta propter ignorationem ignorantiam R dialecticae—Carneades tuus egregia quadam exercitatione in dialecticis summaque eloquentia rem in summum discrimen adduxit, propterea quod pugnare non destitit in omni hac quaestione, quae de bonis et malis appelletur, non esse rerum Stoicis cum Peripateticis controversiam, sed nominum. mihi autem nihil tam perspicuum videtur, quam has sententias eorum philosophorum re inter se magis quam verbis dissidere; maiorem multo inter Stoicos et Peripateticos rerum esse aio aio aĩo V animo R oio ( prior o ab alt. m. in ras. ) N discrepantiam quam verborum, quippe cum Peripatetici omnia, quae ipsi bona appellant, pertinere dicant ad beate vivendum, nostri non ex omni, quod non ex omni quod Dav. non quod ex omni ARV noro quod ex omni BE numquam ex omni N aestimatione aliqua dignum sit, compleri vitam beatam putent. 4.20. Alia quaedam dicent, credo, magna antiquorum esse peccata, quae ille veri veri ( corr., ut videtur, ex vere) N vere BEV vero R investigandi cupidus nullo modo ferre potuerit. quid enim perversius, quid intolerabilius, quid stultius quam bonam valitudinem, quam dolorum omnium vacuitatem, quam integritatem oculorum reliquorumque sensuum ponere in bonis potius, quam dicerent nihil omnino inter eas res iisque contrarias interesse? ea enim omnia, quae illi bona dicerent, praeposita esse, non bona, itemque illa, quae in corpore excellerent, stulte antiquos dixisse per se esse expetenda; sumenda potius quam expetenda. ea denique omni vita, quae in una virtute virtute una BE consisteret, illam vitam, quae etiam ceteris rebus, quae essent secundum naturam, abundaret, magis expetendam non esse. sed magis sumendam. cumque ipsa virtus efficiat ita beatam vitam, ut beatior esse non possit, tamen quaedam deesse sapientibus tum, cum sint beatissimi; itaque eos id agere, ut a se dolores, morbos, debilitates repellant. 4.72. Quis istud, quaeso, quaeso Man., Lamb. ; quasi nesciebat? verum audiamus.— Ista, inquit, quae dixisti, valere, locupletem esse, non dolere, bona non dico, sed dicam Graece prohgme/na, Latine autem producta—sed praeposita proposita RNV aut praecipua malo, sit tolerabilius et mollius—; illa autem, morbum, egestatem, dolorem, non appello mala, sed, si libet, si libet BE, N (libet ab alt. m. in ras. ); si lilibet R scilicet V reiectanea. itaque illa non dico me expetere, sed legere, nec optare, sed sumere, contraria autem non fugere, sed quasi secernere. Quid ait Aristoteles reliquique Platonis alumni? Se omnia, quae secundum naturam sint, bona appellare, quae autem contra, mala. Videsne igitur Zenonem tuum cum Aristone verbis concinere, concinere C. F. W. Mue. consistere re re N 2 om. BERN 1 V dissidere, cum Aristotele et illis re consentire, verbis discrepare? discrepare BE disceptare cur igitur, cum de re conveniat, non malumus malimus NV usitate loqui? aut doceat paratiorem me ad contemnendam pecuniam fore, si illam in rebus praepositis quam si in bonis duxero, fortioremque in patiendo dolore, si eum asperum et difficilem perpessu et contra perpessu et contra perpessi contra BE naturam esse quam si malum dixero. 5.16. ex quo, id quod omnes expetunt, beate vivendi ratio inveniri et comparari potest. quod quoniam in quo sit magna dissensio est, Carneadea carneadia BENV nobis adhibenda divisio est, qua noster Antiochus libenter uti solet. ille igitur vidit, non modo quot fuissent adhuc philosophorum de summo bono, sed quot omnino esse possent sententiae. negabat igitur ullam esse artem, quae ipsa a se proficisceretur; etenim semper illud extra est, quod arte comprehenditur. nihil opus est exemplis hoc facere longius. est enim perspicuum nullam artem ipsam in se versari, sed esse aliud artem ipsam, aliud quod propositum sit arti. quoniam igitur, ut medicina valitudinis, navigationis gubernatio, sic vivendi ars est prudentia, necesse est eam quoque ab aliqua re esse constitutam et profectam. 5.17. constitit autem fere inter omnes id, in quo prudentia versaretur et quod assequi vellet, aptum et accommodatum naturae esse oportere et tale, ut ipsum per se invitaret et alliceret appetitum animi, quem o(rmh o(rmh/n ] bonū R Graeci vocant. quid autem sit, quod ita moveat itaque a natura in primo ortu appetatur, non constat, deque eo est inter philosophos, cum summum bonum exquiritur, omnis dissensio. totius enim quaestionis eius, quae habetur de finibus bonorum et malorum, cum quaeritur, in his quid sit extremum et ultimum, et quid ultimum BE fons reperiendus est, in quo sint prima invitamenta naturae; quo invento omnis ab eo quasi capite de summo bono et malo disputatio ducitur. Voluptatis alii primum appetitum putant et primam depulsionem doloris. vacuitatem doloris alii censent primum ascitam ascitam cod. Glogav., Mdv. ; ascitum RV as|scitum N assertum BE et primum declinatum dolorem. 5.18. ab iis iis Lamb. 2, Mdv. ; his alii, quae prima secundum naturam nomit, proficiscuntur, in quibus numerant incolumitatem conservationemque omnium partium, valitudinem, sensus integros, doloris vacuitatem, viris, pulchritudinem, cetera generis eiusdem, quorum similia sunt prima prima om. R in animis quasi virtutum igniculi et semina. Ex his tribus cum unum aliquid aliquid Wes. aliquod sit, quo primum primum dett. prima BE primo RNV natura moveatur vel ad appetendum vel ad ad ( prius ) om. BERN repellendum, nec quicquam omnino praeter haec tria possit esse, necesse est omnino officium aut fugiendi aut sequendi ad eorum aliquid aliquod BE referri, ut illa prudentia, quam artem vitae esse diximus, in earum trium rerum aliqua versetur, a qua totius vitae ducat exordium. 5.19. ex eo autem, quod statuerit esse, quo primum natura moveatur, existet recti etiam ratio atque honesti, quae cum uno aliquo aliquo uno BE ex tribus illis congruere possit, possit. u aut non dolendi ita sit ut quanta ( v. 19 ) R rell. om. ut aut id honestum sit, facere omnia aut voluptatis causa, etiam si eam secl. Mdv. non consequare, aut non dolendi, etiam etiam N 2 in ras., aut BEV si id assequi nequeas, aut eorum, quae secundum naturam sunt, adipiscendi, etiam si nihil consequare. ita ita N 2 aut non dolendi ita R ( cf. ad v. 14 ), N 1 V; aut nichil dolendi ita BE fit ut, quanta differentia est in principiis naturalibus, tanta sit in finibus bonorum malorumque dissimilitudo. alii rursum isdem a principiis omne officium referent aut ad voluptatem aut ad non dolendum aut ad prima illa secundum naturam optinenda. 5.20. expositis iam igitur sex de summo bono sententiis trium proximarum hi principes: voluptatis Aristippus, non dolendi Hieronymus, fruendi rebus iis, quas primas secundum naturam esse diximus, Carneades non ille quidem auctor, sed defensor disserendi causa fuit. superiores tres erant, quae esse possent, quarum est una sola defensa, eaque vehementer. nam voluptatis causa facere omnia, cum, etiamsi nihil consequamur, tamen ipsum illud consilium ita faciendi per se expetendum et honestum et solum bonum sit, nemo dixit. ne vitationem quidem doloris ipsam per se quisquam in rebus expetendis putavit, nisi nisi Urs. ne si etiam evitare posset. at vero facere omnia, ut adipiscamur, quae secundum naturam sint, sunt BE etiam si ea non assequamur, id esse et honestum et solum per se expetendum et solum bonum Stoici dicunt. | 3.41. "Well, then," resumed Cato, "these principles established there follows a great dispute, which on the side of the Peripatetics was carried on with no great pertinacity (in fact their ignorance of logic renders their habitual style of discourse somewhat deficient in cogency); but your leader Carneades with his exceptional proficiency in logic and his consummate eloquence brought the controversy to a head. Carneades never ceased to contend that on the whole soâcalled 'problem of good and evil,' there was no disagreement as to facts between the Stoics and the Peripatetics, but only as to terms. For my part, however, nothing seems to me more manifest than that there is more of a real than a verbal difference of opinion between those philosophers on these points. I maintain that there is a far greater discrepancy between the Stoics and the Peripatetics as to facts than as to words. The Peripatetics say that all the things which under their system are called goods contribute to happiness; whereas our school does not believe that total happiness comprises everything that deserves to have a certain amount of value attached to it. 4.20. As I understand, they will accuse the ancients of certain grave errors in other matters, which that ardent seeker after truth found himself quite unable to tolerate. What, he asked, could have been more insufferably foolish and perverse than to take good health, freedom from all pain, or soundness of eyesight and of the other senses, and class them as goods, instead of saying that there was nothing whatever to choose between these things and their opposites? According to him, all these things which the ancients called good, were not good, but 'preferred'; and so also with bodily excellences, it was foolish of the ancients to call them 'desirable for their own sakes'; they were not 'desirable' but 'worth taking'; and in short, speaking generally, a life bountifully supplied with all the other things in accordance with nature, in addition to virtue, was not 'more desirable,' but only 'more worth taking' than a life of virtue and virtue alone; and although virtue of itself can render life as happy as it is possible for it to be, yet there are some things that Wise Men lack at the very moment of supreme happiness; and accordingly they do their best to protect themselves from pain, disease and infirmity. 4.72. "Who, pray, did not know that? However, let us hear what he has to say. â 'The things you mentioned,' he continues, 'health, affluence, freedom from pain, I do not call goods, but I will call them in Greek proÄgmena, that is in your language "brought forward" (though I will rather use "preferred" or "preâeminent," as these sound smoother and more acceptable) and on the other hand disease, poverty and pain I do not style evils, but, if you please, "things rejected." Accordingly I do not speak of "desiring" but "selecting" these things, not of "wishing" but "adopting" them, and not of "avoiding" their opposites but so to speak "discarding" them.' What say Aristotle and the other pupils of Plato? That they call all things in accordance with nature good and all things contrary to nature bad. Do you see therefore that between your master Zeno and Aristo there is a verbal harmony but a real difference; whereas between him and Aristotle and the rest there is a real agreement and a verbal disagreement? Why, then, as we are agreed to the fact, do we not prefer to employ the usual terminology? Or else let him prove that I shall be readier to despise money if I believe it to be a 'thing preferred' than if I believe it to be a good, and braver to endure pain if I say it is irksome and hard to bear and contrary to nature, than if I call it an evil. 5.16. and therefore have discovered a standard to which each action may be referred; and from this we can discover and construct that rule of happiness which all desire. "Now there is great difference of opinion as to what constitutes the Chief Good. Let us therefore adopt the classification of Carneades, which our teacher Antiochus is very fond of employing. Carneades passed in review all the opinions as of that Chief Good, not only that actually had been held by philosophers hitherto, but that it was possible to hold. He then pointed out that no science or art can supply its own starting-point; its subject-matter must always lie outside it. There is no need to enlarge upon or illustrate this point; for it is evident that no art is occupied with itself: the art is distinct from the subject with which it deals; since therefore, as medicine is the art of health and navigation the art of sailing the ship, so Prudence or Practical Wisdom is the art of conduct, it follows that Prudence also must have something as its base and point of departure. 5.17. Now practically all have agreed that the subject with which Prudence is occupied and the end which it desires to attain is bound to be something intimately adapted to our nature; it must be capable of directly arousing and awakening an impulse of desire, what in Greek is called hormÄ. But what it is that at the first moment of our existence excites in our nature this impulse of desire â as to this there is no agreement. It is at this point that all the difference of opinion among students of the ethical problem arises. of the whole inquiry into the Ends of Goods and Evils and the question which among them is ultimate and final, the fountain-head is to be found in the earliest instincts of nature; discover these and you have the source of the stream, the starting-point of the debate as to the Chief Good and Evil. 5.18. "One school holds that our earliest desire is for pleasure and our earliest repulsion is from pain; another thinks that freedom from pain is the earliest thing welcomed, and pain the earliest thing avoided; others again start from what they term the primary objects in accordance with nature, among which they reckon the soundness and safety of all the parts of the body, health, perfect senses, freedom from pain, strength, beauty and the like, analogous to which are the primary intellectual excellences which are the sparks and seeds of the virtues. Now it must be one or other of these three sets of things which first excites our nature to feel desire or repulsion; nor can it be anything whatsoever beside these three things. It follows therefore that every right act of avoidance or of pursuit is aimed at one of these objects, and that consequently one of these three must form the subject-matter of Prudence, which we spoke of as the art of life; from one of the three Prudence derives the initial motive of the whole of conduct. 5.19. "Now, from whichever Prudence decides to be the object of the primary natural impulses, will arise a theory of right and of Moral Worth which may correspond with one or other of the three objects aforesaid. Thus Morality will consist either in aiming all our actions at pleasure, even though one may not succeed in attaining it; or at absence of pain, even though one is unable to secure it; or at getting the things in accordance with nature, even though one does not attain any of them. Hence there is a divergence between the different conceptions of the Ends of Goods and Evils, precisely equivalent to the difference of opinion as to the primary natural objects. â Others again starting from the same primary objects will make the sole standard of right action the actual attainment of pleasure, freedom from pain, or the primary things in accordance with nature, respectively. 5.20. "Thus we have now set forth six views as to the Chief Good. The leading upholders of the latter three are: of pleasure, Aristippus; of freedom from pain, Hieronymus; of the enjoyment of what we have called the primary things in accordance with nature, Carneades, â that is, he did not originate this view but he upheld it for purposes of argument. The three former were possible views, but only one of them has been actually maintained, though that with great vigour. No one has asserted pleasure to be the sole aim of action in the sense that the mere intention of attaining pleasure, although unsuccessful, is in itself desirable and moral and the only good. Nor yet has anyone held that the effort to avoid pain is in itself a thing desirable, without one's being able actually to avoid it. On the other hand, that morality consists in using every endeavour to obtain the things in accordance with nature, and that this endeavour even though unsuccessful is itself the sole thing desirable and the sole good, is actually maintained by the Stoics. |
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2. Cicero, Philippicae, 2.63, 2.84-2.87 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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3. Cicero, Tusculan Disputations, 2.30, 4.67-4.69, 4.71-4.76, 5.32, 5.120 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 2.30. haec est copia verborum, quod omnes uno verbo malum appellamus, id tot modis posse dicere. definis tu mihi, non tollis dolorem, cum dicis asperum, contra naturam, vix quod ferri tolerarique tollerarique G( ) RV possit; nec mentiris; sed re succumbere non oportebat verbis gloriantem. dum du in r. V rec del. Lb. nihil bonum nisi quod honestum, nihil malum si quod ... malum add. V c nisi quod turpe— optare hoc quidem est, non docere; docere oce in r. V 1 illud et melius et verius, omnia quae natura aspernetur aspernetur V 2 aspernatur X in malis esse, quae adsciscat, in bonis. hoc posito et verborum concertatione concertatione V (m eras. ) sublata tantum tamen excellet illud quod recte rite H amplexantur isti, quod honestum, quod rectum, quod decorum appellamus, quod idem interdum virtutis nomine amplectimur, ut omnia praeterea, quae bona corporis et fortunae fortunae V c furtunae X putantur, perexigua et minuta videantur, nihil melius aut verius dici queunt quam omnia quae... 20 videantur H igitur ne malum quidem quidem V (l litt. er.) ullum, illum G 1 nec si in unum locum add. Se. (nec malum ullum, ne si in unum quidem locum Ba. ) conlata omnia sint, cum turpitudinis malo comparanda. 4.67. illud iam supra supra cf. p. 368, 2 diximus, contractionem contractione X corr. V 3 s animi recte fieri numquam posse, elationem posse. aliter enim Naevianus ille gaudet Hector: Hect. profic. 15 haector GK h octor V( e2) Lae/tus sum lauda/ri me abs te, pa/ter, a laudato/ viro, aliter ille apud Trabeam: Trab. fr. 1 Le/na deleni/ta argento argento ex -tum V nu/tum observabi/t meum, Qui/d velim, quid stu/deam. adveniens di/gito impellam ia/nuam, genuam K Fo/res patebunt. de i/nproviso Chry/sis ubi me aspe/xerit, A/lacris ob via/m mihi veniet co/mplexum exopta/ns meum, Mi/hi se dedet. se dedit K sedet V quam haec pulchra putet, ipse iam dicet: Fo/rtunam ipsam antei/bo fortuni/s meis. 4.68. haec laetitia quam turpis sit, satis est diligenter attendentem penitus videre. Et ut turpes sunt, qui ecferunt haec 13 effe om. V 1, add. V rec in mg., runt se eadem m. in r. se laetitia tum cum hecferunt K haec ferunt G qui efferunt R (i et ef m. rec. ) fruuntur Veneriis voluptatibus, sic flagitiosi, quiaesinflammato K 1 inflamato GRV qui eas inflammato animo concupiscunt. totus vero iste, qui volgo appellatur appellantur V 1 amor—nec nec ex ne V c hercule invenio, quo nomine alio possit appellari—, tantae levitatis est, ut nihil videam quod putem conferendum. quem Caecilius fr. 259 deum qui non summum putet, aut stultum aut rerum esse imperitum existumat, existumat s existumet X Cui cui Ciceroni trib. Mue. cuii Ribb. i/n manu sit, quem e/sse demente/m demente GRV 1 velit, Quem sa/pere, quem sana/ri, sanari Man. insanare K 1 insanire GRVK c quem in morbum i/nici, Quem co/ntra amari, quem e/xpeti, quem arce/ssier. hunc fere versum excidisse statuit Bentl. : quem odio esse, quem contemni, quem excludi foras arces sier Bentl. arcessiri (arcesciri V 1 )X o praeclaram emendatricem vitae poëticam, quae amo- 4.69. rem amore X ( in K s in fine eras. ) flagitii et levitatis auctorem in concilio deorum conlocandum conlocari dum G 1 putet! de comoedia loquor, quae, si haec flagitia non non s nos X ( cf.p.381, 26 ) nos non Ro b b. p. 103 probaremus, nulla esset omnino; quid ait ex tragoedia princeps ille Argonautarum? argonautarū V (rū in r. V c ) Tu/ me amoris tumamoris K tum ea moris R ma/gis quam honoris se/rvavisti servavisti Crat. servasti gra/tia. Ennius Med. exul 278 quid ergo? hic amor Medeae quanta miseriarum excitavit incendia! atque ea tamen apud alium poëtam patri dicere audet se se s V 3 sed X Trag. inc. 174 coniugem habuisse illum, Amor quem dederat, qui plus pollet potiorque est est G ( exp. 1 est ss. 2 ) patre. 4.71. atque, ut muliebris amores omittam, quibus maiorem licentiam natura concessit, quis aut de Ganymedi ganumedi K nymedi G 1 ganymedis V rec raptu dubitat, quid poëtae velint, aut non intellegit, quid apud Euripidem et loquatur et cupiat Eurip. Chrysippo p. 632 N. Laius? quid denique homines doctissimi et summi poë- tae de se ipsis et carminibus edunt edunt Lb. edant cf. praef. et cantibus? fortis vir in sua re p. cognitus quae de iuvenum amore scribit Alcaeus! nam Anacreontis quidem tota poësis est amatoria. maxume vero omnium flagrasse amore Reginum Ibycum apparet ex scriptis. Atque horum omnium lubidinosos esse amores videmus: philosophi sumus exorti, et et ex G 1 auctore quidem nostro Platone, quem non iniuria Dicaearchus accusat, qui amori auctoritatem tribueremus. 4.72. Stoici vero et sapientem amaturum esse St. fr. 3, 652 dicunt et amorem ipsum conatum amicitiae faciendae ex pulchritudinis specie definiunt. qui si qui si quin V quis est in rerum natura sine sollicitudine, sine desiderio, sine cura, sine suspirio, sit sane; vacat enim omni libidine; haec autem de libidine oratio est. sin autem est aliquis amor, ut est certe, qui nihil absit aut non multum ab insania, qualis in Leucadia est: si quidem sit quisquam Turpil. 115 deus, cui cuii Ribb. ad V ego sim curae — 4.73. at id erat deis dehis X (de is V) omnibus curandum, quem ad modum hic frueretur voluptate amatoria! heu me infelicem! —nihil verius. probe et ille: sanusne es, sanun es Wo. qui temere lamentare? sic sic hic Mdv. ( at cf. ita div. 2, 82 ) insanus videtur etiam suis. at at ad KR effecit KRG (tragoediasfeffecit) V rec (affecit V 1 ) efficit s quas tragoedias efficit! Te, te s et X Apo/llo sancte, fe/r opem, teque, amni/potens tequea omnipotens GR tequeaomnipotens K te- que omnipotens V amnipotens Wölfflin ap. Ribb. omnip. vulgo Neptune, i/nvoco, Vosque a/deo, Venti! mundum totum se ad amorem suum sublevandum conversurum putat, Venerem unam excludit ut iniquam: nam quid quid add. K c ego te appellem, Venus? eam prae lubidine lib. V negat curare quicquam: quasi vero ipse non propter lubidinem lib. V tanta flagitia et faciat et dicat. 4.74. —sic igitur adfecto haec adhibenda curatio est, ut et illud quod cupiat ostendatur ostendat s ostendatur Dav. ostendas Bouhier quam leve, quam contemnendum, quam nihili nihil V sit omnino, quam facile vel aliunde vel aliunde bis K 1 vel ali ende G (i in r. et u? ) vel alio modo perfici vel omnino neglegi possit; abducendus etiam est non etiam est non in r. V c numquam ad alia studia sollicitudines curas negotia, loci denique mutatione tamquam aegroti non convalescentes saepe curandus est; 4.75. etiam novo quidam amore veterem amorem Hier. epist. 125, 14 tamquam clavo clavo clava V clavum eiciendum putant; maxume autem admonendus idmonendus V 3 est, quantus sit furor amoris. add. Bai. omnibus enim ex animi perturbationibus est profecto nulla vehementior, ut, si iam ipsa illa accusare accuss. K nolis, stupra dico et corruptelas et adulteria, incesta denique, quorum omnium accusabilis accuss. K est turpitudo,—sed ut haec omittas, omittas ex comitas V 3 perturbatio ipsa mentis in amore foeda per se est. 4.76. nam ut illa praeteream, quae sunt furoris, futuris K 1 furoris haec ipsa per sese sese V ( exp. 3 ) quam habent levitatem, quae videntur esse mediocria, Iniu/riae Ter. Eun. 59–63 Suspi/ciones i/nimicitiae induciae RV indu/tiae Bellu/m pax rursum! ince/rta haec si tu si tu s sit ut X ( prius t exp. V 3 ) po/stules Ratio/ne certa fa/cere, nihilo plu/s plus add. G 2 agas, Quam si/ des operam, ut cu/m ratione insa/nias. haec inconstantia mutabilitasque mentis quem non ipsa pravitate deterreat? est etiam etiam Man. enim illud, quod in omni perturbatione dicitur, demonstrandum, nullam esse nisi opinabilem, nisi iudicio susceptam, nisi voluntariam. etenim si naturalis amor esset, amor esset ex amorem et K c et amarent omnes et semper amarent et idem amarent, et idem amarent om. H neque alium pudor, alium cogitatio, alium satietas deterreret. etenim ... 26 deterreret H deterret G 1 Ira vero, quae quae -ae in r. V 2 quam diu perturbat animum, dubitationem insaniae non habet, cuius inpulsu imp. KR existit etiam inter fratres tale iurgium: 5.32. Adducis aducis R me, ut tibi adsentiar. sed tua quoque vide ne desideretur constantia. adducis...4 constantia add. G 2 in mg. Quonam modo? Quia legi tuum nuper quartum quarum V 1 de finibus; in eo mihi videbare contra Catonem disserens hoc velle ostendere—quod mihi quidem probatur probare KR —inter Zenonem et Peripateticos nihil praeter verborum novitatem interesse. quod si ita est, quid qui G 1 est causae quin, si Zenonis rationi consentaneum sit satis magnam vim in virtute esse ad beate vivendum, liceat idem Peripateticis peripatercis K 1 dicere? rem enim opinor opinior K spectari oportere, non verba. 5.120. quorum controversiam solebat tamquam honorarius arbiter iudicare Carneades. nam cum, quaecumque nam quaecumque ..mque cum V ( initium non dispicitur ) bona Peripateticis, eadem Stoicis commoda viderentur neque tamen Peripatetici plus tribuerent divitiis bonae valetudini ceteris rebus generis eiusdem quam Stoici, cum ea re, non verbis ponderarentur, causam esse dissidendi dissidendi s desiderandi X negabat. quare hunc locum ceterarum disciplinarum philosophi quem ad modum optinere possint, ipsi viderint; mihi tamen gratum est, quod de sapientium sapientiam G 1 ( corr. 1 ) V perpetua pertua R 1 bene bene bona V vivendi facultate dignum quiddam quiddam s V b quidam X philosophorum voce profitentur. | |
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4. Philodemus, Epigrams, 22 (2nd cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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5. Dionysius of Halycarnassus, Roman Antiquities, 7.71 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 7.71. 1. Anyone else might have assumed that the ceremonies now practised in the city were enough even by themselves to afford no slight indication of the ancient observances. But for my part, lest anyone should hold this to be weak evidence, according to that improbable assumption that after the Romans had conquered the whole Greek world they would gladly have scorned their own customs and adopted the better ones in their stead, I shall adduce my evidence from the time when they did not as yet possess the supremacy over Greece or dominion over any other country beyond the sea; and I shall cite Quintus Fabius as my authority, without requiring any further confirmation. For he is the most ancient of all the Roman historians and offers proof of what he asserts, not only from the information of others, but also from his own knowledge.,2. This festival, therefore, the Roman senate ordered to be celebrated, as I said before, pursuant to the vow made by the dictator Aulus Postumius when he was upon the point of giving battle to the Latins, who had revolted from the Romans and were endeavouring to restore Tarquinius to power; and they ordered five hundred minae of silver to be expended every year upon the sacrifices and the games, a sum the Romans laid out on the festival till the time of the Punic War.,3. During these holidays not only were many other observances carried out according to the customs of the Greeks, in connection with the general assemblies, the reception of strangers, and the cessation of hostilities, which it would be a big task to describe, but also those relating to the procession, the sacrifice, and the games â these are sufficient to give an idea of those I do not mention â which were as follows: |
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6. Horace, Sermones, 1.2.116-1.2.118 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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7. Lucretius Carus, On The Nature of Things, 4.1069-4.1073 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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8. Ovid, Ars Amatoria, 2.683-2.684, 2.725-2.728 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
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9. Strabo, Geography, 10.4.12 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
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10. Vergil, Aeneis, 5.292-5.344, 9.176-9.449 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 5.292. where her safe house and pretty nestlings lie 5.293. oars from her nest, with whirring wings—but soon 5.294. through the still sky she takes her path of air 5.295. on pinions motionless. So Pristis sped 5.296. with Mnestheus, cleaving her last stretch of sea 5.297. by her own impulse wafted. She outstripped 5.298. Sergestus first; for he upon the reef 5.299. fought with the breakers, desperately shouting 5.300. for help, for help in vain, with broken oars 5.301. contriving to move on. Then Mnestheus ran 5.302. past Gyas, in Chimaera's ponderous hulk 5.303. of pilot now bereft; at last remains 5.304. Cloanthus his sole peer, whom he pursues 5.305. with a supreme endeavor. From the shore 5.306. burst echoing cheers that spur him to the chase 5.307. and wild applause makes all the welkin ring. 5.308. The leaders now with eager souls would scorn 5.309. to Iose their glory, and faint-hearted fail 5.310. to grasp a prize half-won, but fain would buy 5.311. honor with life itself; the followers too 5.312. are flushed with proud success, and feel them strong 5.313. because their strength is proven. Both ships now 5.314. with indistinguishable prows had sped 5.315. to share one prize,—but with uplifted hands 5.316. pread o'er the sea, Cloanthus, suppliant 5.317. called on the gods to bless his votive prayer: 5.318. “Ye gods who rule the waves, whose waters be 5.319. my pathway now; for you on yonder strand 5.320. a white bull at the altar shall be slain 5.321. in grateful tribute for a granted vow; 5.322. and o'er the salt waves I will scatter far 5.323. the entrails, and outpour the flowing wine.” 5.324. He spoke; and from the caverns under sea 5.325. Phorcus and virgin Panopea heard 5.326. and all the sea-nymphs' choir; while with strong hand 5.327. the kindly God of Havens rose and thrust 5.328. the gliding ship along, that swifter flew 5.329. than south wind, or an arrow from the string 5.331. Aeneas then, assembling all to hear 5.332. by a far-sounding herald's voice proclaimed 5.333. Cloanthus victor, and arrayed his brows 5.334. with the green laurel-garland; to the crews 5.335. three bulls, at choice, were given, and plenteous wine 5.336. and talent-weight of silver; to the chiefs 5.337. illustrious gifts beside; the victor had 5.338. a gold-embroidered mantle with wide band 5.339. of undulant Meliboean purple rare 5.340. where, pictured in the woof, young Ganymede 5.341. through Ida's forest chased the light-foot deer 5.342. with javelin; all flushed and panting he. 5.343. But lo! Jove's thunder-bearing eagle fell 5.344. and his strong talons snatched from Ida far 9.176. is ours already; thousands of sharp swords 9.177. Italia 's nations bring. Small fear have I 9.178. of Phrygia 's boasted omens. What to me 9.179. their oracles from heaven? The will of Fate 9.180. and Venus have achieved their uttermost 9.181. in casting on Ausonia's fruitful shore 9.182. yon sons of Troy . I too have destinies: 9.183. and mine, good match for theirs, with this true blade 9.184. will spill the blood of all the baneful brood 9.185. in vengeance for my stolen wife. Such wrongs 9.186. move not on Atreus' sons alone, nor rouse 9.187. only Mycenae to a righteous war. 9.188. Say you, ‘ Troy falls but once?’ One crime, say I 9.189. hould have contented them; and now their souls 9.190. hould little less than loathe all womankind. 9.191. These are the sort of soldiers that be brave 9.192. behind entrenchment, where the moated walls 9.193. may stem the foe and make a little room 9.194. betwixt themselves and death. Did they not see 9.195. how Troy 's vast bulwark built by Neptune's hand 9.196. crumbled in flame? Forward, my chosen brave! 9.197. Who follows me to cleave his deadly way 9.198. through yonder battlement, and leap like storm 9.199. upon its craven guard? I have no need 9.200. of arms from Vulcan's smithy; nor of ships 9.201. a thousand strong against our Teucrian foes 9.202. though all Etruria's league enlarge their power. 9.203. Let them not fear dark nights, nor coward theft 9.204. of Pallas' shrine, nor murdered sentinels 9.205. on their acropolis. We shall not hide 9.206. in blinding belly of a horse. But I 9.207. in public eye and open day intend 9.208. to compass their weak wall with siege and fire. 9.209. I'll prove them we be no Pelasgic band 9.210. no Danaan warriors, such as Hector's arm 9.211. ten years withstood. But look! this day hath spent 9.212. its better part. In what remains, rejoice 9.213. in noble deeds well done; let weary flesh 9.214. have rest and food. My warriors, husband well 9.215. your strength against to-morrow's hopeful war.” 9.216. Meanwhile to block their gates with wakeful guard 9.217. is made Messapus' work, and to gird round 9.218. their camp with watchfires. Then a chosen band 9.219. twice seven Rutulian chieftains, man the walls 9.220. with soldiery; each leads a hundred men 9.221. crested with crimson, armed with glittering gold. 9.222. Some post to separate sentries, and prepare 9.223. alternate vigil; others, couched on grass 9.224. laugh round the wine and lift the brazen bowls. 9.225. The camp-fires cheerly burn; the jovial guard 9.227. The Trojans peering from the lofty walls 9.228. urvey the foe, and arm for sure defence 9.229. of every point exposed. They prove the gates 9.230. with fearful care, bind bridge with tower, and bring 9.231. good store of javelins. Serestus bold 9.232. and Mnestheus to their labors promptly fly 9.233. whom Sire Aeneas bade in time of stress 9.234. to have authority and free command 9.235. over his warriars. Along the walls 9.236. the legions, by the cast of lots, divide 9.237. the pain and peril, giving each his due 9.239. Nisus kept sentry at the gate: a youth 9.240. of eager heart for noble deeds, the son 9.241. of Hyrtacus, whom in Aeneas' train 9.242. Ida the huntress sent; swift could he speed 9.243. the spear or light-winged arrow to its aim. 9.244. Beside him was Euryalus, his friend: 9.245. of all th' Aeneadae no youth more fair 9.246. wore Trojan arms; upon his cheek unshorn 9.247. the tender bloom of boyhood lingered still. 9.248. Their loving hearts were one, and oft in war 9.249. they battled side by side, as in that hour 9.250. a common sentry at the gate they shared. 9.251. Said Nisus: “Is it gods above that breathe 9.252. this fever in my soul, Euryalus? 9.253. or is the tyrant passion of each breast 9.254. the god it serves? Me now my urgent mind 9.255. to battles or some mighty deed impels 9.256. and will not give me rest. Look yonder, where 9.257. the Rutuli in dull security 9.258. the siege maintain. Yet are their lights but few. 9.259. They are asleep or drunk, and in their line 9.260. is many a silent space. O, hear my thought 9.261. and what my heart is pondering. To recall 9.262. Aeneas is the dearest wish to-night 9.263. of all, both high and low. They need true men 9.264. to find him and bring tidings. If our chiefs 9.265. but grant me leave to do the thing I ask 9.266. (Claiming no reward save what honor gives) 9.267. methinks I could search out by yonder hill 9.268. a path to Pallanteum.” The amazed 9.269. Euryalus, flushed warm with eager love 9.270. for deeds of glory, instantly replied 9.271. to his high-hearted friend: “Dost thou refuse 9.272. my Nisus, to go with me hand in hand 9.273. when mighty deeds are done? Could I behold 9.274. thee venturing alone on danger? Nay! 9.275. Not thus my sire Opheltes, schooled in war 9.276. taught me his true child, 'mid the woes of Troy 9.277. and Argive terrors reared; not thus with thee 9.278. have I proved craven, since we twain were leal 9.279. to great Aeneas, sharing all his doom. 9.280. In this breast also is a heart which knows 9.281. contempt of life, and deems such deeds, such praise 9.282. well worth a glorious death.” Nisus to him: 9.283. “I have not doubted thee, nor e'er could have 9.284. one thought disloyal. May almighty Jove 9.285. or whatsoe'er good power my purpose sees 9.286. bring me triumphant to thy arms once more! 9.287. But if, as oft in doubtful deeds befalls 9.288. ome stroke of chance, or will divine, should turn 9.289. to adverse, 't is my fondest prayer that thou 9.290. houldst live the longer of us twain. Thy years 9.291. uit better with more life. Oh! let there be 9.292. one mourner true to carry to its grave 9.293. my corpse, recaptured in the desperate fray 9.294. or ransomed for a price. Or if this boon 9.295. hould be—'t is Fortune's common way—refused 9.296. then pay the debt of grief and loyal woe 9.297. unto my far-off dust, and garlands leave 9.298. upon an empty tomb. No grief I give 9.299. to any sorrowing mother; one alone 9.300. of many Trojan mothers, had the heart 9.301. to follow thee, her child, and would not stay 9.302. in great Acestes' land.” His friend replied: 9.303. “Thou weavest but a web of empty words 9.304. and reasons vain, nor dost thou shake at all 9.305. my heart's resolve. Come, let us haste away!” 9.306. He answered so, and summoned to the gate 9.307. a neighboring watch, who, bringing prompt relief 9.308. the sentry-station took; then quitted he 9.309. his post assigned; at Nisus' side he strode 9.311. Now in all lands all creatures that have breath 9.312. lulled care in slumber, and each heart forgot 9.313. its load of toil and pain. But they who led 9.314. the Teucrian cause, with all their chosen brave 9.315. took counsel in the kingdom's hour of need 9.316. what action to command or whom dispatch 9.317. with tidings to Aeneas. In mid-camp 9.318. on long spears leaning and with ready shield 9.319. to leftward slung, th' assembled warriors stood. 9.320. Thither in haste arrived the noble pair 9.321. brave Nisus with Euryalus his friend 9.322. and craved a hearing, for their suit, they said 9.323. was urgent and well-worth a patient ear. 9.324. Iulus to the anxious striplings gave 9.325. a friendly welcome, bidding Nisus speak. 9.326. The son of Hyrtacus obeyed: “O, hear 9.327. Princes of Teucria, with impartial mind 9.328. nor judge by our unseasoned youth the worth 9.329. of what we bring. Yon Rutule watch is now 9.330. in drunken sleep, and all is silent there. 9.331. With our own eyes we picked out a good place 9.332. to steal a march, that cross-road by the gate 9.333. close-fronting on the bridge. Their lines of fire 9.334. are broken, and a murky, rolling smoke 9.335. fills all the region. If ye grant us leave 9.336. by this good luck to profit, we will find 9.337. Aeneas and the walls of Palatine 9.338. and after mighty slaughter and huge spoil 9.339. ye soon shall see us back. Nor need ye fear 9.340. we wander from the way. oft have we seen 9.341. that city's crest loom o'er the shadowy vales 9.342. where we have hunted all day long and know 9.343. each winding of yon river.” Then uprose 9.344. aged Aletes, crowned with wisdom's years: 9.345. “Gods of our fathers, who forevermore 9.346. watch over Troy, ye surely had no mind 9.347. to blot out Teucria's name, when ye bestowed 9.348. uch courage on young hearts, and bade them be 9.349. o steadfast and so leal.” Joyful he clasped 9.350. their hands in his, and on their shoulders leaned 9.351. his aged cheek and visage wet with tears. 9.352. “What reward worthy of such actions fair 9.353. dear heroes, could be given? Your brightest prize 9.354. will come from Heaven and your own hearts. The rest 9.355. Aeneas will right soon bestow; nor will 9.356. Ascanius, now in youth's unblemished prime 9.357. ever forget your praise.” Forthwith replied 9.358. Aeneas' son, “By all our household gods 9.359. by great Assaracus, and every shrine 9.360. of venerable Vesta, I confide 9.361. my hopes, my fortunes, and all future weal 9.362. to your heroic hearts. O, bring me back 9.363. my father! Set him in these eyes once more! 9.364. That day will tears be dry; and I will give 9.365. two silver wine-cups graven and o'erlaid 9.366. with clear-cut figures, which my father chose 9.367. out of despoiled Arisbe; also two 9.368. full talents of pure gold, and tripods twain 9.369. and ancient wine-bowl, Tyrian Dido's token. 9.370. But if indeed our destiny shall be 9.371. to vanquish Italy in prosperous war 9.372. to seize the sceptre and divide the spoil, — 9.373. aw you that steed of Turnus and the arms 9.374. in which he rode, all golden? That same steed 9.375. that glittering shield and haughty crimson crest 9.376. I will reserve thee, e'er the lots are cast 9.377. and, Nisus, they are thine. Hereto my sire 9.378. will add twelve captive maids of beauty rare 9.379. and slaves in armor; last, thou hast the fields 9.380. which now Latinus holds. But as for thee 9.381. to whom my youth but binds me closer still 9.382. thee, kingly boy, my whole heart makes my own 9.383. and through all changeful fortune we shall be 9.384. inseparable peers: nor will I seek 9.385. renown and glory, or in peace or war 9.386. forgetting thee: but trust thee from this day 9.387. in deed and word.” To him in answer spoke 9.388. euryalus, “O, may no future show 9.389. this heart unworthy thy heroic call! 9.390. And may our fortune ever prosperous prove 9.391. not adverse. But I now implore of thee 9.392. a single boon worth all beside. I have 9.393. a mother, from the venerated line 9.394. of Priam sprung, whom not the Trojan shore 9.395. nor King Acestes' city could detain 9.396. alas! from following me. I leave her now 9.397. without farewell; nor is her love aware 9.398. of my supposed peril. For I swear 9.399. by darkness of this night and thy right hand 9.400. that all my courage fails me if I see 9.401. a mother's tears. O, therefore, I implore 9.402. be thou her sorrow's comfort and sustain 9.403. her solitary day. Such grace from thee 9.404. equip me for my war, and I shall face 9.405. with braver heart whatever fortune brings.” 9.406. With sudden sorrow thrilled, the veteran lords 9.407. of Teucria showed their tears. But most of all 9.408. uch likeness of his own heart's filial love 9.409. on fair Iulus moved, and thus he spoke: 9.410. “Promise thyself what fits thy generous deeds. 9.411. Thy mother shall be mine, Creusa's name 9.412. alone not hers; nor is the womb unblest 9.413. that bore a child like thee. Whate'er success 9.414. may follow, I make oath immutable 9.415. by my own head, on which my father swore 9.416. that all I promise thee of gift or praise 9.417. if home thou comest triumphing, shall be 9.418. the glory of thy mother and thy kin.” 9.419. Weeping he spoke, and from his shoulder drew 9.420. the golden sword, well-wrought and wonderful 9.421. which once in Crete Lycaon's cunning made 9.422. and sheathed in ivory. On Nisus then 9.423. Mnestheus bestowed a shaggy mantle torn 9.424. from a slain lion; good Aletes gave 9.425. exchange of crested helms. In such array 9.426. they hastened forth; and all the princely throng 9.427. young men and old, ran with them to the gates 9.428. praying all gods to bless. Iulus then 9.429. a fair youth, but of grave, heroic soul 9.430. beyond his years, gave them in solemn charge 9.431. full many a message for his sire, but these 9.432. the hazard of wild winds soon scattered far 9.434. Forth through the moat they climb, and steal away 9.435. through midnight shades, to where their foemen lie 9.436. encamped in arms; of whom, before these fall 9.437. a host shall die. Along the turf were seen 9.438. laid low in heavy slumber and much wine 9.439. a prostrate troop; the horseless chariots 9.440. tood tilted on the shore, 'twixt rein and wheel 9.441. the drivers dozed, wine-cups and idle swords 9.442. trewn round them without heed. The first to speak 9.443. was Nisus. “Look, Euryalus,” he cried 9.444. “Now boldly strike. The hour to do the deed 9.445. is here, the path this way. Keep wide-eyed watch 9.446. that no man smite behind us. I myself 9.447. will mow the mighty fieid, and lead thee on 9.448. in a wide swath of slaughter.” With this word 9.449. he shut his lips; and hurled him with his sword |
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11. Plutarch, Dialogue On Love, 766c (1st cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
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12. Plutarch, Mark Antony, 36.7, 60.5 (1st cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
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13. Plutarch, On Common Conceptions Against The Stoics, 1073b (1st cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
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14. Tacitus, Annals, 14.20 (1st cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 14.20. In the consulate of Nero â his fourth term â and of Cornelius Cossus, a quinquennial competition on the stage, in the style of a Greek contest, was introduced at Rome. Like almost all innovations it was variously canvassed. Some insisted that "even Pompey had been censured by his elders for establishing the theatre in a permanent home. Before, the games had usually been exhibited with the help of improvised tiers of benches and a stage thrown up for the occasion; or, to go further into the past, the people stood to watch: seats in the theatre, it was feared, might tempt them to pass whole days in indolence. By all means let the spectacles be retained in their old form, whenever the praetor presided, and so long as no citizen lay under any obligation to compete. But the national morality, which had gradually fallen into oblivion, was being overthrown from the foundations by this imported licentiousness; the aim of which was that every production of every land, capable of either undergoing or engendering corruption, should be on view in the capital, and that our youth, under the influence of foreign tastes, should degenerate into votaries of the gymnasia, of indolence, and of dishonourable amours, â and this at the instigation of the emperor and senate, who, not content with conferring immunity upon vice, were applying compulsion, in order that Roman nobles should pollute themselves on the stage under pretext of delivering an oration or a poem. What remained but to strip to the skin as well, put on the gloves, and practise that mode of conflict instead of the profession of arms? Would justice be promoted, would the equestrian decuries better fulfil their great judicial functions, if they had lent an expert ear to emasculated music and dulcet voices? Even night had been requisitioned for scandal, so that virtue should not be left with a breathing-space, but that amid a promiscuous crowd every vilest profligate might venture in the dark the act for which he had lusted in the light. |
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15. Pliny The Younger, Letters, 4.22 (2nd cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 4.22. To Sempronius Rufus. I have been called in by our excellent Emperor to take part and advise upon the following case. Under the will of a certain person, it has been the custom at Vienna * to hold a gymnastic contest. Trebonius Rufus, a man of high principle and a personal friend of mine, in his capacity of duumvir, discontinued and abolished the custom, and it was objected that he had no legal authority to do so. He pleaded his case not only with eloquence but to good effect, and what lent force to his pleading was that he spoke with discretion and dignity, as a Roman and a good citizen should, in a matter that concerned himself. When the opinion of the Council was taken, Junius Mauricus, who stands second to none for strength of will and devotion to truth, was against restoring the contest to the people of Vienna, and he added, "I wish the games could be abolished at Rome as well." That is a bold consistent line, you will say. So it is, but that is no new thing with Mauricus. He spoke just as frankly before the Emperor Nerva. Nerva was dining with a few friends; Veiento was sitting next to him and was leaning on his shoulder - I need say no more after mentioning the man's name. The conversation turned upon Catullus Messalinus, who was blind, and had that curse to bear in addition to his savage disposition. He was void of fear, shame, and pity, and on that account Domitian often used him as a tool for the destruction of the best men in the State, just as though he were a dart urging on its blind and sightless course. All at table were speaking of this man's villainy and bloody counsels, when the Emperor himself said |
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16. Pliny The Younger, Letters, 4.22 (2nd cent. CE - 2nd cent. CE)
| 4.22. To Sempronius Rufus. I have been called in by our excellent Emperor to take part and advise upon the following case. Under the will of a certain person, it has been the custom at Vienna * to hold a gymnastic contest. Trebonius Rufus, a man of high principle and a personal friend of mine, in his capacity of duumvir, discontinued and abolished the custom, and it was objected that he had no legal authority to do so. He pleaded his case not only with eloquence but to good effect, and what lent force to his pleading was that he spoke with discretion and dignity, as a Roman and a good citizen should, in a matter that concerned himself. When the opinion of the Council was taken, Junius Mauricus, who stands second to none for strength of will and devotion to truth, was against restoring the contest to the people of Vienna, and he added, "I wish the games could be abolished at Rome as well." That is a bold consistent line, you will say. So it is, but that is no new thing with Mauricus. He spoke just as frankly before the Emperor Nerva. Nerva was dining with a few friends; Veiento was sitting next to him and was leaning on his shoulder - I need say no more after mentioning the man's name. The conversation turned upon Catullus Messalinus, who was blind, and had that curse to bear in addition to his savage disposition. He was void of fear, shame, and pity, and on that account Domitian often used him as a tool for the destruction of the best men in the State, just as though he were a dart urging on its blind and sightless course. All at table were speaking of this man's villainy and bloody counsels, when the Emperor himself said |
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17. Diogenes Laertius, Lives of The Philosophers, 7.36, 7.128, 7.175 (3rd cent. CE - 3rd cent. CE)
| 7.36. of the many disciples of Zeno the following are the most famous: Persaeus, son of Demetrius, of Citium, whom some call a pupil and others one of the household, one of those sent him by Antigonus to act as secretary; he had been tutor to Antigonus's son Halcyoneus. And Antigonus once, wishing to make trial of him, caused some false news to be brought to him that his estate had been ravaged by the enemy, and as his countece fell, Do you see, said he, that wealth is not a matter of indifference?The following works are by Persaeus:of Kingship.The Spartan Constitution.of Marriage.of Impiety.Thyestes.of Love.Exhortations.Interludes.Four books of Anecdotes.Memorabilia.A Reply to Plato's Laws in seven books. 7.128. For if magimity by itself alone can raise us far above everything, and if magimity is but a part of virtue, then too virtue as a whole will be sufficient in itself for well-being – despising all things that seem troublesome. Panaetius, however, and Posidonius deny that virtue is self-sufficing: on the contrary, health is necessary, and some means of living and strength.Another tenet of theirs is the perpetual exercise of virtue, as held by Cleanthes and his followers. For virtue can never be lost, and the good man is always exercising his mind, which is perfect. Again, they say that justice, as well as law and right reason, exists by nature and not by convention: so Chrysippus in his work On the Morally Beautiful. 7.175. Antiquities.of the Gods.of Giants.of Marriage.On Homer.of Duty, three books.of Good Counsel.of Gratitude.An Exhortation.of the Virtues.of Natural Ability.of Gorgippus.of Envy.of Love.of Freedom.The Art of Love.of Honour.of Fame.The Statesman.of Deliberation.of Laws.of Litigation.of Education.of Logic, three books.of the End.of Beauty.of Conduct.of Knowledge.of Kingship.of Friendship.On the Banquet.On the Thesis that Virtue is the same in Man and in Woman.On the Wise Man turning Sophist.of Usages.Lectures, two books.of Pleasure.On Properties.On Insoluble Problems.of Dialectic.of Moods or Tropes.of Predicates.This, then, is the list of his works. |
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18. Augustine, The City of God, 9.4-9.5, 14.9, 14.16-14.20 (4th cent. CE - 5th cent. CE)
| 9.4. Among the philosophers there are two opinions about these mental emotions, which the Greeks call παθη, while some of our own writers, as Cicero, call them perturbations, some affections, and some, to render the Greek word more accurately, passions. Some say that even the wise man is subject to these perturbations, though moderated and controlled by reason, which imposes laws upon them, and so restrains them within necessary bounds. This is the opinion of the Platonists and Aristotelians; for Aristotle was Plato's disciple, and the founder of the Peripatetic school. But others, as the Stoics, are of opinion that the wise man is not subject to these perturbations. But Cicero, in his book De Finibus, shows that the Stoics are here at variance with the Platonists and Peripatetics rather in words than in reality; for the Stoics decline to apply the term goods to external and bodily advantages, because they reckon that the only good is virtue, the art of living well, and this exists only in the mind. The other philosophers, again, use the simple and customary phraseology, and do not scruple to call these things goods, though in comparison of virtue, which guides our life, they are little and of small esteem. And thus it is obvious that, whether these outward things are called goods or advantages, they are held in the same estimation by both parties, and that in this matter the Stoics are pleasing themselves merely with a novel phraseology. It seems, then, to me that in this question, whether the wise man is subject to mental passions, or wholly free from them, the controversy is one of words rather than of things; for I think that, if the reality and not the mere sound of the words is considered, the Stoics hold precisely the same opinion as the Platonists and Peripatetics. For, omitting for brevity's sake other proofs which I might adduce in support of this opinion, I will state but one which I consider conclusive. Aulus Gellius, a man of extensive erudition, and gifted with an eloquent and graceful style, relates, in his work entitled Noctes Attic that he once made a voyage with an eminent Stoic philosopher; and he goes on to relate fully and with gusto what I shall barely state, that when the ship was tossed and in danger from a violent storm, the philosopher grew pale with terror. This was noticed by those on board, who, though themselves threatened with death, were curious to see whether a philosopher would be agitated like other men. When the tempest had passed over, and as soon as their security gave them freedom to resume their talk, one of the passengers, a rich and luxurious Asiatic, begins to banter the philosopher, and rally him because he had even become pale with fear, while he himself had been unmoved by the impending destruction. But the philosopher availed himself of the reply of Aristippus the Socratic, who, on finding himself similarly bantered by a man of the same character, answered, You had no cause for anxiety for the soul of a profligate debauchee, but I had reason to be alarmed for the soul of Aristippus. The rich man being thus disposed of, Aulus Gellius asked the philosopher, in the interests of science and not to annoy him, what was the reason of his fear? And he willing to instruct a man so zealous in the pursuit of knowledge, at once took from his wallet a book of Epictetus the Stoic, in which doctrines were advanced which precisely harmonized with those of Zeno and Chrysippus, the founders of the Stoical school. Aulus Gellius says that he read in this book that the Stoics maintain that there are certain impressions made on the soul by external objects which they call phantasi, and that it is not in the power of the soul to determine whether or when it shall be invaded by these. When these impressions are made by alarming and formidable objects, it must needs be that they move the soul even of the wise man, so that for a little he trembles with fear, or is depressed by sadness, these impressions anticipating the work of reason and self-control; but this does not imply that the mind accepts these evil impressions, or approves or consents to them. For this consent is, they think, in a man's power; there being this difference between the mind of the wise man and that of the fool, that the fool's mind yields to these passions and consents to them, while that of the wise man, though it cannot help being invaded by them, yet retains with unshaken firmness a true and steady persuasion of those things which it ought rationally to desire or avoid. This account of what Aulus Gellius relates that he read in the book of Epictetus about the sentiments and doctrines of the Stoics I have given as well as I could, not, perhaps, with his choice language, but with greater brevity, and, I think, with greater clearness. And if this be true, then there is no difference, or next to none, between the opinion of the Stoics and that of the other philosophers regarding mental passions and perturbations, for both parties agree in maintaining that the mind and reason of the wise man are not subject to these. And perhaps what the Stoics mean by asserting this, is that the wisdom which characterizes the wise man is clouded by no error and sullied by no taint, but, with this reservation that his wisdom remains undisturbed, he is exposed to the impressions which the goods and ills of this life (or, as they prefer to call them, the advantages or disadvantages) make upon them. For we need not say that if that philosopher had thought nothing of those things which he thought he was immediately to lose, life and bodily safety, he would not have been so terrified by his danger as to betray his fear by the pallor of his cheek. Nevertheless, he might suffer this mental disturbance, and yet maintain the fixed persuasion that life and bodily safety, which the violence of the tempest threatened to destroy, are not those good things which make their possessors good, as the possession of righteousness does. But in so far as they persist that we must call them not goods but advantages, they quarrel about words and neglect things. For what difference does it make whether goods or advantages be the better name, while the Stoic no less than the Peripatetic is alarmed at the prospect of losing them, and while, though they name them differently, they hold them in like esteem? Both parties assure us that, if urged to the commission of some immorality or crime by the threatened loss of these goods or advantages, they would prefer to lose such things as preserve bodily comfort and security rather than commit such things as violate righteousness. And thus the mind in which this resolution is well grounded suffers no perturbations to prevail with it in opposition to reason, even though they assail the weaker parts of the soul; and not only so, but it rules over them, and, while it refuses its consent and resists them, administers a reign of virtue. Such a character is ascribed to Æneas by Virgil when he says, He stands immovable by tears, Nor tenderest words with pity hears. 9.5. We need not at present give a careful and copious exposition of the doctrine of Scripture, the sum of Christian knowledge, regarding these passions. It subjects the mind itself to God, that He may rule and aid it, and the passions, again, to the mind, to moderate and bridle them, and turn them to righteous uses. In our ethics, we do not so much inquire whether a pious soul is angry, as why he is angry; not whether he is sad, but what is the cause of his sadness; not whether he fears, but what he fears. For I am not aware that any right thinking person would find fault with anger at a wrongdoer which seeks his amendment, or with sadness which intends relief to the suffering, or with fear lest one in danger be destroyed. The Stoics, indeed, are accustomed to condemn compassion. But how much more honorable had it been in that Stoic we have been telling of, had he been disturbed by compassion prompting him to relieve a fellow-creature, than to be disturbed by the fear of shipwreck! Far better and more humane, and more consot with pious sentiments, are the words of Cicero in praise of C sar, when he says, Among your virtues none is more admirable and agreeable than your compassion. And what is compassion but a fellow-feeling for another's misery, which prompts us to help him if we can? And this emotion is obedient to reason, when compassion is shown without violating right, as when the poor are relieved, or the penitent forgiven. Cicero, who knew how to use language, did not hesitate to call this a virtue, which the Stoics are not ashamed to reckon among the vices, although, as the book of the eminent Stoic, Epictetus, quoting the opinions of Zeno and Chrysippus, the founders of the school, has taught us, they admit that passions of this kind invade the soul of the wise man, whom they would have to be free from all vice. Whence it follows that these very passions are not judged by them to be vices, since they assail the wise man without forcing him to act against reason and virtue; and that, therefore, the opinion of the Peripatetics or Platonists and of the Stoics is one and the same. But, as Cicero says, mere logomachy is the bane of these pitiful Greeks, who thirst for contention rather than for truth. However, it may justly be asked, whether our subjection to these affections, even while we follow virtue, is a part of the infirmity of this life? For the holy angels feel no anger while they punish those whom the eternal law of God consigns to punishment, no fellow-feeling with misery while they relieve the miserable, no fear while they aid those who are in danger; and yet ordinary language ascribes to them also these mental emotions, because, though they have none of our weakness, their acts resemble the actions to which these emotions move us; and thus even God Himself is said in Scripture to be angry, and yet without any perturbation. For this word is used of the effect of His vengeance, not of the disturbing mental affection. 14.9. But so far as regards this question of mental perturbations, we have answered these philosophers in the ninth book of this work, showing that it is rather a verbal than a real dispute, and that they seek contention rather than truth. Among ourselves, according to the sacred Scriptures and sound doctrine, the citizens of the holy city of God, who live according to God in the pilgrimage of this life, both fear and desire, and grieve and rejoice. And because their love is rightly placed, all these affections of theirs are right. They fear eternal punishment, they desire eternal life; they grieve because they themselves groan within themselves, waiting for the adoption, the redemption of their body; Romans 8:23 they rejoice in hope, because there shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. 1 Corinthians 15:54 In like manner they fear to sin, they desire to persevere; they grieve in sin, they rejoice in good works. They fear to sin, because they hear that because iniquity shall abound, the love of many shall wax cold. Matthew 24:12 They desire to persevere, because they hear that it is written, He that endures to the end shall be saved. Matthew 10:22 They grieve for sin, hearing that If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 1 John 1:8 They rejoice in good works, because they hear that the Lord loves a cheerful giver. 2 Corinthians 9:7 In like manner, according as they are strong or weak, they fear or desire to be tempted, grieve or rejoice in temptation. They fear to be tempted, because they hear the injunction, If a man be overtaken in a fault, you which are spiritual restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering yourself, lest you also be tempted. Galatians 6:l They desire to be tempted, because they hear one of the heroes of the city of God saying, Examine me, O Lord, and tempt me: try my reins and my heart. They grieve in temptations, because they see Peter weeping; Matthew 26:75 they rejoice in temptations, because they hear James saying, My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various temptations. James 1:2 And not only on their own account do they experience these emotions, but also on account of those whose deliverance they desire and whose perdition they fear, and whose loss or salvation affects them with grief or with joy. For if we who have come into the Church from among the Gentiles may suitably instance that noble and mighty hero who glories in his infirmities, the teacher (doctor) of the nations in faith and truth, who also labored more than all his fellow apostles, and instructed the tribes of God's people by his epistles, which edified not only those of his own time, but all those who were to be gathered in - that hero, I say, and athlete of Christ, instructed by Him, anointed of His Spirit, crucified with Him, glorious in Him, lawfully maintaining a great conflict on the theatre of this world, and being made a spectacle to angels and men, 1 Corinthians 4:9 and pressing onwards for the prize of his high calling, Philippians 3:14 - very joyfully do we with the eyes of faith behold him rejoicing with them that rejoice, and weeping with them that weep; Romans 12:15 though hampered by fightings without and fears within; 2 Corinthians 7:5 desiring to depart and to be with Christ; Philippians 1:23 longing to see the Romans, that he might have some fruit among them as among other Gentiles; Romans 1:11-13 being jealous over the Corinthians, and fearing in that jealousy lest their minds should be corrupted from the chastity that is in Christ; 2 Corinthians 11:1-3 having great heaviness and continual sorrow of heart for the Israelites, Romans 9:2 because they, being ignorant of God's righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves unto the righteousness of God; Romans 10:3 and expressing not only his sorrow, but bitter lamentation over some who had formally sinned and had not repented of their uncleanness and fornications. 2 Corinthians 12:21 If these emotions and affections, arising as they do from the love of what is good and from a holy charity, are to be called vices, then let us allow these emotions which are truly vices to pass under the name of virtues. But since these affections, when they are exercised in a becoming way, follow the guidance of right reason, who will dare to say that they are diseases or vicious passions? Wherefore even the Lord Himself, when He condescended to lead a human life in the form of a slave, had no sin whatever, and yet exercised these emotions where He judged they should be exercised. For as there was in Him a true human body and a true human soul, so was there also a true human emotion. When, therefore, we read in the Gospel that the hard-heartedness of the Jews moved Him to sorrowful indignation, Mark 3:5 that He said, I am glad for your sakes, to the intent you may believe, John 11:15 that when about to raise Lazarus He even shed tears, John 11:35 that He earnestly desired to eat the passover with His disciples, Luke 22:15 that as His passion drew near His soul was sorrowful, Matthew 26:38 these emotions are certainly not falsely ascribed to Him. But as He became man when it pleased Him, so, in the grace of His definite purpose, when it pleased Him He experienced those emotions in His human soul. But we must further make the admission, that even when these affections are well regulated, and according to God's will, they are peculiar to this life, not to that future life we look for, and that often we yield to them against our will. And thus sometimes we weep in spite of ourselves, being carried beyond ourselves, not indeed by culpable desire; but by praiseworthy charity. In us, therefore, these affections arise from human infirmity; but it was not so with the Lord Jesus, for even His infirmity was the consequence of His power. But so long as we wear the infirmity of this life, we are rather worse men than better if we have none of these emotions at all. For the apostle vituperated and abominated some who, as he said, were without natural affection. Romans 1:31 The sacred Psalmist also found fault with those of whom he said, I looked for some to lament with me, and there was none. For to be quite free from pain while we are in this place of misery is only purchased, as one of this world's literati perceived and remarked, at the price of blunted sensibilities both of mind and body. And therefore that which the Greeks call ἀπαθεια, and what the Latins would call, if their language would allow them, impassibilitas, if it be taken to mean an impassibility of spirit and not of body, or, in other words, a freedom from those emotions which are contrary to reason and disturb the mind, then it is obviously a good and most desirable quality, but it is not one which is attainable in this life. For the words of the apostle are the confession, not of the common herd, but of the eminently pious, just, and holy men: If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. 1 John 1:8 When there shall be no sin in a man, then there shall be this απάθεια . At present it is enough if we live without crime; and he who thinks he lives without sin puts aside not sin, but pardon. And if that is to be called apathy, where the mind is the subject of no emotion, then who would not consider this insensibility to be worse than all vices? It may, indeed, reasonably be maintained that the perfect blessedness we hope for shall be free from all sting of fear or sadness; but who that is not quite lost to truth would say that neither love nor joy shall be experienced there? But if by apathy a condition be meant in which no fear terrifies nor any pain annoys, we must in this life renounce such a state if we would live according to God's will, but may hope to enjoy it in that blessedness which is promised as our eternal condition. For that fear of which the Apostle John says, There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear has torment. He that fears is not made perfect in love, 1 John 4:18 - that fear is not of the same kind as the Apostle Paul felt lest the Corinthians should be seduced by the subtlety of the serpent; for love is susceptible of this fear, yea, love alone is capable of it. But the fear which is not in love is of that kind of which Paul himself says, For you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear. Romans 8:15 But as for that clean fear which endures for ever, if it is to exist in the world to come (and how else can it be said to endure for ever?), it is not a fear deterring us from evil which may happen, but preserving us in the good which cannot be lost. For where the love of acquired good is unchangeable, there certainly the fear that avoids evil is, if I may say so, free from anxiety. For under the name of clean fear David signifies that will by which we shall necessarily shrink from sin, and guard against it, not with the anxiety of weakness, which fears that we may strongly sin, but with the tranquillity of perfect love. Or if no kind of fear at all shall exist in that most imperturbable security of perpetual and blissful delights, then the expression, The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever, must be taken in the same sense as that other, The patience of the poor shall not perish forever. For patience, which is necessary only where ills are to be borne, shall not be eternal, but that which patience leads us to will be eternal. So perhaps this clean fear is said to endure for ever, because that to which fear leads shall endure. And since this is so - since we must live a good life in order to attain to a blessed life, a good life has all these affections right, a bad life has them wrong. But in the blessed life eternal there will be love and joy, not only right, but also assured; but fear and grief there will be none. Whence it already appears in some sort what manner of persons the citizens of the city of God must be in this their pilgrimage, who live after the spirit, not after the flesh - that is to say, according to God, not according to man - and what manner of persons they shall be also in that immortality whither they are journeying. And the city or society of the wicked, who live not according to God, but according to man, and who accept the doctrines of men or devils in the worship of a false and contempt of the true divinity, is shaken with those wicked emotions as by diseases and disturbances. And if there be some of its citizens who seem to restrain and, as it were, temper those passions, they are so elated with ungodly pride, that their disease is as much greater as their pain is less. And if some, with a vanity monstrous in proportion to its rarity, have become enamored of themselves because they can be stimulated and excited by no emotion, moved or bent by no affection, such persons rather lose all humanity than obtain true tranquillity. For a thing is not necessarily right because it is inflexible, nor healthy because it is insensible. 14.16. Although, therefore, lust may have many objects, yet when no object is specified, the word lust usually suggests to the mind the lustful excitement of the organs of generation. And this lust not only takes possession of the whole body and outward members, but also makes itself felt within, and moves the whole man with a passion in which mental emotion is mingled with bodily appetite, so that the pleasure which results is the greatest of all bodily pleasures. So possessing indeed is this pleasure, that at the moment of time in which it is consummated, all mental activity is suspended. What friend of wisdom and holy joys, who, being married, but knowing, as the apostle says, how to possess his vessel in santification and honor, not in the disease of desire, as the Gentiles who know not God, 1 Thessalonians 4:4 would not prefer, if this were possible, to beget children without this lust, so that in this function of begetting offspring the members created for this purpose should not be stimulated by the heat of lust, but should be actuated by his volition, in the same way as his other members serve him for their respective ends? But even those who delight in this pleasure are not moved to it at their own will, whether they confine themselves to lawful or transgress to unlawful pleasures; but sometimes this lust importunes them in spite of themselves, and sometimes fails them when they desire to feel it, so that though lust rages in the mind, it stirs not in the body. Thus, strangely enough, this emotion not only fails to obey the legitimate desire to beget offspring, but also refuses to serve lascivious lust; and though it often opposes its whole combined energy to the soul that resists it, sometimes also it is divided against itself, and while it moves the soul, leaves the body unmoved. 14.17. Justly is shame very specially connected with this lust; justly, too, these members themselves, being moved and restrained not at our will, but by a certain independent autocracy, so to speak, are called shameful. Their condition was different before sin. For as it is written, They were naked and were not ashamed, Genesis 2:25 - not that their nakedness was unknown to them, but because nakedness was not yet shameful, because not yet did lust move those members without the will's consent; not yet did the flesh by its disobedience testify against the disobedience of man. For they were not created blind, as the unenlightened vulgar fancy; for Adam saw the animals to whom he gave names, and of Eve we read, The woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes. Genesis 3:6 Their eyes, therefore were open, but were not open to this, that is to say, were not observant so as to recognize what was conferred upon them by the garment of grace, for they had no consciousness of their members warring against their will. But when they were stripped of this grace, that their disobedience might be punished by fit retribution, there began in the movement of their bodily members a shameless novelty which made nakedness indecent: it at once made them observant and made them ashamed. And therefore, after they violated God's command by open transgression, it is written: And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons. Genesis 3:7 The eyes of them both were opened, not to see, for already they saw, but to discern between the good they had lost and the evil into which they had fallen. And therefore also the tree itself which they were forbidden to touch was called the tree of the knowledge of good and evil from this circumstance, that if they ate of it it would impart to them this knowledge. For the discomfort of sickness reveals the pleasure of health. They knew, therefore, that they were naked,- naked of that grace which prevented them from being ashamed of bodily nakedness while the law of sin offered no resistance to their mind. And thus they obtained a knowledge which they would have lived in blissful ignorance of, had they, in trustful obedience to God, declined to commit that offense which involved them in the experience of the hurtful effects of unfaithfulness and disobedience. And therefore, being ashamed of the disobedience of their own flesh, which witnessed to their disobedience while it punished it, they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons, that is, cinctures for their privy parts; for some interpreters have rendered the word by succinctoria. Campestria is, indeed, a Latin word, but it is used of the drawers or aprons used for a similar purpose by the young men who stripped for exercise in the campus; hence those who were so girt were commonly called campestrati. Shame modestly covered that which lust disobediently moved in opposition to the will, which was thus punished for its own disobedience. Consequently all nations, being propagated from that one stock, have so strong an instinct to cover the shameful parts, that some barbarians do not uncover them even in the bath, but wash with their drawers on. In the dark solitudes of India also, though some philosophers go naked, and are therefore called gymnosophists, yet they make an exception in the case of these members and cover them. 14.18. Lust requires for its consummation darkness and secrecy; and this not only when un lawful intercourse is desired, but even such fornication as the earthly city has legalized. Where there is no fear of punishment, these permitted pleasures still shrink from the public eye. Even where provision is made for this lust, secrecy also is provided; and while lust found it easy to remove the prohibitions of law, shamelessness found it impossible to lay aside the veil of retirement. For even shameless men call this shameful; and though they love the pleasure, dare not display it. What! Does not even conjugal intercourse, sanctioned as it is by law for the propagation of children, legitimate and honorable though it be, does it not seek retirement from every eye? Before the bridegroom fondles his bride, does he not exclude the attendants, and even the paranymphs, and such friends as the closest ties have admitted to the bridal chamber? The greatest master of Roman eloquence says, that all right actions wish to be set in the light, i.e., desire to be known. This right action, however, has such a desire to be known, that yet it blushes to be seen. Who does not know what passes between husband and wife that children may be born? Is it not for this purpose that wives are married with such ceremony? And yet, when this well-understood act is gone about for the procreation of children, not even the children themselves, who may already have been born to them, are suffered to be witnesses. This right action seeks the light, in so far as it seeks to be known, but yet dreads being seen. And why so, if not because that which is by nature fitting and decent is so done as to be accompanied with a shame-begetting penalty of sin? 14.19. Hence it is that even the philosophers who have approximated to the truth have avowed that anger and lust are vicious mental emotions, because, even when exercised towards objects which wisdom does not prohibit, they are moved in an ungoverned and inordinate manner, and consequently need the regulation of mind and reason. And they assert that this third part of the mind is posted as it were in a kind of citadel, to give rule to these other parts, so that, while it rules and they serve, man's righteousness is preserved without a breach. These parts, then, which they acknowledge to be vicious even in a wise and temperate man, so that the mind, by its composing and restraining influence, must bridle and recall them from those objects towards which they are unlawfully moved, and give them access to those which the law of wisdom sanctions - that anger, e.g., may be allowed for the enforcement of a just authority, and lust for the duty of propagating offspring - these parts, I say, were not vicious in Paradise before sin, for they were never moved in opposition to a holy will towards any object from which it was necessary that they should be withheld by the restraining bridle of reason. For though now they are moved in this way, and are regulated by a bridling and restraining power, which those who live temperately, justly, and godly exercise, sometimes with ease, and sometimes with greater difficulty, this is not the sound health of nature, but the weakness which results from sin. And how is it that shame does not hide the acts and words dictated by anger or other emotions, as it covers the motions of lust, unless because the members of the body which we employ for accomplishing them are moved, not by the emotions themselves, but by the authority of the consenting will? For he who in his anger rails at or even strikes some one, could not do so were not his tongue and hand moved by the authority of the will, as also they are moved when there is no anger. But the organs of generation are so subjected to the rule of lust, that they have no motion but what it communicates. It is this we are ashamed of; it is this which blushingly hides from the eyes of onlookers. And rather will a man endure a crowd of witnesses when he is unjustly venting his anger on some one, than the eye of one man when he innocently copulates with his wife. 14.20. It is this which those canine or cynic philosophers have overlooked, when they have, in violation of the modest instincts of men, boastfully proclaimed their unclean and shameless opinion, worthy indeed of dogs, viz., that as the matrimonial act is legitimate, no one should be ashamed to perform it openly, in the street or in any public place. Instinctive shame has overborne this wild fancy. For though it is related that Diogenes once dared to put his opinion in practice, under the impression that his sect would be all the more famous if his egregious shamelessness were deeply graven in the memory of mankind, yet this example was not afterwards followed. Shame had more influence with them, to make them blush before men, than error to make them affect a resemblance to dogs. And possibly, even in the case of Diogenes, and those who did imitate him, there was but an appearance and pretence of copulation, and not the reality. Even at this day there are still Cynic philosophers to be seen; for these are Cynics who are not content with being clad in the pallium, but also carry a club; yet no one of them dares to do this that we speak of. If they did, they would be spat upon, not to say stoned, by the mob. Human nature, then, is without doubt ashamed of this lust; and justly so, for the insubordination of these members, and their defiance of the will, are the clear testimony of the punishment of man's first sin. And it was fitting that this should appear specially in those parts by which is generated that nature which has been altered for the worse by that first and great sin - that sin from whose evil connection no one can escape, unless God's grace expiate in him individually that which was perpetrated to the destruction of all in common, when all were in one man, and which was avenged by God's justice. |
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