Preparation for the Gospel

^A For one might say that he does not suggest what is generally thought. For it is not the case that, to speak unequivocally, all women are common, so as to permit whoredom to anyone who happens by, but that the distribution of them among the men lies within the authority of the magistrates. For that is how they are common, just as one might say public funds are common, which are distributed to those to whom it is proper by those entrusted with them. Let this be assumed as it is. But what would you say, having learned that he orders that even what is conceived should not be brought to light? Saying thus: “For a woman,” said I, “beginning from twenty years of age, until forty, to bear for the city; and for a man, when he has passed the ^B swiftest prime of life, to beget for the city until fifty-five years; to which he adds, ‘But when, I suppose, both the women and the men have moved beyond the age for begetting, we shall leave them free to associate with whomsoever they wish.’” And he adds: “Ordering them to be eager, if possible, not even to bring any fetus to light, if it should be born; but if anyone should prevail, to expose it in such a way, as there being no nourishment for such a creature.” Such, then, are his teachings concerning women. But hear what he holds regarding lawless love.

CHAPTER XX.

What Plato determined regarding lawless love in the Phaedrus, to which the things ordained by Moses are contrary.

“But if he continues ^C to do this for a longer time, and approaches nearer, and touches him in the gymnasia and in other associations, then that fountain of that flow, which Zeus, smitten with love for Ganymede, called desire, flowing in great abundance upon the lover, partly enters into him, and partly, when he is full, flows out; and like a breeze, or some echo, rebounding from smooth and solid surfaces, to where it first arose, is carried back again: so the stream of beauty, flowing back into the beautiful one through the eyes, where it is natural for it to pass into the soul, having arrived and leaping up the passages of the wings, irrigates them and impels ^D them to grow wings, and in turn fills the soul of the beloved with love. He loves indeed, but he is at a loss as to what he is suffering, and neither knows what has befallen him, nor can he explain it; but as if he had received ophthalmia from someone else, he has no pretext to give.” And he adds thereafter, as in Plato.

^A “He desires, he says, though less vehemently, to see, to touch, to kiss, to lie down with him; and indeed, as is natural, he quickly does these things thereafter. Therefore, in the sharing of the bed, the lover's wanton horse has something to say to the charioteer, and deems it right to enjoy some small reward for many labors. But the horse of the beloved has nothing to say; but, swelling and being at a loss, he embraces the lover and kisses him, as if warmly greeting one very dear to him. And when they lie down together, he is of such a nature as not to refuse, on his part, to grant what the lover desires, should he ask. If, then, the better parts of the mind prevail toward a disciplined life and philosophy, they lead here a blessed and harmonious life, being self-controlled and orderly.” Then, after some other things, he adds: ^B “But if they shall use a way of life that is rather burdensome and unphilosophical and ambitious, perhaps in drunkenness or some other negligence, their two wanton yoke-fellows, finding their souls off guard, having brought them together to the same point, have chosen and carried out that pursuit which is deemed blessed by the multitude; and having carried it out, they occupy themselves with it for the rest of their time, but rarely, since they are not doing what is approved by the whole mind. They are indeed dear to one another, though less so than the former, and live together both through love and when beside themselves, thinking they have given and received the greatest pledges for one another, which it is not holy to break and ever come into enmity. And at the end, wingless but eager to sprout wings, they depart from the body. So that they bear no small prize for their erotic madness. For it is not the law for those who have already started on the heavenly journey to go into the darkness and the journey under the earth, but, having led a bright life, to be happy walking with one another, and for the sake of love to be winged together.” These things, so great, ^C O son, and in such a way, will the friendship from a lover bestow upon you. Such are the things of Plato; but not so those of Moses, who expressly legislates things contrary to these, with a great voice bringing forward the punishment befitting those who practice pederasty. He says, therefore: “Whoever shall lie with a male as with a woman, both have done an abomination; let them be put to death, they are guilty.” And: “Cursed is everyone who lies with a male as with a woman.” Why is it necessary now to refute how the wisest man, ^D concerning the pederast—for he did not even deem it worthy in his Laws to define a death penalty against pederasts—orders that a slave be punished with death who has not reported a treasure found by someone else? But listen to these also, that you may not suppose that I am slandering him.

CHAPTER XXI. Regarding the laws of Plato concerning murders, which are unworthy of his greatness of mind, and with which the laws of Moses should be compared.

^B Listen also to this from his laws which he ordained concerning murderers: “If anyone kills a free man with his own hand, but the act has been committed unpremeditatedly, in some fit of anger, let him suffer whatever else is fitting for one who has killed without anger; but he must go into exile for two years, to chasten his own anger.” And next to this he adds another such law: “But he who kills with anger, but with premeditation—as regards the other matters, it shall be as in the previous case, but he shall go into exile for three years, just as the other went for two, punished with a longer time for the magnitude of his anger.” ^C Then next, concerning the person who has committed a second murder, he legislates as follows: “But if, having returned to his country, one or the other of them, overcome by anger, again commits this same crime, having fled, let him not return again.” And again next he says: “But if it happens—though it happens rarely—that a father or mother, through anger, kills a son or daughter with blows, or in some violent manner, let them undergo the same purifications as the others, and go into exile for three years. And when the killers have returned, let the wife be separated from the husband, and the husband from the wife, and let them never again beget children together.” ^D And to these he adds: “But if a husband kills his own wedded wife through anger, or a wife kills her husband in the same way, let them be purified by the same purificatory rites, and let them serve three years in exile. And having returned, let the person who has done such a thing have no communion in sacred rites with his own children, nor ever be partaker at their table. And if a brother kills a brother, or a sister a sister, in anger, as regards the rites of purification and the years of exile, let it be said that the rules which have been spoken for parents and their offspring must also be observed for these, whom he has bereft of brothers and parents; and let him never be at the same hearth with them, nor a partaker of sacred rites. But if a brother kills a brother in uprisings, when a battle has occurred, or in some such way, defending himself against one who was the first to lay hands on him, just as if he had killed an enemy, let him be clean. And if a citizen...

^A should kill a foreigner, or a foreigner a citizen, in like manner, let him be clean. And if a slave should kill a slave, likewise. But if a slave should kill a free man in self-defense, let him be held liable to the same laws as one who has killed a father. Whoever shall have killed one of his own people, premeditatedly [anonymized citation] and unjustly, let him first be excluded from lawful things, neither defiling the market, nor sanctuaries, nor harbors, nor any other gathering of any kind, whether any man forbids the doer of these things or not; for the law forbids it. And he who does not pursue him, when he ought, or who does not give warning, let him be excluded from those within the degree of cousins. Secondly, let him be liable to anyone who wishes to take vengeance on behalf of the deceased. And if a woman should wound her husband with intent to kill from a plot, or a husband his own wife, let him be perpetually exiled. Such are the laws of the philosopher. But if you wish also to compare those of Moses with these, listen to what is ordained concerning murders: «If anyone strikes a person and he dies, let him be put to death. But if he did not do it intentionally, but God delivered him into his hands, I will appoint for you a place to which the manslayer shall flee. But if anyone should set upon his neighbor to kill him ^B by craft, and he should flee, you shall take him from my altar to put him to death. He who strikes his father, or his mother, let him be put to death. And if two men should quarrel, and one strikes his neighbor with a stone or with his fist, and he does not die, but lies in his bed; if he should get up and walk abroad upon his staff, let the one who struck him be innocent, except that he shall pay for his loss of time and for the medical expenses. And if anyone should strike his manservant, or his maidservant, with a rod, and they should die under his hands, he shall be held guilty. And if anyone should strike the eye of a bondservant, or the eye of his handmaid, and blinds him, he shall send them away free, in return for their eye [Exod. XXI, 12-26 ].» Such are the things of Moses as well. But hear further in what manner, and for what causes, Plato orders the servant to be scourged with inescapable blows: «Whenever anyone wishes to pluck the grapes ^C now called noble, or the noble figs so named, if he takes them from his own, let him reap them as he wishes and whenever he wishes. But if from others, without having persuaded the owner, following the principle of not moving what one did not deposit, let him always be punished. And if he be a slave, having not persuaded the master of the fields, and touches any of such things, for every grape and every fig of the fig tree, let him be scourged with an equal number of lashes.» Such are the laws concerning these matters, not worthy of Plato’s greatness of mind. Yet how solemn and humane are the things of Moses! ^D There are also subsequent notes [index: entries preserved]

others. In this regard, how generous and humanitarian Moses showed himself, you may understand from his words that follow: "If you have entered your neighbor's vineyard, eat grapes as much as your soul desires, but you shall not put any into a vessel." And again: "If you have entered into the grain crop of your neighbor, gather ears with your hands, but you shall not put a sickle into the harvest of your neighbor." And again: "If you have reaped your harvest in your field, and have forgotten a sheaf in your field, you shall not return to take it; it shall be for the poor, and the stranger, and the orphan, and the widow, so that the Lord your God may bless you in all the work of your hands. ^A If, however, you have gathered olives, you shall not return to glean what you have left behind; it shall be for the stranger, and for the orphan, and for the widow." Thus far Moses. Plato also has many things that are free from reproach. We embrace whatever is most honest and excellent from these, and bid the rest to depart far away. But since we have already pursued these matters at length, and have brought forward the cause for which we have not willed to follow the philosophy of Plato, it is now time to complete the discussion we have undertaken, and to explore the other sects of Greek philosophy. ^B

PREPARATION FOR THE GOSPEL BOOK FOURTEEN

CHAPTERS OF THE FOURTEENTH BOOK

1. Proemium, in which the argument of the book is explained. 2. Concerning the mutual dissension and conflict of the philosophers. 3. Concerning the agreement of those according to the Hebrews. 4. How Plato refutes those before him. From the Theaetetus. 5. Concerning the first succession according to Plato. From Numenius the Pythagorean. 6. Concerning Arcesilaus, who instituted the second Academy. From the same. 7. Concerning Lacydes, who succeeded Arcesilaus. From the same. ^C 8. Concerning Carneades, who instituted the third Academy. From the same. 9. Concerning Philo, who succeeded Clitomachus, who had received Carneades. From the same. 10. That there are conjectures, and word-battles, and much error among the Greek philosophers. From the epistle of Porphyry to Nectanebo, and other things. ^D

11. On geometry, astronomy, and calculation. From Xenophon’s Memorable Acts. 12. On those who boasted of explaining the nature of things. From the same. 13. On the arts of gymnastics and music. From Plato’s Republic. 14. Opinions of philosophers concerning first principles. From Plutarch. 15. On the opinion of Anaxagoras. From Plato. 16. Opinions of philosophers concerning the gods. From Plutarch. 17. Against those around Xenophanes and Parmenides, who abolish the senses. From Aristocles. 18. Against the skeptics according to Pyrrho, or those called ^A eph-ectics (suspensive), who declared that nothing can be comprehended. From the same Aristocles. 19. Against those around Aristippus, the philosophers who say that only the passions are comprehensible, and that all other things are incomprehensible. From the same. 20. Against those who say that one should trust only in the senses: Metrodorus and Protagoras. From the same. 21. Against those who define pleasure as the end, according to Epicurus. From the same. 22. Again, against those who define pleasure as the good. From Plato. 23. Against those who, according to Epicurus, deny Providence and attribute the whole universe to atomic bodies. From the works of Dionysius, Bishop of Alexandria. 24. That the dogma of the Epicureans is refuted by common examples from among men. From the same. 25. The same, from the constitution of the whole universe. From the same. 26. The same, concluded from the nature of man. From the same. 27. That the performance of His works is not laborious or irksome to God. From the same. ^B

CHAPTER I. Prooemium, in which the subject of the book is explained.

Having gone through in the preceding book the arguments of the Platonic philosophy, so far as it was worth the while to recount or hear them, as well as its agreement with the oracles of the Hebrews, for which reason I have greatly admired the man, and again his disagreement with them, for which no sensible person would follow him, I now turn to the remaining sects of those who have attained fame for philosophy among the Greeks. And I shall set before the eyes and in the sight of those who read, their divergence from the truth—not by my own words or on my own authority, but again through the testimony of the Greek writings themselves; ^D not that I am hostile to any of these men—whom, indeed, I profess to admire greatly, so long as I compare them with others, that is, when I compare men with men. But when they are compared with the theologians and prophets of the Hebrews, and with God himself, who through them both foretold the future and performed such great miracles—nay, who also established the rites of the most holy religions and the teaching of the truth—I certainly think that no one can reasonably find fault with us if we prefer God to men, and truth itself to the mortal reasonings and conjectures of men. The entire scope of this present Preparation is ambitious to demonstrate this one thing, as an answer and defense at once to those who inquire what good or noble thing we saw in—

^A the writings of the barbarians, that we have deemed them preferable to our own native and noble philosophy—I mean that of the Greeks. But let the demonstration proceed through actual deeds.

Chapter II. Concerning the dissension and conflict of the philosophers among themselves.

It seems to me that I must first of all begin from the very first foundation of the philosophers among the Greeks, to inquire into those who lived before Plato—those called "naturalists"—to understand who they were and what kind of philosophy it was that flourished in their age. Then I must move to the succession of Plato, and see who they were, and how they fought with each other in words and opinions. Then we shall look at the discord ^B of other sects, and the contradictions of their dogmas, in which I shall present to the spectators, as if on a stage, these noble combatants, striking and sparring with one another with great zeal. We shall see, right away, how Plato mocked those before him, and how, in turn, others mocked Plato’s own friends and successors. Again, we shall see how Plato’s companions refuted the ingenious ideas of Aristotle’s multi-faceted mind, and how those who boast of Aristotle himself and the Peripatetic name showed that the things brought forward by the defenders of the opposing faction were nothing at all. ^C Furthermore, you will see the keen and subtle hair-splitting of the Stoics mocked by others, and all of them everywhere covered in dust, strenuously engaging in battle and wrestling against their neighbors, as if, no longer just by hand and tongue, or rather by pen and ink, they were preparing a mutual war, striking and being struck by one another with the javelins of their arguments and all manner of weaponry. Our theater in this gymnastic contest will also contain, besides those previously mentioned, those athletes stripped of all truth who have taken up arms against the entire crowd of philosophers whom we call "dogmatists"—I mean the followers of Pyrrho, who declared that nothing in human experience is graspable; and those of Aristippus, who said that only sensations of pain are graspable; and again, those following Metrodorus and Protagoras, who asserted that one must trust only in the sensations of the body. ^D Against these, on the other hand, we shall bring into the fray the disciples of Xenophanes and Parmenides, who set themselves in opposition and utterly stripped away all reliability from the senses. Nor shall we omit the champions of pleasure; rather, we shall add their leader, Epicurus, to the rest. In every kind of question, they shall be refuted by me with their own missiles and weapons; and as for all those who bear the name of "naturalists," I shall bring to light the discord of their dogmas and the useless chatter and frivolous contentions of their research. And this I do, not at all out of any hatred for the Greek name or for liberal education, from which I am very far removed, but to free myself from the cause of reproach regarding why I have so little esteemed Greek philosophy—having, as it is said, preferred the oracles of the Hebrews.

CHAPTER III. On the complete harmony of the Hebrew doctrines.

^A The Hebrews, from an ancient time and, so to speak, from the very first human generation, having diligently and thoroughly investigated the true and pious philosophy, have transmitted it healthy and intact to those who followed; and their children, having received it from their fathers as a kind of treasure of the words of truth, have guarded it so that they dared neither to add to nor take away anything from those things once decided. Consequently, the all-wise Moses—who, as is clearly evident from what has been said before, is more ancient than all the Greeks, yet was the youngest in age of the Hebrews who lived before him—decided to move or change nothing of the dogmatic theological principles which had been sanctioned by the most ancient fathers, but only established for his own people, whom he governed, a suitable and appropriate manner of life and a form of moderate ^B government tempered by laws. Nor did the prophets who came after him, who flourished many thousands of years later, dare to utter a single word that was discordant either with themselves or with those things which were considered as established by Moses and those who were dear to God of old. Furthermore, neither does the school which is ours, which originated from that same source and which by divine power has filled both the entire Greek and barbarian world, contain anything discordant with the things that came before—unless one should say that it delivers to us not only the dogmas of theology, but also in the manner of life, the same teaching which was given to those Hebrews who were dear to God before Moses. And our own affairs are such that, testified to with one voice by the first, the middle, and the ^C last practitioners, the certainty of true piety and philosophy is sealed by the votes of all, and it fills the entire world, putting forth new life and flourishing every day, as if it had only just begun to grow. Neither the decrees of laws, nor the plots of enemies, nor the swords of opponents, which have often been sharpened against us, have been able to demonstrate any strength greater than the virtue of the words we have pursued.

But let us now behold what kind of strength the philosophy of the Greeks, which is tossed and agitated on shoals, has exhibited, by bringing forward first of all those who are called the natural philosophers. ^D How they struggled against one another, even before Plato shone forth, one can learn from Plato himself, who refutes the contention of those around Protagoras, Heraclitus, and Empedocles with Parmenides and his followers. For Protagoras, who was a companion of Democritus, labored under the opinion of atheism. It is said, indeed, that he used the following opening in his work *On the Gods*: "Concerning the gods, I am unable to know either that they exist, or that they do not exist, or what their form may be." And Democritus said that the principles of all things are the void and the solid; calling the solid "what is" and the void "what is not." For which reason he also says that what is, is no more than what is not, because the things that are are continually and rapidly moved in the void from eternity. Heraclitus said that fire is the principle of all things, from which all things come to be and into which they are dissolved. For he says that all things are an exchange, and that the time of their

resolution into fire, and of their generation back again from fire, is fixed. Now these men argued that all things are in motion. But Parmenides, an Eleatic by birth, taught that the universe is one, and is unbegotten, immovable, and spherical in shape. He had Melissus as a follower, who held the same opinions as Parmenides. Now hear how Plato discusses all these matters in the *Theaetetus*.

CHAPTER IV. How Plato refutes the earlier philosophers; from the Theaetetus.

"‘For it is from flow (96) and motion, and the mixing of things with one another, that all things come to be, of which we say that they are, speaking incorrectly. For nothing ever is, but all things are always coming to be.’ And regarding this, all the wise men in succession, except Parmenides, agree: Protagoras, Heraclitus, Empedocles, and the chief of both kinds of poetry—of comedy, Epicharmus, and of tragedy, Homer. For having said,

‘Ocean, the origin of the gods, and mother Tethys,’

he has said that all things are the offspring of flux and motion. Or does this not seem to you to be his meaning?" "It seems so indeed." "Who then, henceforth, could escape laughter who wishes to fight against such an army, and Homer himself as its general?" Then, proceeding further in his argument, he adds: "‘We must therefore approach closer,’ he says, 'as the argument in defense of Protagoras commanded, and testing it more diligently, explore whether this agitated nature utters a sound that is healthy or defective. Regarding it, the dispute is certainly neither ordinary nor stirred up by a few.’" "By heaven, it is far from being ordinary, for it thrives and spreads mightily throughout all Ionia. For the followers of Heraclitus support this doctrine (99) very vigorously." "Therefore, my dear Theodorus, we must consider it all the more from the beginning, as they themselves propose." "Certainly. For indeed, Socrates, regarding these Heracliteans, or—as you say—Homerics and those even more ancient, it is no more possible to debate with those around Ephesus themselves, who claim to be experts in these matters, than with those stung by the gadfly. For they are borne along just according to their writings (2); but to remain in an argument and to answer and ask in turn quietly they are no more able than… [alt-version omitted]

… ^A to converse with the insane and the furious. For in truth they are carried away by the very impulse which they display so greatly in their writings. And there is nothing at which they are so little capable as the ability, in their own discussions and questions, to sustain themselves somewhat and quietly to ask and answer in turn; nay, to do even this—what we say—to concede that one thing is not another, is too much, as if it signified that this class of men has not even the smallest amount of moderation. By heaven, if you ask them anything, immediately, as if from a quiver, they shoot out little words like riddles; and if you seek to get an account of this—what it is they have said—you will be struck by another, newly renamed term; ^B and you will never accomplish anything at all with any of them, nor indeed can they do so with each other, but they are very careful not to let anything be stable, neither in discourse nor in their own souls, thinking (as it seems to me) that it is their own stability. This position they fight against with all their might, and as far as they are able, they cast it out from every side. Perhaps, Theodore, you have seen these men fighting, but you have not associated with them when they are at peace; for they are not your companions. But, I suppose, they explain these things at their leisure to those disciples whom they wish to make like themselves. — To what disciples, my good sir? Why, no one of such men ever becomes a disciple of another, but they spring up spontaneously, from wherever it may happen, each of them seized with his own inspiration, ^C and each deems that the other knows nothing. Now, from these, as I said, you would never get an account, neither if they were willing nor if they were unwilling; but we must take them ourselves as a problem and examine them. — And you speak with moderation. But what other problem, pray, have we received, than that which we had from those ancients who, through poetic coverings, wished to hide from the common herd that Oceanus and Tethys are the parents and sources of all things, and that everything is in a constant flow, and nothing stands still? Or that which we have from the later thinkers, who, as if they were wiser, reveal themselves and indicate it openly, so that even the cobblers may understand their wisdom by hearing it, and cease to think foolishly that some existing things stand still while others move; but having learned that all things are in motion, ^D may they honor them? But I nearly forgot, Theodore, that others again have expressed themselves quite the opposite to this. As, for instance:

*One is the name for the All, which remains unchanging,*

and whatever other things of that kind Melissus and Parmenides, opposing all these, maintain with the highest contention: that all things are one, and that it stands in itself, having no place in which to move. What, then, my friend, shall we do with all these? For by advancing little by little, we have unawares fallen between both parties. And if we do not find some way to break through and escape, we shall pay the penalty for our rashness, just as happens to those who play on the line in the wrestling schools, when, having been caught by both sides, they are dragged in opposite directions. These things are in the *Theaetetus*. Passing on next to the *Sophist*, he says the following about the natural philosophers who had preceded him: “It seems to me that Parmenides—”

^A and anyone who has ever attempted to define for us the *what* and the *how many* of beings—has taken his turn at a cursory judgment. Each one of them seems to me to be telling us a sort of myth, as if we were children. One says that beings are three, and that some of them are sometimes at war with each other, while at other times they become friends, providing marriages, and births, and the feeding of their offspring. Another says there are two—maybe moist and dry, or hot and cold—and joins them together and gives them away. Our own Eleatic nation, starting from Xenophanes and even earlier, goes through their myths on the assumption that what is called 'all' is one. But some Ionian and Sicilian Muses later on ^B thought it safer to combine both, and to say that what is is both many and one, and is held together by hatred and love. 'For while disagreeing, it is brought to agreement,' as the more intense Muses sing. The softer ones have relaxed this—that it is always thus—but occasionally they say that the whole is one and is made friendly by Aphrodite, and at other times that it is many, and at war with itself because of some strife. Now, whether any of these have spoken the truth or not, it would be a serious and offensive thing to reproach such great and ancient men.” And after a few words, he adds: “We have not, then, gone through all those who have argued more precisely about what is and what is not; ^C nevertheless, let this suffice. We must look at those who argue differently, so that we may see from all of them that it is not easier to say what that which is not is. We must therefore proceed to these as well. And yet, there appears to be something like a battle of gods and giants among them, because of their dispute with each other about existence. — How so? — Some bring everything down to earth from heaven and from the invisible, literally grasping rocks and oaks with their hands. For they touch all such things, and insist that only that which provides resistance and some kind of touch exists, defining body and existence as the same thing; but if any of the others says that something exists which does not have a body, they despise it entirely, and are unwilling to hear anything else. — You have described ^D a formidable sort of men. Indeed, I have already encountered many more of them than these. — Therefore, those who dispute against them defend themselves very cautiously from above, from some invisible place, insisting that certain intelligible and bodiless forms are the true existence; but it is their bodies, and what they call the 'truth' of these, that they break into small pieces in their arguments, calling it a kind of 'becoming' in motion rather than 'existence.' And in the midst of these, Theaetetus, there has always been an implacable battle for both sides. — True.” It is by way of such things that Plato has brought disrepute upon the natural philosophers before him. As for the opinion he himself held regarding these questions, we have discussed it in the preceding pages, where we showed that he agrees with the doctrines of the Hebrews and coincides with the teaching of Moses concerning the Existent.

Let us now, in due course, examine the successors of Plato himself. They say that Plato, having established his school in the Academy, was the first to be called an Academic, and that he founded the philosophy which has been named Academic. After Plato, Speusippus, who was the son of Plato's sister, Potone, took up the school; then Xenocrates; and after him, Polemo. ^A They say that these men, right from the start, began to dissolve the Platonic doctrines, distorting what seemed true to their teacher by the introduction of foreign dogmas. So do not hope that the power of those wonderful dialogues will last for long, or that the succession of doctrines will finally cease with the death of the man himself; for from this point a battle and faction began, which has never ceased down to the present day, to those who zealously embrace what is dear to him—of whom there are none, unless perhaps one or two in the whole of life, or a few others very small in number; and even they are not entirely free from superficial sophistry, since even those who first succeeded Plato are themselves tainted by this. For they say that Arcesilaus succeeded Polemo, a man about whom there is a tradition that he abandoned the doctrines of Plato and established a foreign, and, as they say, a second Academy. For they say that he maintained that one must suspend judgment on all matters, for all things are incomprehensible, and the arguments on both sides are of equal weight, and the senses are untrustworthy, as is every logos. ^B Indeed, he used to praise this maxim of Hesiod:

For the gods keep the mind of men in suspense.

He also attempted to innovate with certain paradoxical notions. After Arcesilaus, they say that those around Carneades and Clitomachus, having turned away from the opinion of their predecessors, were the authors of the third Academy. Some also add a fourth, that of the followers of Philo and Charmidas. Others even count a fifth, that of the followers of Antiochus. Such was the nature of the succession of Plato himself. If you wish to know what kind of men they were in this regard, take and read the words of Numenius the Pythagorean, which he has set down in the first of those books he wrote entitled *On the Schism of the Academics from Plato*.

CHAPTER V.

On the first succession according to Plato. From Numenius the Pythagorean.

"Plato," he says, "had a nephew by his sister, Speusippus; to him succeeded Xenocrates, whom ^C

^A Polemon followed in the direction of the school. Throughout [the tenure of] Xenocrates, the character of the doctrines remained approximately the same, on account of this much-talked-of epoch, and if there were any other such things. Although they departed in many respects 8 in other matters, and distorted some, they did not abide by the first succession. Starting from him, they divided—sooner or later—whether through choice or ignorance, or for some other cause, which was perhaps not a contentious one. And I do not wish to say anything disparaging for Xenocrates' sake, but rather I wish to [say it] for Plato’s sake. For it stings me that they did not suffer and act in all things so as to preserve for Plato an agreement in all things and in every way. Yet Plato was worthy of them—no better than the great Pythagoras, but perhaps not worse than him either—whom his acquaintances followed and venerated, and were the primary cause of Pythagoras being so highly honored. The Epicureans, indeed, did not achieve this, but having learned it, they were seen in no single instance to set themselves against Epicurus in any way, but having acknowledged that they were joined to a wise man, they themselves also ^B enjoyed this reputation, as was fitting. And from this it came about for a very long time for the later Epicureans neither to say anything contrary to him, nor to one another, nor to Epicurus in anything, in any matter worth mentioning. But for them, it is a transgression, or rather an impiety, and what is innovated is condemned. And for this reason, no one even dares [it]. For the doctrines rest in great peace among them due to the perpetual consensus that always exists between them. And the school of Epicurus resembles a true republic, most free from sedition, having one common mind, one thought. From which they were, and are, and, as it seems, will be followers. But the affairs of the Stoics are divided by faction, beginning from the leaders, and not yet ending even now. They carry out refutations 9 with bitterness—being themselves examined by an adversary—some of them having remained, others having already changed their positions. ^C It seems, therefore, that the first ones were more oligarchic, who, having dissented, were the cause of great rebuke among the later ones towards the previous ones, and great [rebuke] towards each other, with others being even more "Stoic" than others; and all the more so, the more they were seen to be pedants obsessed with technicalities. For these very people, surpassing others in meddlesomeness and in quibbles 11, found fault with them sooner. Yet long before these, those from the school of Socrates suffered these same things, after they had dragged away the discourses in different directions: Aristippus on his own, Antisthenes on his own, and the Megarians on their own in another place. ^D [The following is a representation in verse:]

To engage in dignified discourses, And in quibbles of trifles, To idle away the time, Is the mark of a deranged man.

Scholars also used to say, more comically, as Aristophanes [does] in the *Clouds*, page 164: "whoever is learning some small trifles." The Scholiast explains [these] as "small shavings," and absolutely minute thoughts, and "quibbles." From this he slanders Socrates, as if the things he teaches are cheap and worth no discourse.

^A And the Eretrians, or whoever else there may be along with them. The cause is that, since Socrates posited three gods and philosophized about them in rhythms appropriate to each, those who listened to this were ignorant of it, and were accustomed to say that he spoke everything at random, and according to the prevailing chance that happened to be blowing at any given time. But Plato, being a Pythagorean (for he knew that Socrates spoke and said these same things from no other source than that, and knowing it had spoken), bound the matters together in this way, neither in the usual manner nor openly; but having led each thing where he thought best, and having kept it hidden in the middle of being clear and not-clear, he wrote it down securely, yet he himself provided the cause for the contention and drawing-apart of doctrines that occurred after him, not indeed through envy or malice. But I do not wish to speak words against older men that are not fitting. ^B This, however, we must learn, in order to turn our opinion more toward that place, and just as we proposed from the beginning, to separate him from Aristotle and Zeno; so now, too, with the Academy, if God helps, we shall separate him, and we shall allow him for now to be a Pythagorean by himself. For as it is, he suffers in his members, being drawn apart more crazily than ought to happen to some Pentheus, yet he is in no way entirely displaced and interchanged from his whole self. As therefore a man mediating between Pythagoras and Socrates, having led the solemnity of the one as far as humanity, and having led the elegant and playful quality of the other from that irony of Socrates to a Pythagorean, he appeared more populist than the one and more solemn than the other. But I have not come to judge these things, since the investigation is not currently about them. What had been predetermined, to that I go, and I think I am running away as if into thin air, lest perhaps I be knocked off the road that leads there. ^C Now, Arcesilaus and Zeno became acquaintances of Polemo; for I shall mention them again at the end. I remember having said that Zeno studied with Xenocrates, then with Polemo, and afterward became a Cynic with Crates. But let it now be considered that he also participated in Stilpon, and in the Heraclitean discourses. For since, while studying together under Polemo, they vied with one another, they took into the battle against each other: for the one, Heraclitus, and Stilpon, and at the same time Crates, by whom he was made a fighter by Stilpon, severe by Heraclitus, and a Cynic by Crates; ^D and Arcesilaus took Theophrastus, and Crantor the Platonist, and Diodorus, and then Pyrrho; by whom he became persuasive through Crantor, a sophist through Diodorus, and through Pyrrho he became versatile, and slippery, and nothing at all. Which also gave rise to a verse spoken about him that is mocking and abusive: "Before a lion, and behind a dragon, and in the middle a chimera."

Diodorus.

And Timon says that he was equipped and armed with a certain sharpness by Menedemus. For thus he writes concerning him:

He, rushing, shall bear in the middle of his breast the lead of Menedemus, Or the high acorns of Pyrrho, or Diodorus.

^B 730 Therefore, weaving together the thorny subtleties of Diodorus the dialectician with the doubtful and ambiguous thoughts of Pyrrho, he sought to add to his trifling and inept loquacity some ornament from the power and faculty of Plato: a man of this sort, affirming simultaneously the same thing and denying the same thing, turning and revoking himself suddenly and rashly from here, from there, from both sides, or rather from all sides—of uncertain and ambiguous meaning, a crafty old fox, headlong, and, as he himself quite frankly confesses, knowing nothing at all, yet afterwards somehow appearing to those who knew as one who was like them: thus to every man he suddenly appeared as a shadowy phantom of discourse.

CHAPTER VI. Concerning Arcesilaus, who established the second Academy. From the same.

^C Nevertheless, he says, Arcesilaus was unknown, just as that Homeric Diomedes was ambiguous, wandering between the Trojans and the Achaeans. For he could never bring himself to say the same thing, nor did he think that such a thing at all belonged to a skillful mind. Therefore, he was called a sharp and vehement sophist, and one who slaughtered those less versed in this art. For just as those Empusae are accustomed to do, in the prestidigitations of his own disputations, he took pains and gave himself to composing and presenting himself; he played the fool, knowing nothing himself, nor allowing others to know; he cast terror and perturbation upon everyone: and he defended the primacy of his own sophistries and crafty diction so that he might delight most pleasantly in this reproach, and for that very reason he looked around himself in a wonderful manner, because he was ignorant of what was base or honorable, what was good or what was evil: but rather, where what was first in his mind ^D was toward Pyrrho. Or rather toward Pyrrho, but instead of [the reading of] Pyrrho and Diodorus, since he might rather emulate both, than be carried to one or the other, or both. But in our own verses, to what end he would bear the lead of Menedemus in his breast, as he would run, I do not see.

^A cut by his own hand, both of them 19 indiscriminately, and without thought for what was necessary. Yet it was enough for those who heard him, seeing that he was presentable to those who listened to him at the same time; he was therefore most pleasant to hear and to see, since they had been accustomed to receive the words from him, coming from a fair face and mouth, and not without a certain friendliness in his eyes. But one must not hear these things simply, but rather understand how they stood from the beginning. For having met with Theophrastus in his youth—a man gentle and not unskilled in amatory matters because of his own beauty, while he himself was still in his prime—and having chanced upon the Academic Crantor as a lover, he joined himself to him. But because he was by nature not untalented, using his own quickness—which was ready and heated by rivalry—he gained from Diodorus those clever and persuasive 21 arguments; yet having associated with Pyrrho (and Pyrrho had his start from Democritus, ^B or wherever else), he was trained by him, and, apart from the name, remained a Pyrrhonist, in the sense of the subversion of all things. Mnaseas, indeed, and Philomelus, and Timon, the Sceptics, call him a Sceptic just like themselves, as he also was one who destroyed the truth, and the lie, and the persuasive alike. Being called a Pyrrhonist, then, because of the Pyrrhonian 22 arguments, he endured, out of respect for his lover, being called an Academic still. He was, therefore, a Pyrrhonist, except for the name; and he was not an Academic, except in name. For I do not believe the Cnidian Diocles, who maintains in his so-called *Diatribes* that Arcesilaus, for fear of the followers of Theodorus and Bion the Sophist—who used to attack those who were philosophizing and would shrink from no opportunity ^C to refute them from every side—had been cautious, so he would not have trouble, to state no opinion that seemed to be held; for just as the cuttlefish does with its ink, he used the *epochē* (suspension of judgment) to shield himself. I do not believe this. But those who took their starting point from there, both Arcesilaus and Zeno, supported by such helpers—both warring with arguments—forget the beginning from whence they started from Polemon, and having stood apart, and having armed themselves:

"And they clashed, 23 shields and spears and the bronze-clad ^D might of men; And the bossed shields were pressed against one another, And a great roar arose; Shield pushed against shield, helmet against helmet, and man against man. Thereupon were the groans and the boasts of men, Slaying and being slain."

Of the Stoics; for the Academics were not attacked by them, because they were ignorant of the side on which they could be more easily captured. But they would be defeated then, when their foundation was shaken, if

they should have neither a principle nor a pretext for fighting. ^A The principle, indeed, was the not refuting them while they spoke Platonic doctrines; but that they should not even possess any pretext—which I just mentioned—they turned it around by removing it from the definition regarding the apprehensive impression. This is not the time for me to explain this; I shall mention it again when I am about to engage especially with this matter. ^B Having stood apart, therefore, into the open, it was not that the two were throwing missiles at each other, but Arcesilaus was throwing at Zeno. For Zeno had indeed something solemn and weighty in his battle, and not better than the orator Cephisodorus. This Cephisodorus, when he saw his teacher Isocrates being attacked by Aristotle, although he was unskilled and inexperienced in Aristotelian doctrine, yet—because he saw the glorious elements of Plato’s work and thought that Aristotle was philosophizing according to Plato—he waged war on Aristotle, but threw his missiles at Plato. ^C He began his accusation from the ideas, ending with other matters, which he himself did not even know, but suspected what was said as being implied about them. Yet this Cephisodorus, with whom he warred while not fighting, was fighting with whom he did not wish to wage war. Zeno, however, for his part, since he was refraining from Arcesilaus—if he were not even warring against Plato—would have been, in my judgment, a philosopher of the greatest worth for the sake of the aforementioned peace. But if, not being perhaps ignorant of the things of Arcesilaus, yet being ignorant of the things of Plato—as he is refuted from the things he wrote to him—he acted in opposite ways, striking neither him whom he knew, while he most shamefully and basely reviled him whom he ought not to have, and this much worse than a dog would do. ^D Yet he showed himself to have refrained from Arcesilaus out of magnanimity. For either by ignorance of those things, or by fear of the Stoics...

he turned the huge mouth of the war of pine-wood ^A to another direction, towards Plato. But concerning those things which Zeno wrongly and without any sense of shame devised against Plato, I shall speak more fully at another time, should I ever have leisure for philosophy. Yet may I never have such leisure, at least for these reasons, unless it be in jest. Zeno, then, seeing that Arcesilaus was his rival and worthy of victory, kept tearing down the arguments brought forward by him, and felt no regret. As for the other matters regarding which he contended with him—either I am unable to tell, or, even if I could, there is no need now to make mention of them. But as for that doctrine ^B of his, which he was the first to discover, and seeing the very name of it, the "comprehensive phantasia," highly esteemed in Athens, he applied every device against it. But the other, being in a weaker position, and keeping quiet, unable to be wronged, left Arcesilaus alone, though he had many things he could have said, but he did not wish to; or perhaps, rather, in another way: he fought against Plato, who was no longer among the living, like one fighting with a shadow, and he kept shouting out all the scurrility that comes from a cart, saying that since Plato was not there to defend himself, it was no one else's concern to speak for him; or whether it did concern Arcesilaus, he himself thought he would gain by turning Arcesilaus away from himself. This is noted by him as the same trick that Agathocles the Syracusan used against the Carthaginians. The Stoics, however, listened in astonishment; for their muse was still in its infancy, and not yet adept in those witticisms by which Arcesilaus, partly by refuting, partly by cutting short, and partly by tripping up ^C Zeno's arguments, overwhelmed them with his tongue, and even persuaded others. Accordingly, those against whom he argued were defeated and prostrate, and those present in the circle where he spoke remained struck and astonished; so that it was held for certain by the people of that time that there was neither word, nor misfortune, nor deed, however slight, nor anything at all that could be seen as useless or its opposite, unless it seemed so to Arcesilaus the Pitanaean. But to him, in fact, nothing seemed so, nor did he declare anything more than that these were mere trifles and terrors. ^D

CHAPTER VII

"Now, in truth," he says, "I have decided to relate something witty and charming about Lacydes. For he was somewhat sordid,"

and as the saying goes, notoriously 'economical' ^A in the eyes of many. He would open his own storeroom, and he would lock it himself. He would choose for himself what he needed, and he did all such things by his own hand—not, I suppose, because he was praising self-sufficiency, nor because he lived in poverty, nor because of a lack of servants, for he had as many as he wished, though the reason for this may be conjectured. But I shall relate the witty tale I promised. For, managing his own provisions, he did not think he ought to carry the key about his person. Instead, after locking the door, he would put it into a hollow box. After sealing it with a ring, he would let it roll through the hole of the lock and fall ^B inside the house, so that later, when he returned and opened it with the key, he might take up the ring, and then again lock up, and then seal it, and then throw the ring back inside again through the lock. When his servants perceived this clever trick of his, whenever Lacydes would go out for a walk or anywhere else, they would open it themselves, and then, according to their whim, after they had eaten some things and drunk others, and carried off still others, they would do these things in turn. They would close the storeroom, seal it, and then, not without the greatest laughter at the philosopher, throw the ring inside through the hole of the lock. Consequently, Lacydes, finding empty the vessels he had left full, and being perplexed by what was happening—since he heard it taught among ^C the school of Arcesilaus that things are 'incomprehensible'—thought that this was exactly what was happening to him regarding his storeroom. And, starting from this point, he began to philosophize with Arcesilaus, asserting that he could neither see nor hear anything clear or sound. And once, having drawn aside one of those who were conversing with him into private, he vehemently insisted to him—as it seemed—regarding the 'suspension of judgment,' and said, 'This much I can tell you without any doubt, having learned it from my own experience, and not having been tested by that of another.' And then, beginning from the start, he related the whole affair concerning his storeroom that had befallen him. 'What, then,' he said, 'would Zeno still have to say against such an evident suspension of judgment in such matters, agreed upon for me by all? For, since I locked it with my own hands, and it was I myself who sealed it, and I myself who let the ring inside, and yet, upon returning and opening it, I see the ring inside, but not the other things, how can I not justly be distrustful of external things? For I would not venture to say that someone has ^D come inside to steal these things, given the ring.' And he, hearing this—for he was an insulter, having taken the whole tale as he heard it, and only with difficulty holding back—broke into laughter… of the accuser, who asked for the ring; he quietly set it down, but Lacydes, sensing it, stepped upon it with his foot and covered it. And the proof was in that. After the acquittal, as Cephisocrates was greeting the judges, one of them, as it seems, having observed what had occurred, ordered them to thank Lacydes; and he related the matter, even though Lacydes had told no one.

But he, ^A hearing this, and being further ^B provoked to burst into laughter, simultaneously exposed his own vainglory. Consequently, Lacydes, starting from that time, no longer dropped his ring inside, nor did he use the storeroom for ^C unobservance, but he would seize those things that were left behind, and he had philosophized in vain. Not, however, that the servants were not ^D *phortakes* (57), as they were not easily apprehended; rather, such were these comic—and Getae, and Daci (58)—who were polished in the Dacian *stōmylēthra* (59), whether having heard the sophisms of some Stoic, or having learned them otherwise, they would proceed straight to the daring act, and would loosen his seal; and sometimes they would substitute another in its place, and sometimes they would apply none at all, due to supposing that even to him these things would be unobservable, and thus, and not 40 otherwise.

And he, having entered, would inspect—and seeing the document (41) unsealed, or sealed, but with a different seal, he would be indignant. And when they said that it had not been unsealed—and because for them the seal was seen by them to be his—he would refine his argument (42), and would demonstrate it. And when they were worsted by the demonstration, and would say that if the seal was not present, perhaps he himself had forgotten and had not sealed it; and yet he himself said that he remembered having sealed it, and would demonstrate it, and would go around with his speech, and would lament towards them, thinking that he was being mocked, and he would swear besides. But they, having anticipated his additions, these indeed thought that they were being mocked by him; since, being a wise man, it had been decreed for Lacydes to be without reputation, so that even of those things which were not remembered, there was memory, for this was glory; recently, at any rate, of the time, they said they heard these things.

[35] *Catelembane ta apheimena*. This means, I think, he perceived it, and surely understood how many things he had squandered, having held them in neglect.

[36] *Kai matēn*. What is meant by "and in vain"?

[37] *Phortakes*. These appear to be named from a new example, which is easily understood from the following. It is Attic laughter, but immoderate and troublesome. Aristophanes in *Plutus*: "And we might escape the *phortos*." Having removed these evils, and the *phortos*, and vulgar buffoonery, "He made a great art for us." The *phortika* are ridiculous things, insults of arrogance. "But we have a little speech, having a thought, of you yourselves, not more clever, but more wise than vulgar comedy." Vulgar comedy, in which they introduce some vulgar things.

[38] Getae and Daci. You find *Daci* more often than *Daxoi*. Stephanus in *De urbibus*, under the entry *Daxia*, has it so: *Daci*, whom we call *Daoi*. For the Getae are those called so near the Pontus, and the east; but the *Daoi*, those towards the opposite, towards Germany, and the sources of the Ister. And among the Attics, of the names of slaves, *Daoi* and *Getae*. But *Daci*... whom I think were called *Daoi* in the old way; from which also among the Attics the names of slaves became common, *Getae* and *Dauoi*. Whom they call *Daas*.

[39] *Stōmylia*. *Stōmylia* is vulgar buffoonery; *stōmylēthras* refers to the guests; *stōmylēthroi*, *stōmylēthros*, *stōmylethros*. *Bombostōmylēthra*: Eubulides says, of the eristic asking the "horned" arguments, and by false-braggart speeches, tumbling the orators, "He went away having the *hrombostōmylēthra* of Demosthenes." About this, one of the comic poets says: "And the abusive Eubulides, asking the 'horned' [arguments], And by false-braggart speeches tumbling the orators, He went away having the *rhōbostōmylēthra* of Demosthenes." *Oūristikos* (says one of the comic poets) Eubulides, *oūbristikos*, *oūristikos*, *hybristikos*, *eristikos*; of the eristics, asking the 'horned' [arguments]; questions; and "With false-braggart," [meaning] with false, braggart [speeches]. *Rhombostōmylēthra*, *rhōbostōmylēthra*, *rhōō*, *boao*.

^A And if, as he was confirming it, he could not remember the place. Nay, he would say that he remembered very well that he had sealed it, and while demonstrating it with a long oration, and feeling that he was being mocked, he would even interpose an oath and exaggerate it more vehemently. His household servants would react to these outbursts in such a way that they would persuade themselves that he was also joking and playing with them, from which it seemed to the wise Lacydes that he was leaving himself neither an opinion nor any memory—for indeed, memory is a kind of opinion—and that this, in the hearing of others, had recently been confirmed to him by some of his friends. When he refuted these claims in such a way as to replace everything with things other than what Academics are accustomed to say, the servants would approach some Stoic and learn from him what they ought to say. Starting from there, they would counter-sophistry with sophistry, and by opposing art with art, they proved that the Academics themselves were truly thieves. At that point, he would even go on the offensive against the Stoics, while the servants, conversely, would dissolve all his criticisms by denying the possibility of comprehension, and this, as expected, not without laughter and wit. ^B There, therefore, were the squabbles of everyone, the arguments, and the wordy battles, with nothing left over meanwhile—not a vessel, not any of the things that were stored in vessels, nor anything else that pertained to his household furnishings. Therefore, Lacydes was in a ferment, finding absolutely no aid at all in the defense of his own tenets; soon, reckoning to himself that unless he caught the thief, all his affairs would subsequently go to ruin, he finally, at his wit's end, began to shout at his neighbors and call upon the gods. "O woe is me!" "O wretched act!" he would repeat, invoking all gods and goddesses and other emotional arguments of that kind, which nature, without art, supplies to a man in the midst of grievous complaints when he does not obtain trust. All these things, bewailed with loud clamor, certainly displayed a great show of probability. Finally, in this struggle and domestic warfare, he played the Stoic before his servants; but since they were strenuously and constantly defending Academic tenets, in order that he might suffer no further annoyance, he subsequently remained at home perpetually and would sit outside the doors of his own cell. But when he achieved nothing, reflecting with himself on where his own versatility was leading, he finally opened up his mind openly and without pretense: "My servants," he said, "we speak of these things in the school in one way, but we live in another." And thus far concerning Lacydes. ^C He had very many auditors, among whom the Cyrenaean Aristippus excelled. However, of all his disciples, Evander succeeded him in the leadership of the school, and others followed him in turn. Succeeding them all in this teaching office, Carneades established the Third Academy. He employed the same manner of discourse as Arcesilas; for he himself also practiced the habit of arguing on both sides of a question and would refute everything that was said by others. ^D He differed from him only in the argument concerning the suspension of judgment, saying that it was impossible for a man to suspend his judgment on all matters. He held that there is a difference between that which is unknown and that which is incomprehensible; and that while all things are incomprehensible, they are not all unknown. He also had a share in the Stoic arguments, and by standing contentiously against them, he increased all the more, aiming at what seemed probable to the many, but not at the truth itself. Hence, he also caused much annoyance to the Stoics. Now, Numenius writes the following about him:

CHAPTER VIII. On Carneades, who founded the third Academy. From the same.

^A Carneades, having taken up the duty and roles of teaching, rejected the man whose legacy he ought to have preserved—whether the things were yet sound and undisturbed, or whether they had already been disturbed by others—and having referred everything to Arcesilaus, whether for better or for worse, he renewed the battle after a long interval. And next he adds: "He therefore led, and brought forward, and contributed to the combat subtle contradictions and twists, diversifying them; and he was at once negative and affirmative, and argumentative from both sides. And if ever ^B some subject required astonishing arguments, he would become impetuous, like a roaring river flowing fiercely, filling everything here and there, and he would rush in, and he would sweep away his listeners with a great uproar. Therefore, by leading the others astray, he himself remained undeceived; a quality which Arcesilaus did not possess. For the latter, being caught in the sorcery of those who were joining him in his Corybantic frenzy, failed to realize that he himself was the first to be deceived—failing to perceive it—and yet he was convinced that the things he said were true through the total annihilation of all things. But it would be an evil laid upon ^C an evil, for Carneades [to be] to Arcesilaus; without relaxing even a little, by which they would not be rendered actionless, according to the positive and negative impressions called by him 'probable'—that a thing is a living being, or is not a living being." Having thus given way, just like wild animals that retreat, only to throw themselves more violently and with greater force upon the spears, he himself, having yielded, attacked more powerfully. Whenever he encountered resistance and the argument was well-founded, then he would willingly disregard even what he had previously conceded. ^D For he acknowledged that truth and falsehood exist in things, as if cooperating with the method of inquiry; having given a grip to a skilled wrestler, he would overcome him from that point. For by offering each side according to the inclination of the 'probable,' he said that neither could be firmly apprehended. He was, therefore, a more cunning thief and sorcerer. For by taking a falsehood similar to the truth, and a perception similar to an apprehensive impression, and by bringing them to the same level, he did not allow either the true to exist or the false, or rather, [he argued] that one was not more [true] than the other, or [that it was] more likely than what is probable. They were, therefore, dreams instead of dreams, because the false impressions were similar to the true ones, as a wax egg is to a real egg. And so, bad things resulted, and more of them. Furthermore, while speaking, Carneades would enchant and enslave [his audience]. He was a thief in secret, but in appearance a robber, taking captive by both guile and force those who were very thoroughly prepared. All of Carneades' thought, at any rate, was victorious, and none was in any way otherwise; since even those against whom he fought were, so to speak, more powerless. And so Antipater, his contemporary, was about to write something in his anxiety; but as for the arguments brought daily from Carneades, he was never [able] to carry them and bear them.

to light, not in the lecture halls, not in the walking-places, nor did he speak, nor utter a word, nor did anyone hear him, they say, not even a syllable. He would only hold forth in written replies and, taking to a corner, he left behind books written for those who came after him—books which, neither then nor even now, could possibly stand up to such an exceedingly great man as Carneades appeared to be, and as he was reputed to be by the people of that time. Nevertheless, although he himself caused confusion in public by his Stoic contentiousness, yet among his own companions he confessed the truth in secret, and declared that which any other person of those available might say. Then he says further: “Carneades had as his first pupil Mentor, but not as his successor. For while Carneades was still living, having found him with his mistress—not because of a plausible impression, nor as one who had not grasped the truth, but trusting most fully in his own eyes, and having perceived the reality—he dismissed him from the school.” The one who had withdrawn retorted with sophistry and became a rival in the craft, exposing the lack of comprehension in his [Carneades’] words. ^B And again he adds, saying: “Carneades, philosophizing as it were in reverse, adorned [his positions] with falsehoods, and beneath them caused the truth to vanish. He used falsehoods, therefore, as veils, while the truth lay hidden within, in a more shopkeeper-like fashion. He experienced, therefore, the same condition as legumes, of which the hollow ones float on the water and remain on the surface, while the good ones are below and out of sight.” These things are also said concerning Carneades. Cleitomachus was established as his successor in the school; after whom came Philo, of whom Numenius mentions these things.

CHAPTER IX. Concerning Philo, who succeeded Cleitomachus, who had succeeded Carneades. From the same.

“This Philo, he says, in the beginning, when he had recently received the direction of the school, was struck with a very great joy and, being very desirous of showing gratitude, kept honoring the decrees of Cleitomachus and illustrating them more and more, and attacking ^C the Stoics with radiant sword. But as time progressed, while the retention of these [doctrines] gradually vanished through daily use of the Academics, he no longer felt things according to his former custom, but the very evidence and confession of events and evils turned him entirely in the opposite direction. Thus, while he was now perceiving most things clearly and plainly, he was very desirous only of being convinced by those who would refute him, so that he might not appear to have turned his back and fled of his own accord. Moreover, Antiochus became a ^D student of Philo, having started another Academy. At any rate, having studied with Mnesarchus the Stoic, he held thoughts contrary to Philo, his teacher, and added ten thousand strange things to the Academy.” These and things similar to these, ten thousand of them, are found in Plato’s succession

^B It is time, therefore, having taken up the account from the beginning, to examine the false beliefs and contrary arguments of the natural philosophers; for those who wandered over most of the earth, and who held the discovery of truth in the highest regard, and who were familiar with the opinions of all the men of old, and who had investigated the theology of Phoenicians, Egyptians, and even Greeks themselves, much earlier, must be asked what fruit of their labors they found, that we might learn if anything god-worthy came down to them from their elders. For initially, from the ancient age, polytheistic superstition held sway among the nations, and temple-rites and sacred mysteries of the gods were customarily observed by all in cities and lands alike. There was, therefore, no need for human philosophy, if it had anticipated the matters of divine wisdom; nor was there any necessity for the wise men to innovate, if the ways of their ancestors were well-established; nor, indeed, for the noble philosophers to be factional and at variance, if the ancestral opinion concerning the gods had been judged to be consistent and true. And why was it necessary to war with one another, and fight, or to run up and down the long road, wandering about and plundering the wisdom of the barbarians, when they ought to have remained at home and learned from the gods, if indeed there were any gods, or from the theologians, the true and infallible accounts concerning those things sought after in philosophy, concerning which they labored ^C on ten thousand things and disagreed, falling far short of the discovery of the truth? Why also was it necessary to strive to seek out newer things concerning the gods, or to clash and box with one another, if the safe and sure discovery of the gods, and the true knowledge of piety, were contained in the sacred rites and mysteries, and in the rest of the theology of the most ancient men, which it was at hand to tend as a fixed and unanimously agreed-upon thing? But if these men should appear to have learned nothing true about God from those who came before them, and rather to have applied themselves to the investigation of nature through their own conceits, and to have used guesswork rather than apprehension—what remains but to agree that the ancient theology of the nations possessed nothing more than the history presented in the preceding books? That philosophy among the Greeks arose, therefore, from human conjectures, much word-wrangling, and error, and not from any accurate apprehension, you may learn from the letter of Porphyry to the Egyptian Nectanebo, and hear him admit this very thing in these words. ^D

CHAPTER X. That there are conjectures, and logomachies, and much error among the philosophers of the Greeks. From the letter of Porphyry to the Egyptian Nectanebo, and from his book "On the Soul" written to Boethus, and from the book which he published "On the Philosophy from Oracles."

^A "I shall begin," he says, "my duty of benevolence toward you from the gods and good demons, and from the treatises of philosophy related to these, concerning which very much has been said, even among the philosophers of the Greeks, but which, for the most part, draw the principles of their credence from nothing else but mere conjecture." And having interposed other matters, he proceeds thus: "For among us there is a great conflict of words, inasmuch as we base our judgment of the good only upon human estimation. But as for those who apply themselves to attaining that conjunction with the superior nature, if they neglect this part of the investigation, they spend their labor and pains in the study of wisdom in vain." ^B The same author, in the writings which he addressed to Boethus "On the Soul," confesses this very thing in express terms, while he says: "That the soul is immortal, the power of understanding and reasoning proves without any doubt. Yet, whatever arguments produced by the philosophers are brought forward to demonstrate this, the whole seems very easy to refute, on account of the skill in disputation and contentiousness which sharp-witted men have discovered in all things. For what argument in philosophy is not open to dispute by those who think otherwise, when even regarding those things that seemed self-evident, some of them have preferred to withhold all assent?" And in the book he entitled "On the Philosophy from Oracles," he expressly confesses that the Greeks have wandered, ^C bearing witness to his own God, as having declared this through oracles, and as having testified to the discovery of truth by the barbarians rather than by the Greeks, and having even made mention of the Hebrews among those testified to. For, after the quotation of the oracle, he immediately proceeds to these concluding remarks: "You have heard how much labor is exhausted, for one to offer a sacrificial atonement merely for the sake of the body, and not because he has found the salvation of the soul? For the way to the gods is bound with bronze, steep and rugged, of which the barbarians indeed have found many paths, ^D but the Greeks have wandered away from it; and those who were already in possession of it have corrupted it. But God has attributed the discovery of it to the Egyptians, the Phoenicians, and the Chaldeans (for these are the Assyrians), to the Lydians and the Hebrews." These things says this philosopher, or rather the God whom he worshipped. Who, then, can hereafter justly find fault with us, because we have left the wandering Greeks, to follow the Hebrews, by whom it is established that the truth was apprehended, by the very testimony of the gods? For what, pray, do we expect to learn from philosophers? Or what help or utility can we hope for from them thereafter, if the things said among them for the most part happen to be derived from conjectures and surmises as the principles of their faith? And what is the fruit of logomachy, if all the arguments of the philosophers have been proven easily refutable, because of the sophistry found in all things? These things were heard not recently from us, but from themselves. Wherefore it seems to me that we have rightly and after examined judgment, and not irrationally, as it were, despised such things. And that we have embraced the matters among the Hebrews, not because it is testified to by the demon, but because the divine virtue and power

^A therein clearly shine forth. And so that you may perceive for yourself the verbose contentions of these illustrious philosophers, and their disagreements concerning primary principles, gods, and the constitution of the universe, I shall set forth their very words for you a little later.

But first, since they are constantly bringing up and harping upon these mathematical studies, and professing that it is absolutely necessary for those who intend to attain a grasp of the truth to pursue astronomy, arithmetic, geometry, and music—studies which, indeed, we have already shown came to them from the barbarians (for they claim that without these, no one can become a learned man or a philosopher, nor even touch upon the truth of existing things, unless these have first been delineated in the soul by knowledge)—and since, by elevating themselves in the study of these matters, they are lifted up into the air and think that they are walking on high, as if they were carrying God Himself around in their numbers; and further, because they think that we, ^B since we do not covet the same things, differ in no way from cattle, and therefore declare that we can know neither God nor any holy thing: come, let us first refute this incorrect notion, setting before them the true reason in place of light.

For the truth will demonstrate that among the Greeks, as well as the myriads of barbarian nations, there are some who, despite being equipped with the aforementioned studies, have recognized neither God, nor a temperate life, nor anything at all that is best and advantageous; whereas others, despite being destitute of such varied disciplines, have nonetheless proven to be most pious and most wise. You may learn what the opinion of that Socrates, who is so highly celebrated by all of these men, was concerning these matters, if you trust Xenophon, who records it in his *Memorabilia* in this way: ^C

CHAPTER XI. On geometry, astronomy, and calculation, from Xenophon’s *Memorabilia*.

"He also taught," he says, "to what extent a well-educated man ought to be skilled in each subject. In the first place, he said one should apply oneself to geometry only so far as to be able, should the need arise, to properly accept, give, divide, or mark out land by measurement. And this is so easy to learn that one who pays close attention to the measuring can, at the same time, know how great the earth is and depart with that knowledge. And as for the study of *calculation* [arithmetic] in regard to encampments, the capture of positions, the gathering and extending of an army, and whatever other formations camps might ^D require, he clearly [original-script column: see facsimile] compared with the movements in the heavens. As to what he holds regarding astronomy, it is somewhat obscure, except that he wishes men not to be overly curious; and concerning the revolutions of the celestial spheres and the stars, he recognizes them as a shadow or likeness of the truth rather than the truth itself.

And as for the geometry of diagrams, he forbade learning it, for he said he could not see what use it was; indeed, he was not unskilled in these things. He said, rather, that they were sufficient to wear out a man’s life and to prevent him from learning many other beneficial subjects. He also advised becoming acquainted with astronomy, but only to the extent of being able to determine the time of night, the month, and the year, so that one might use such knowledge for travel, for navigation, and for night watches, and for everything else that is done by night, by month, or by year, employing the stars as signs to distinguish the times of these things. ^B And these things, he said, were easy to learn from night-hunters, ship captains, and many others who make it their business to know them. But to study astronomy to the point of knowing things not in the same revolution—the planets and erratic stars—and to waste one's energy investigating their distances from the earth, their periods, and their causes, this he strongly discouraged. For he said he could not see any benefit in these things either, although he was not unlearned in them. He said that these too were sufficient to wear out a man’s life and to prevent him from many other useful pursuits. In general, he discouraged becoming a busybody with regard to the ways in which God regulates celestial things, for he did not believe that such things could be discovered by men, nor did he think that one who sought what the gods did not wish to make clear would find favor with them. He said that anyone who worried about these things would risk becoming insane—just as Anaxagoras lost his mind, he who prided himself greatly on explaining the machines of the gods. For that man, while saying that fire and the sun are the same, did not realize that men can easily look at fire, but cannot look directly at the sun; ^C and that those who are tanned by the sun have darker complexions, but this does not happen with fire. He did not realize either that of the things which grow from the earth, nothing can grow well without the light of the sun, whereas everything is destroyed if it is heated by fire. And while claiming that the sun is a red-hot stone, he did not realize that a stone, when placed in fire, neither shines nor lasts for long; yet the sun remains for all time, being the brightest of all things. He also advised learning arithmetic, but in this, just as with the other subjects, he urged against vain labor. He himself always examined everything and went through it with his associates only up to the point of usefulness. ^D These things Xenophon writes in his *Memorabilia*. In a letter to Aeschines, the same author writes as follows regarding Plato and those who boasted of their physiology of the universe.

Chapter XII.

On those who boasted of explaining the nature of things. From his letter to Aeschines.

^A That the divine is beyond us, everyone sees. It is sufficient for us to worship such things with the greatest possible piety, but what their nature is, is neither easy to discover nor permitted to investigate. For it is not proper even for slaves to know the character or actions of their masters, except insofar as is necessary for their service. And, most importantly, the more one ought to admire those who occupy themselves with human affairs, the heavier the burden weighs upon those who hunt for glory out of many useless and vain things. For who, my Aeschines, has ever heard Socrates discoursing about heavenly things, or persuading others to learn the figures of geometry for the improvement of their character? For we know that he understood music only as far as it reached the ears. But he always discoursed among his own people about what is noble, and about courage, justice, and the other virtues. He called these human goods; as for the rest, he said that they were ^B either impossible for men to grasp, or akin to myths, such as those which sophists with arched brows used to recount as mere play. And he did not merely say these things; he acted accordingly. But to write down for you—though you know them and it would not be unpleasant—the things he did, would take time, and I have already written them elsewhere. Let those, therefore, who have been refuted and who did not find favor with Socrates, either hold their peace or move toward what is reasonable—that Socrates to whom, while he was alive, God himself bore witness of his wisdom, while those who killed him found no way to cleanse themselves of their repentance for the crime. Truly, it is a fine thing that they became enamored of Egypt and of the monstrous wisdom of Pythagoras. How vain and inconsistent their disposition toward Socrates was, is manifestly ^C and openly proven by that love of tyranny, and by their supplanting a simple and frugal diet with a Sicilian table that serves an immoderate belly. Thus Xenophon, hinting obliquely at Plato. But Plato himself, in the *Republic*, recounts the following words said by Socrates regarding the arts of gymnastics and music.

CHAPTER XIII.

On the arts of gymnastics and music. From Plato's Republic.

"What then, Glaucon, could be a kind of study that is able to draw the soul from things that are coming into being toward that which is? I am thinking of this as I speak. Did we not say that these men must be athletes of war when they are young?" ^D "We did say so," I replied. "Is there then any such study as I am describing?" "Which is that?" "Is it, then, necessary to pay attention to this study as well?"

^A Mmm, that it not be useless to men engaged in war. It is necessary, he said, if it be possible. But were they not already trained by us in gymnastic and music? - That is so, he said. - Gymnastic certainly is concerned with what is coming into being and passing away, for it oversees the growth and decay of the body. - It appears so. - This then would not be the study we are seeking. - Certainly not. - But is it perhaps that music that we treated before? But that, he said, if you remember, was the counterpart of gymnastic, educating the guardians by habits ^B, imparting not knowledge, but by harmony a certain harmony, and by rhythm, rhythm, and having in the discourses other habits akin to these, and such as were fabulous, and as many as were truer. But there was no study in it that would lead to such a thing as you are now seeking. - Most accurately, I said, you remind me. For in truth it had nothing of that kind. - But, my dear Glaucon, what, then, could be of that kind? For the arts were all judged to be somewhat vulgar. - And why not? ^C He proceeds further and adds: "Perhaps they may not attempt to teach to those whom we shall rear anything incomplete, and not always going to the place to which all must tend, such as we were just saying about astronomy. Or are you not aware that they do the same thing regarding harmony? For they measure the audible consonances and sounds against one another, working themselves to death just as the astronomers do." "By the gods," he said, "and they even call them 'densities' ^D, and apply their ears as if they were eavesdropping on the sound from their neighbors; some say they hear a sound in the middle and that this is the smallest interval by which it must be measured, while others dispute, claiming that they are already emitting the same sound; both place their ears ahead of their intelligence." "You, indeed," I said, "are speaking of the good fellows who trouble the strings, and put them to the torture on the pegs and stretch them. That the parable may not become too long, by the striking of the plectrum, and about the accusations, and denials, and the arrogance of the strings, I cease the analogy, and I do not say that they are the ones of whom we spoke just now regarding harmony. For they do the same as those in astronomy. For they seek the numbers in these audible consonances, but they do not rise to reconsider the problems, which numbers are consonant and which are not, and why each are." But let these things also lie before us on the path, protesting that we have not ignored the useless learning of such things without a straight understanding. Let us consider, then, at last, having begun from above, the views of the aforementioned Natural Philosophers.

^A Plutarch gathers together in one place the contradictory opinions of them all—the Platonists and the Pythagoreans, the more ancient ones known as the Natural Philosophers, and in turn the more recent ones, the Peripatetics, the Stoics, and the Epicureans—in the work he entitled *On the Natural Dogmas that Pleased the Philosophers*. From these I shall set forth the following.

CHAPTER XIV. The Opinions of the Philosophers Concerning First Principles. From the book of Plutarch, *On the Natural Dogmas that Pleased the Philosophers*.

^B Thales the Milesian, one of the Seven Sages, declared water to be the principle of all things. This man seems to have been the beginner of philosophy, and from him the Ionian sect was named, for there were very many successions from him. Having studied philosophy in Egypt, he returned to Miletus now advanced in years. He says that all things are from water, and into water all things are resolved. He conjectures this first from the fact that the seed of all living things is the principle of everything, and it is moist; thus it is likely that all things have their origin from fluid. Second, that all plants are nourished by moisture and bear fruit, while lacking it they dry up. Third, that even the very fire of the sun and the stars, and indeed the world itself, is nourished by the exhalations of waters. For this reason, Homer also posits this birth as proper to water, with this verse:

Ocean, who is the source of birth for all things.

Such are the views of Thales. Anaximander the Milesian says that the principle of existing things is the infinite. For from it all things are born, and into it all things perish. Wherefore also infinite worlds are generated, and in turn pass away into that from which they spring. He says, therefore, that it is infinite so that birth ^C might never fail. But he too errs by not saying what the infinite is—whether it is air, or water, or earth, or some other bodies. He errs, therefore, while revealing the matter, but removing the efficient cause. For the infinite is nothing other than matter; yet matter cannot be in act unless the efficient [cause] is posited. Anaximenes the Milesian declared air to be the principle of existing things; for from it and ^D into it all things are born and again resolved.

^A Just as our soul, he says, is air—for it holds us together—so also does spirit and air encompass the whole world. Air and spirit are used as synonyms. But he also errs, thinking that living beings are constituted from simple and uniform air and spirit. For it is impossible that matter alone should act as the principle of existing things; one must also posit the efficient cause. For instance, silver is not sufficient in itself for a cup to be made, unless the efficient cause—that is, the silversmith—is added; the same must be assumed of bronze, wood, and other matter. ^B Heraclitus and Hippasus of Metapontum attribute this primacy to fire. For they claim that all things come to be from fire and that all things end in fire; and that when this is extinguished, all things are fashioned into a world. For first, the thickest part of it, being compressed and gathered together into itself, becomes earth; then the earth, being melted by the nature of the fire, becomes water; and as it evaporates, it becomes air. Again, the world and all bodies are consumed by fire ^C in the conflagration. Fire, therefore, is the principle, because all things come from it, and it is the end, because all things are resolved into it. ^D Democritus, whom Epicurus followed at a long interval, posited the principles of existing things to be indivisible bodies, observable by reason, void of emptiness, unbegotten, eternal, indestructible, impossible to be broken, nor able to receive shape from parts, nor to be altered, but being observable by reason. Yet these move in the void, and through the void; and the void itself is infinite, and the bodies are infinite. And these three things characterize the bodies: shape, size, and weight; but Democritus said there were two, size and shape, while Epicurus added to these a third, weight. For he says there is a necessity for bodies to be moved by the impact of weight, ^D since otherwise they would not move. And the shapes of these atoms are not infinite in number; for they are not like hooks, or tridents, or rings; for such shapes are easily broken, but the atoms are impassible and unbreakable; they have their own proper shapes, observable by reason. And it is called an atom, not because it is the smallest, but because it cannot be cut, being impassible and void of emptiness; so that if one speaks of ^D an atom, as unbreakable, he means impassible and void of emptiness. That it is an indivisible body is clear; for there are elements, and empty living beings, and the unit. Empedocles of Meton, the Acragantine, [posited] four elements,

fire, air, water, and earth, and two primary forces, love and strife, of which the former is unifying, and the latter dividing. He says as follows: Hear first the four roots of all things: Aetherial Zeus, and life-giving Hera, and Aidoneus, And Nestis, who moistens the fountains of mortals with tears. ^A

He says that by Zeus is meant heat and the aether, by life-giving Hera the air, by Aidoneus the earth, and by Nestis the fountain of mortals, meaning as it were the seed and the water. Such is the disagreement of the first natural philosophers; and such is their opinion regarding the principles, in that they posited as principles neither God, nor a maker, nor a creator, nor any cause of the universe at all, nor indeed gods, nor incorporeal forces, nor intellectual natures, nor rational substances, nor anything at all outside of the senses. Anaxagoras, therefore, is mentioned as the first of the Greeks, in his discourses on the principles, to have declared Mind to be the cause of all things. They say, indeed, that he admired natural philosophy more than those before him; he even neglected his own land, [leaving it to be] grazed by sheep, for the sake of it, and was the first of the Greeks to set out the theory of the principles. For he did not only declare his views concerning the substance of all things, as those before him did, but also concerning the cause that moves it. ^B For in the beginning, he says, all things were together and mixed; but Mind, entering in, brought them from disorder into order. It is a matter for wonder that he, having been the first among the Greeks to theologize in this manner, was suspected by the Athenians of being an atheist, because he did not theologize [about] the sun, but [about] the maker of the sun, and he nearly died by being stoned. It is said, however, that not even he kept this doctrine sound. For he set Mind in authority over all things, but did not then provide the natural philosophy concerning existing things according to mind and reason. Listen, then, to how Socrates, in Plato’s *Phaedo*, faults the man in these matters.

CHAPTER XV. On the opinion of Anaxagoras. From the disputation of Socrates in Plato, *Phaedo*.

"But, having heard," he says, "at some time from a certain book, as he said, of Anaxagoras reading, and saying that it is Mind that orders and is the cause of all things, I was pleased with this cause, and it seemed to me in a way to be good, that Mind should be the cause of all things." ^C

(76) *Grazed by sheep.* They say that the opposite happened to Anaxagoras than to you; for having been left much wealth, he neglected it and lost everything. Diogenes Laertius: He was distinguished for nobility and wealth, but also for greatness of soul, for he ceded his patrimony to his relations; when accused by them of neglect, "Why then," he said, "do you not take care of it?" And a witty remark: better than [would be expected of] a philosopher. "Do you not care for your country?" "Hush," he said, "for I do indeed care greatly for my country," and he pointed to the heaven. ^D It begins as follows: "In the beginning all things were together, and Mind separated and ordered them," calling "things" [by the word] "goods."

A worthy voice, in a better language and a better sense.

(77) *For in the beginning.* Plutarch above, p. 876, has this a little differently: "He begins thus," he says: "All things were together, and Mind divided and ordered them." Consult Diogenes.

(78) *But, having heard.* Plato’s passage is in the *Phaedo*, page 98, Ficino’s edition.

^A I thought, if this is the case, that the Mind which orders and arranges all things, would order each thing ^B and place it where it would be best. Therefore, if anyone wished to find the cause for each thing—how it comes to be, or perishes, or exists—it would be necessary for him to find this out regarding it: how it is best for it either to exist, or to suffer or to do anything else. From this reasoning, it would be appropriate for a person to investigate nothing else, both regarding himself and other things, except what is best and most excellent. It is necessary, then, for this same person to know also the worse, because there is the same science regarding both. Pondering these things, I was glad to think that I had found in Anaxagoras a teacher regarding the cause of things according to Mind to my own satisfaction; and he would tell me, first, whether the earth is flat or round. And when he had spoken, I expected him to explain the cause and the necessity, saying what is better, and that it was better for it to be such. And if he said it was in the middle, I expected him to explain further how it was better for it to be in the middle. And if he declared these things to me, I was prepared to no longer ask for another kind of cause. I was prepared, in the same way, to ask about the sun, and the moon, and the other stars, regarding their speed toward one another, and their turnings, and their other phenomena—how it is better for each of them to do and to suffer what they do suffer. ^C For I would not have believed that he, asserting that they were ordered by Mind, would bring in any other cause for them than that it is best for them to be as they are. So, attributing to each of them the cause, and to all in common what is best for each, I expected him to explain the good common to all. And I would not have traded these hopes for a great price; but with much eagerness, having taken the books, I read them as quickly as I could, so that I might know as quickly as possible the best and the worst. I was carried, then, by an astonishing hope, oh my friend. But as I went on ^D and read, I saw a man who made no use of Mind, and did not attribute any causes to the ordering of things, but blamed airs and ethers and waters and many other strange things. And it seemed to me that he had suffered something very similar, as if someone, saying that Socrates did everything he does with mind, then, attempting to state the causes of each thing that I do, were to say, first, that I sit here now because of this: that my body is composed of bones and sinews; and that the bones are solid and have intersections separate from one another, and the sinews, being such as can be tightened and relaxed, covering the bones with the flesh and skin, hold them together. Thus, with the bones suspended at their joints, the sinews relaxing and tightening make me able to bend my limbs; and for this cause I am sitting here bent. And again, regarding the... [alt-version omitted]

^A causes of my conversing with you, he attributes them to sounds, air, hearing, and six hundred other things of that kind, as if they were causes, while meanwhile omitting the true ones: namely, that when it seemed better to the Athenians to condemn me, for that very reason it seemed better to me to sit here, and more just to remain and undergo the punishment which they might order. For by the Dog, I think that long ago these very sinews and bones would have been either in Megara or in Boeotia, carried by the opinion of what is best, had I not thought it more just and honorable, instead of fleeing and running away, to undergo the punishment which the city assigns, whatever it may be. But to call such things causes is truly absurd. If, however, someone were to say that without having these things—bones, sinews, and whatever else I have—I would not be able to do what seemed right to me, he would be speaking the truth; but to say that it is because of these things that I do what I do—and that I do it with my mind, and not because of the choice of what is best—would be a great and long-winded account of laziness.” Then he adds: “And so ^B one man, placing a vortex around the earth, makes the earth remain by the power of the heavens; another makes the air a pedestal beneath it, like a wide kneading-trough. But the power that has fashioned these things as well as possible, so that they are now disposed as they are, they neither search for, nor do they think it has any divine strength; rather, they think they will discover an Atlas stronger than this, and more immortal, and one that holds all things together more, and in truth, they think that goodness and duty bind and hold nothing together.” So much says Socrates regarding the opinion of Anaxagoras. There was also a successor to Anaxagoras, both of his school and of his opinion, Archelaus. It is said that Socrates became a hearer of Archelaus. Nevertheless, other natural philosophers, such as Xenophanes and Pythagoras, who flourished with Anaxagoras, philosophized concerning the incorruptibility of God and the immortality of the soul. From these men, and after them, the various sects of Greek philosophy ^C arose, some following these men, others those, and some even devising their own peculiar opinions. Once again, therefore, Plutarch writes the opinions of these same men regarding the gods in the following manner.

CHAPTER XIII. Opinions of the philosophers concerning the gods. From Plutarch.

“Some of the philosophers,” he says, “as for instance Diagoras the Milesian, Theodorus the Cyrenaean, and Euhemerus ^D the Cyrenaean, and Callimachus the Cyrenaean, hint at them in his Iambics. And Euripides the...

tragedian, though he did not wish to reveal himself, fearing the Areopagus, yet indicated it in this way. For he introduced Sisyphus as the advocate of this opinion, and he agreed with his sentiment. ^B Following these, he again introduces Anaxagoras, claiming first that he thought rightly about God. He speaks as follows: “Anaxagoras, he says, teaches that in the beginning the bodies were stationary, but that the Mind of God arranged them and made the generations of all things. Plato, however, did not posit that the primary bodies were stationary, but that they were moving in a disorderly fashion; wherefore he says: ‘God, taking control, since order is better than disorder, arranged them.’” To which he adds: “Therefore, both ^C err in common, in that they made God concerned with human affairs, and posited that the world was constructed for their sake. For that blessed and immortal living being, filled with all good things and incapable of any evil, which centers its whole existence on the preservation and guardianship of its own happiness and immortality, is turned away from human affairs. It would be wretched, laboring like a worker or a carpenter, bearing burdens and struggling to construct the world.” And again: “They say that God, either in that whole prior age, when bodies were unmoved, did not yet exist; or when they were moving in a disorderly manner, was either asleep or awake, or neither of these. It is not possible to accept the first; for God is eternal. Nor the second; for if God were asleep from eternity, he would be dead; for eternal sleep ^D is death. But God is free from sleep; for the immortality of God is very far removed from that which is close to death. If, indeed, he were awake, he either lacked happiness or was filled with blessedness. And God is not blessed according to the first; for that which lacks happiness is not blessed; nor according to the second; for since he lacked nothing, he was not about to undertake empty actions. Furthermore, if God exists and human affairs are governed by his providence, how is it that a base and unworthy person prospers, while a noble one suffers the opposite? For Agamemnon, for instance, ‘Both a noble king and a mighty spearman,’ was overcome and murdered by an adulterer and an adulteress; and his kinsman Hercules, after cleansing human life of much that plagued it, was murdered by a poisoned robe from Deianira. Thales says that Mind is the God of the world; Anaximander...

designated the heavenly stars as gods; Democritus placed God in fire, as a spherical soul of the world. Pythagoras, among his first principles, called the Monad God and the Good, which is the nature of the One itself, that is, Mind; but he called the indefinite Dyad a daemon and evil, around which is the material multitude, and the visible world itself. ^B Now hear how those who were younger in time thought: "Socrates and Plato establish as one the self-begotten, self-originated, monadical, and truly existing Good; all these names hasten toward Mind." Therefore, Mind is God, a separate form, that is, unmixed with any matter and combined with nothing capable of suffering. Aristotle deemed the most supreme God to be a separate form, presiding over the sphere of the universe, which is the ethereal body called the fifth element by him. And since the universe is divided into spheres, which are contiguous by nature but separated by the power of reason, he believes that each of the spheres is a living being, composed of body and soul, of which the body is ethereal, moving in a circular motion, while the soul is an immovable reason, the cause of the motion in act. ^C The Stoics more commonly declare that God is an artificial fire, proceeding by a path toward the generation of the world, having encompassed all the seminal reasons according to which all things come to pass by fate. And they say that Spirit passes through the whole world, receiving different names because of the changes of the matter through which it has passed. And they consider the world, the stars, and the earth to be God, and the Mind that is highest of all to be in the ether. Epicurus reasoned that all the gods were human in form, but visible to reason alone because of the subtlety of the nature of the images. And the same man added four other natures, indestructible by genus: atoms, the void, the infinite, and the homoeomeries ^D and elements. Such are the divisions and the blasphemies concerning God of these natural philosophers, the first of whom our discourse establishes to be those around Pythagoras, Anaxagoras, Plato, and Socrates, who set Mind and God over the world. These are shown to be mere children in time, according to the times in which these things are recorded in the *Archaeology of the Hebrews*. Therefore, the knowledge of the God of all was not the most ancient among all the Greeks and those of old who introduced the polytheistic superstition among the Phoenicians and Egyptians, which Anaxagoras and those around him were the first of the Greeks to bring forth. And yet the polytheistic superstition prevailed among all nations; but it was, as it seems, not that which contained the true theology, but that which the Egyptians and Phoenicians were the first of all to be witnessed as having established. And this was a system which did not deify gods or any divine powers, but men long since dead, as the truth

...let us compare this with the antiquity of the Hebrews. Indeed, there was among all the Greeks, or among the Phoenicians and Egyptians, or whoever else introduced that ancient superstition concerning the multitude of deities, a very old understanding which Anaxagoras and his contemporaries among the Greeks were the first to bring forward. For that superstitious error concerning many gods had indeed invaded all nations: yet it was of such a kind that it did not contain true and proper theology, but only that which we have shown by so many testimonies above to have been forged first by the Egyptians and Phoenicians. Furthermore, it spoke of neither any gods at all, nor any divine powers, but only of men buried long ago, as the very oracles of truth had predicted so long before. Come then, let us repeat this entire discussion afresh. Since among those 756 natural philosophers, some recalled everything to the senses, while others, like Xenophanes of Colophon and Parmenides the Eleatic, defending other things, abolished the senses and said that nothing could be comprehended by their power, and that therefore faith must be placed in reason alone: let us now see the refutation of those men.

CHAPTER XVII. Against Xenophanes and Parmenides, who abolished the senses; from the eighth book of Aristocles' On Philosophy.

^B "There is," he says, "a far different voice and discourse of others. For they believe that the senses and everything seen are to be utterly rejected, and that faith must be placed in reason alone. And first indeed, Xenophanes, Parmenides, Zeno, and Melissus were occupied with that doctrine, which Stilpo and the Megarian philosophers later defended. They maintained that whatever exists is one alone, and that what was different from it did not exist; that nothing is generated, nothing is corrupted, and that nothing at all is moved. There will be another place for a more extended philosophical discussion against them; now, however, as far as this point is concerned, we argue thus. We ourselves also acknowledge that reason is the most divine part of us: but yet we also stand in need of sense, just as we do of body. And indeed that sense is also naturally equipped ^C for producing the truth is manifest from this argument. It is impossible for one who senses not to undergo some affection; and he who undergoes an affection must know that which he undergoes. Therefore, sense is a certain kind of knowledge. But if to sense is to undergo something, and whatever undergoes something is affected by something, it is absolutely consequential that that which effects is different from that which is affected. Thus we have first that which is called different, such as color and sound; and then that whatever exists is not some one thing. Add that it is not even immobile, since the very process of sensing is a certain motion. Wherefore there is no one who would not wish to have senses, as nature demands: I believe because all place greater trust in healthy ^D senses than in those suffering from any defect. And deservedly, therefore, a certain vehement love for them is deeply inherent in us; nor could anyone be found so insane as to wish to lose even one sense in order to enjoy all other goods. But those who malign them—those who have once been brought to this opinion, that they consider the senses useless—ought to apply to the senses themselves what Pandarus in Homer said concerning his bow:

'May an enemy immediately take off my head, Unless I cast this broken quiver into the midst of the flames With my hands, when it hangs as inert weight Across my shoulders:'

' as a consequence of this, to destroy all their own senses. For in this way alone would one believe those who teach by deeds, that they had no need of any of them. But now, this is most absurd. For while pronouncing them useless by their discourse, they persist in using them most of all in their deeds. For Melissus, wishing to demonstrate that none of the things that appear and are placed before our eyes have any real existence, brings forward arguments from those very things that appear. 'For if,' he says, 'there is earth, and water, and air, and fire, and iron, and gold; and what is living, and what is dead, and black, and white, and all other things that men say truly exist, or which we correctly see and hear; then the thing that is must necessarily be such as it first appeared to us to be, and not shift, nor become another thing, but rather be identical and constant in whatever it is.' But now we said that we correctly see, and hear, and understand; yet it appears to us that what is hot becomes cold, and what is cold becomes hot; and what is hard becomes soft, and what is soft becomes hard. When he and others say many such things, someone might very reasonably ask him, 'Did you learn by perceiving it that what is now hot afterwards becomes cold?' Similarly, too, regarding the other things. For what I said holds: nothing would be found, except by destroying and refuting the senses, because he relies upon them most of all. But such arguments have now already given a sufficient account of themselves; for they have become so effete, just as if they had not been spoken ^B at all. Now, however, let us confidently say that those who invite both the senses and reason to the knowledge of things are the ones who philosophize correctly. Such then, were the followers of Xenophanes, who is said to have flourished at the times of Pythagoras and Anaxagoras. For Parmenides was the auditor of Xenophanes; Melissus, of him; Zeno, of him; Leucippus, of him; Democritus, of him; and Protagoras and Nessas, of him; and Metrodorus gave attention to Nessas, Diogenes to Metrodorus, Anaxarchus to Diogenes, and Anaxarchus had Pyrrho as a disciple. Pyrrho instituted the sect of the Sceptics; and it is possible to learn from the aforementioned writing, which speaks word for word as follows, how those who held the contrary opinion refuted them, in that they determined that nothing at all could be apprehended, either by sense or by reason, and that they therefore withheld assent in all things.

CHAPTER XVIII.

^A Pyrrho of Elis was indeed a keen and ardent champion of this opinion, yet he left nothing in writing. But his disciple Timon says that he who aspires to happiness must look to these three things: first, what is the nature of things; second, in what manner we ought to be disposed toward them; and lastly, what will be the outcome for those who are so disposed. As to the nature of things, he asserts that they are all equally indifferent, immeasurable, and inestimable; and for this reason, neither our senses nor our opinions can be either true or false. Therefore, we ought not to trust them, but be without opinion, uninclined, and unwavering, saying of each individual thing that it is no more than it is not, or that it both is and is not, or that it neither is nor is not. Timon says that those who are thus disposed will attain first to speechlessness, and then to peace of mind, to which Ænesidemus adds pleasure. These are the main points of what is said. Let us see if they speak correctly. Since, therefore, they say that all things are equally indifferent, and for that reason counsel that one should not assent to anything nor hold any opinion, one might reasonably, I think, ask them: "Do they err who consider that there is a difference between things, or do they not?" For in any case, if they are in error, they cannot be thinking rightly. Thus it would be necessary for them to say that there are some who hold false opinions about existing things, and that they themselves are the ones who speak the truth; and thus it would follow that there is something true and something false. But if we, the multitude, do not err in thinking that things differ, what has come over them that they attack us? For they themselves would be the ones who err in asserting that they do not differ. Moreover, even if we were to grant them that all things are utterly without difference, it is clear that they would not be any different from the multitude. What, then, is this wisdom of theirs that they finally show us? Or why is it that Timon rails against all others, but praises Pyrrho alone? Furthermore, if there is no difference in things, they will not even be subject to the distinction of whether they differ or do not differ, or whether one should hold an opinion or not. For why should these things be rather than not be? Or, as Timon himself is accustomed to say, why so? Why not? Indeed, to what end even the "why" itself? For it is evident that every inquiry must be utterly abolished. Let them therefore cease to cause us further annoyance. For they are surely insane, while, forgetful of their own art, they simultaneously command us to hold no opinion and yet command us to do this very thing; and they say that one ought not to make pronouncements about anything, and then they make pronouncements. And they claim that one should agree with no one, yet they command us to obey them; then, saying they know nothing, they rebuke everyone as if they knew everything well. It is necessary for those who assert that all things are uncertain to do one of two things: either remain silent, or pronounce and say something. If they were to keep silence, it is clear that there would be no discussion with such people; but if they were to make pronouncements, they would entirely and in every way either say that something exists or that it does not exist, just as they currently say that all things are unknown and inestimable to all, and that nothing is anywhere known. He, therefore, who asserts that he either declares a thing and it is possible to understand what is being said, or it is not—but if he does not declare it, no discussion can be had with such a person in any case; but if he does signify it, he must necessarily speak of either infinite or finite things. And if

^A he speaks of infinite things, he will again destroy all facility for discussion with him, because the knowledge of an infinite thing is impossible. But if he signifies some finite things, or even just one thing, he who does this must necessarily define that one thing and pass judgment upon it. How then could all things be unknown and exempt from judgment? If he says that these things both are and are not, first of all, the same thing will be both true and false; then, he will both say something and not say it, and while using discourse, he will destroy discourse. Furthermore, while confessing that he is speaking untruths, he says that one ought to believe him. It is worth investigating from where, having learned what, they say that all things are obscure. For they must first know what it is that is manifest; only then would they be able to say that things are not as such. For one must first know the affirmation, and then the negation. But if they are ignorant of what the manifest is, they would not be able to know what the obscure is. Whenever, moreover, Aenesidemus in his Outlines goes through the nine modes (for by so many he attempts to demonstrate that things are obscure), shall we say that he speaks of them knowing them, or in ignorance? For he says that animals differ, and we ourselves, and states, and lives, and customs, and laws. And he says that our senses are weak, and that many things from without corrupt knowledge: intervals, and magnitudes, and motions; and besides, that there is no similarity of disposition between the young and the old, and those awake and those sleeping, and the healthy and the sick; and that we grasp nothing simple and pure. For all things are confounded, and said in relation to something. To him who speaks these and such things ^B with affectation, one would gladly ask: Does he speak knowing well that things are in this state, or in ignorance? For if he did not know, how could we believe him? But if he did know, he would be a total fool, at once declaring all things to be obscure, and at the same time saying that he knows so many things. And yet, whenever they go through such things, they do nothing else but speak of a kind of induction, showing what the phenomena and the particulars are like. And such a thing both is and is called belief. If, therefore, they assent to it, it is clear that they are forming opinions. If they do not believe, then we should not pay attention to them. Timon, however, in his *Python* tells a long story of how he met Pyrrho walking at Delphi, by the temple of Amphiaraus, and what they conversed about with each other. Would it not be reasonable for one to stand by him as he is writing these things and say, "Why, you rascal, do you vex yourself writing these things, and recounting things you do not know? For why did you any the more meet and converse with him, or not converse?" And that very same wonderful Pyrrho, did he know why he was walking to see the Pythian games, or was he wandering along the road like a madman? And when he began to rail against men and their ignorance, shall we say that he was telling the truth, or not? Are we to say that Timon also suffered something, and gave credence to his words, or did not pay attention? For if he was not persuaded, how did he become a philosopher instead of a dancer, and follow ^C Pyrrho...?

^A Indeed, absurd it would be for anyone to be a philosopher himself, while preventing us from being so. But, simply put, one might wonder what the purpose of Timon’s *Silli* [(2')] is, and all the blasphemies against all mankind, and the base elements of Aenesidemus, and all such a mass of words. For if they wrote these things thinking to make us better, and for this reason think it necessary to refute everyone so that we might cease our babbling, they evidently want us to know the truth and to suppose that things are as Pyrrho claims. So, if we were persuaded by them, from worse we would become better, having judged the more advantageous things and having accepted those who speak better. How then could things be equally indifferent and undecided? And how could we become unassenting and dogmatically neutral? But if there is no benefit in these words, why do they trouble us? Or why does Timon say: "He finished by admiring"?

^B But if he did agree with what was said, Simon Apollonides says that Timon was the son of Timarchus and of Phliasian origin. Abandoned as a youth to dance, he later condemned this, and traveled to Megara to Stilpo. Then he traveled to Elis to Pyrrho with his wife.

"No other mortal could vie with Pyrrho; For one would no more admire Pyrrho than that Corybus, or Melitides, who are thought to excel in folly."

Indeed, one must also reflect on these things. For what sort of citizen, or judge, or councillor, or friend, or, to put it simply, what sort of human being would such a person be? Or what evil would he not dare to do, he who truly believes nothing to be shameful, or just, or unjust? For no one would say that such people fear the laws, the judges, and punishments. For how could they, being themselves impassive and untroubled, as they say? For Timon says these things about Pyrrho:

^C "I saw the one who was distinct, neither arrogant nor conquered By all things by which it is conquered, both by the unspeakable and the spoken, The light-headed tribes of people, weighed down now here, now there, By passions, and reputation, and thoughtless legislation."

There are three books of the *Silli*, in which, as a Skeptic, he rails against everyone and mocks the Dogmatists in the form of a parody. The first of these has its explanation as self-narrated, while the second and third are in the form of a dialogue. ^D "Tell me now, all you who are busybodies..." [The text continues regarding] the work he wrote and dedicated to Tiberius Caesar, on which Diogenes himself had published commentaries. Then, regarding the works of Timon, he says, he delivers this as the beginning of the work: "Tell me now, all you who are busybodies, you sophists."

^A Moreover, when they pronounce that excellent and wise dictum, that in ordering one's life one ought to follow the guidance of nature and custom, while at the same time teaching that one should not assent to anything whatsoever, they act most ineptly. For if faith is to be withdrawn from all other things, it must at least necessarily be held toward this, and it must be squarely established that the matter is so. But why should we follow the guidance of nature and custom rather than depart from it, when we either know nothing at all, or have no power by which any judgment can be formed? For what they add is of an extreme sort of stupidity: just as purgative medicines, in which there is the power of purging, are excreted together with the substances they purge, so they say that the very reason which declares all things to be uncertain also destroys itself along with the rest. For if it refutes itself, he who uses it acts senselessly. Let these men, therefore, remain silent and not even utter a sound. Yet their reasoning does not actually have anything in common with a purgative medicine. For a medicine is excreted, so that it does not remain in the body; but this reasoning must always exist firmly in the mind, and gain our perpetual faith, as it is the only thing that causes us not to assent to anyone. Furthermore, that they do not even steal away the power of opinion from man, you may understand from this: he who perceives cannot, in any way, stop perceiving; but to perceive is to know. And that they do have faith in perception, no one fails to see. For, wishing to see more accurately, they are accustomed to rub their eyes, and to approach more closely, and to blink as they look. ^B And what of the fact that we perceive both joy and pain? For it is impossible for anyone to be unaware that he is being burned or cut. Who would not say that memories and recollections are also linked with opinion? ^C Regarding common notions—that such a thing is a man—and furthermore regarding the sciences and arts, what could one say? Nothing of these would exist if we were not naturally disposed to form opinions. But I leave other matters aside. If we either believe or disbelieve what is said by these men, we necessarily find ourselves having to hold opinions in every way and altogether. That it is impossible, therefore, to philosophize in this manner is clear; and that it is contrary to nature and contrary to the laws, we may discern thus. For if things were truly such as they say, what would be left for us but to live as if in a dream, at random and impulsively? Thus, legislators, and generals, and teachers would all be prattling in vain. But to me, all other men seem to live according to nature, while only those who prattle such things seem to be demented—or rather, to be suffering from a very robust madness. One might discern this no less from the following. ^D For Antigonus of Carystus, who lived during those same times and who wrote an account of their lives, says that Pyrrho, when pursued by a dog, took refuge in a tree; and when he was mocked by those who were present, he replied that it was difficult to strip off the human. Furthermore, when his sister Philista was offering a sacrifice, and one of his friends had promised the items for the sacrifice but did not provide them, Pyrrho, having purchased them himself and being indignant—since the friend was saying that he had not acted in accordance with his teachings, and that it was not worthy of his imperturbability—replied: "In the case of a woman, at any rate, one ought not to demonstrate it." And yet the friend would have rightly said that it is vain in the case of a woman, and a dog, and all things.

And if it seems to you that there is some profit to be gained from this discourse, it will not be out of place to learn both who the followers of this man were, and whom he himself emulated. Pyrrho, therefore, was a disciple of one Anaxarchus, who at first was a painter, though with little success; but afterward, having fallen upon the books of Democritus, he found nothing good in them, nor did he write anything himself, but only heaped insults and reproaches upon all gods and men. Later, while suffering from this kind of arrogance, and yet calling himself free from arrogance, he left nothing behind in writing. He had as a disciple Timon the Phliasian, who had previously been a dancer on the stage, but when he had heard the man, he published mordant and stinging verses, with which he attacked the whole race of earlier philosophers. For he was the author of the ^A *Silloi*, of which number are those that follow:

Wretched men, mere shames, bellies, Fashioned from such strifes and groanings. And: Men, bags full of empty conceits.

^B When no one paid any attention to them, as if they had never come into existence at all, just the other day in Alexandria in Egypt a certain Aenesidemus began to rekindle this struggle. And these are, by common opinion, almost the principal ones who have trodden this path of philosophizing. And it is certain that no one in his right mind would say that such a sect, or school, or by whatever other name one might wish to call it, is straight. For my part, I do not think it should even be called philosophy, since it utterly subverts the very principles of philosophizing. ^C Let these things, then, be said against those who are thought to philosophize according to Pyrrho. Congenial and akin to these, perhaps, could be the things by which those are refuted who, following the opinion of Aristippus the Cyrenaean, taught that nothing can be grasped except what is experienced through suffering. Now, Aristippus was a companion of Socrates, and he established what is called the Cyrenaic sect, from which Epicurus took the occasion for his own exposition of the end. Aristippus was a man very soft and fond of pleasure; although he himself never spoke openly about the end, yet by the power of his discourse he taught that the foundation of ^D happiness is placed in pleasures. For, by always speaking about pleasure, he led those who came to him to the suspicion that he meant the end to be living pleasurably. He had as disciples a certain Synallus and his daughter, Arete. She, having given birth to a son, named him Aristippus, who, having been led by her into the study of philosophy, was commonly called "mother-taught." This man clearly defined the end to be living pleasurably, setting down pleasure in accordance with motion. For he said there are three states concerning our constitution: one,

in which we suffer, resembling a storm at sea; another, in which we rejoice, similar to an even wave (for he considered pleasure to be an even motion, most similar to a favorable wind); and a third, a middle state, in which we neither suffer nor rejoice, being close to calm and tranquility. He claimed that we have perception of these states alone. Following these, he may be refuted.

CHAPTER XIX. Against the followers of Aristippus, who say that only internal states [the *pathe*] can be comprehended, while all other things are incomprehensible. From the same author.

^B Next, let us consider those who say that only the states which we suffer can be comprehended. Certain Cyrenaics were of this school. They were so disposed, as if pressed down by a deep sleep, that they said there was nothing at all, unless someone stood by and beat and pricked them. For they said that, when being burned or cut, they realized they were suffering something; but whether it was fire that burned or iron that cut, they could not say. One might immediately ask those who say these things if they know even this—namely, that they are suffering and perceiving something. For if they do not know it, they could not even say that they know only the suffering; but if they do know it, then it would not be the case that only the "sufferings" are comprehensible. For the statement, "I am being burned," is a proposition, not a suffering. Moreover, there must necessarily be these three things coexisting: the suffering itself, the agent, and the patient. Therefore, the one perceiving the suffering ^C must surely perceive it. It is not possible that, if he happens to be getting warm, he will know it, but will not know whether it is he himself or his neighbor; or whether it is now or last year; or whether he is in Athens or in Egypt; or whether he is alive or dead; or, furthermore, whether he is a man or a stone. Therefore, he will also know by what he is suffering. For they do, in fact, recognize one another, as well as roads, cities, and food. Craftspeople, for their part, know their own tools. Physicians and sailors foresee future events. And even among animals, dogs find their tracks. Furthermore, the one suffering is necessarily aware of whether the suffering is something proper to them or something foreign. How, then, will he be able to say that this is pleasure and that is pain? Or that he is suffering something while tasting, seeing, or hearing—suffering something by tasting with the tongue, seeing with the eyes, or hearing with the ears? ^D Or how do they know that this thing ought to be chosen and that thing avoided? If they knew none of these things, they would have no impulse or desire, and thus they would not even be living creatures. They are ridiculous when they say that these things happen to them, yet they do not know how or in what manner they happen. For these people could not even say if they were human beings or if they were alive; consequently, they could not even say if they were speaking and making assertions. What argument could there be against such people? One might marvel if they are ignorant of whether they are on earth or in heaven; but it is far more marvelous if they do not know, even while claiming to philosophize, whether the number four is greater than the number three, and what one and two amount to. For these very people cannot even say how many fingers they have on their hands, nor whether each of them is one person or more. So they do not even...

know their own name, nor their country, nor Aristippus; nor can they tell if they love, hate, desire, laugh, or weep; and consequently, they cannot pronounce whether this is pleasant or that is painful. It is evident, therefore, that they do not even understand what we are saying at this moment. Such people, then, would differ in no way from gnats or flies; yet even those creatures know what is consistent with their own nature. ^A Well, as for those who are in such a state, though there is a myriad of things that could be said, these are enough. It follows, therefore, that we should examine those who take the opposite path and defend the view that one must in all things trust the senses of the body—among whom are Metrodorus of Chios and Protagoras of Abdera. It is said that Metrodorus was a pupil of Democritus and that he posited as his principles the plenum and the void, the former being "being," and the latter "non-being." When he was about to write on nature, he used this opening: "None of us knows anything, not even this very thing, whether we know or do not know." This opening gave a wicked occasion to Pyrrho, who came after him. Advancing further, he asserted that all things are that which each man conceives them to be. As for Protagoras, tradition holds him to have been called an atheist. Writing on the gods, he himself used this opening: "As for the gods, I have no knowledge, neither that they exist, nor that they do not, nor what their form might be. For there are many things that prevent me from knowing each of these." The Athenians condemned him to exile and publicly burned his books in the middle of the marketplace. Since, therefore, these men said we should believe in the senses alone, let us consider the refutations against them.

CHAPTER XX

"There have been some, moreover, who said that one must place faith only in the senses and appearances. ^C Nor are there wanting those who would have it that something similar was hinted at by Homer when he called Ocean the beginning of all things, on the grounds that things exist in a perpetual flux. Metrodorus of Chios asserts the same thing, and Protagoras of Abdera does so clearly and explicitly. For he maintains that man is the measure of all things: of things that are, that they are, and of things that are not, that they are not. For whatever things appear to each person, those things also are. And regarding other matters, we can assert nothing with certainty." How rightly one might object to these men, even as Plato ^D does in the *Theaetetus*: "First of all, why does it happen that one person feels this so, and another feels it otherwise? And to a great degree? Should we say then that the wind itself is cold or not cold, or shall we be persuaded by Protagoras that it is cold to the one who is shivering, and to the one who is not, it is not?" He mocks him with many interjections, so that it seems he is thinking about the man himself: "What shall I do? For I am someone who laughs with a petulant spleen."

^A Since those things exist, they deemed man to be the measure of truth; yet did they not grasp the main point? ^B Furthermore, how could they say that they themselves were wise, if everyone is their own measure of truth? Or how do they refute others, if to each person that which seems true to him is indeed true? Do we not remain ignorant of certain things, even though we frequently perceive them, just as when we listen to barbarians? He who has seen anything, and then remembers it, certainly knows it, but he no longer senses it. And if one were to close one eye while looking with the other, it is clear that he will both know and not know the same thing. ^C Besides this, if what appears to each is also true, yet what is said by those people does not appear true to us, then it would be true that man is not the measure of all things. Furthermore, skilled people differ from the unskilled, and the experienced from the inexperienced; and for this reason, the pilot, the physician, and the general foresee the future more clearly and accurately. ^D Simply put, these people abolish [the concepts of] the "more" and the "less," the "necessary" and the "contingent," the "natural" and the "contrary to nature"; and thus the same thing would be both existent and non-existent. For nothing prevents the same thing from seeming to exist for some, and not to exist for others. And the same thing could be both a man and a log. For there are times when it appears to be a man to one person, and a log to another. ^A Every statement would be true, and for that same reason, also false. And those deliberating or judging would have nothing to do. And most terribly, the same people would be noble and base; the same thing would be both vice and virtue. One could have many such things to say. But there is no need for further words against those who do not believe they have [any need for them].

The beginning of the argument

^B

And since, he says, there are even now some who maintain that every sensation and every appearance is true, let us say a few things about them too. For these men seem to fear that if they were to say that some sensations are false, they would not have a certain and reliable criterion and rule. But they do not see that they would immediately run into the absurdity of declaring all opinions to be true—for we are naturally inclined to judge by them in many cases—and yet they nonetheless deem some of them to be true and others false. Furthermore, if one were to examine it, one would see that even among other criteria, there is nothing that is always and in every way unfailing; I am speaking, for instance, of a balance, or a carpenter's square, or anything of that sort; rather, each of them, in this way, is accurate, but in that way, defective; and using it this way, it tells the truth, but using it that way, it lies. And indeed, if every sensation were true, there would be no need for them to differ so much. For there are those things perceived from nearby and from afar, and those of the sick and the healthy, and of the skilled and the unskilled, and of the wise and the foolish. And it would be altogether absurd to call the sensations of the insane true, as well as those of people who see or hear incorrectly. For it would be a silly thing to say, regarding one who sees incorrectly, that he either sees or does not see. For someone might say that he does see, but not correctly. Yet, when they say that sensation, being non-rational, neither adds anything nor takes anything away, it is evident that they do not see what is right before their eyes. For in the case of the oar in the water, and in paintings, and in ten thousand other things, ^C it is sensation itself that deceives us. Hence it is that we all blame not our own mind in such cases, but the appearance. For the argument refutes itself by claiming that every appearance is true. For it declares our own [view], because of which we do not believe every appearance to be such, to be altogether false. It follows, therefore, that according to them, every appearance is both true and false. Furthermore, they err generally by maintaining that things are exactly as they appear to us. For on the contrary, they appear as they are by nature, and we do not make them to be so; rather, we are affected by them in a certain way. For it would be ridiculous if, should we think of puppies or chimeras, as painters and sculptors do, we were to demand that they be real immediately, and that because we imagine them, they should therefore be present as though they were ready at hand. That those who claim that every sensation and every appearance is true, do not speak correctly, is evident from these things. ^D

But even with things standing as they do, once again, those around Epicurus, setting out from the succession of Aristippus, hung everything upon pleasure and sensation, defining only the modifications of the soul as strictly apprehensible and pleasure as the final good. Epicurus is said by some to have heard no one, but to have encountered the writings of the ancients; but by others, that he heard Xenocrates, and later became a follower of Nausiphanes the Pyrrhonean. Let us now observe what has been argued against him.

CHAPTER XXI. Against the Epicureans, who would have pleasure to be the end. From the same.

^A "Since," he says, "there is a twofold species of cognition: one by which we perceive external things, and another by which we sense what is to be sought and what is to be avoided by us, there have existed some who established pleasure and pain as the source and rule of choice and avoidance in us. And even to this day, those around Epicurus say similar things. It is therefore necessary to consider this matter also. I am so far from saying that the affection is the source and rule of goods and evils, that it seems to me that it itself requires a different rule of judgment. For that it exists, it shows of itself; but what sort it is, requires something else to judge it. For whether it is innate or foreign, sense pronounces; but whether it is to be sought or to be avoided, reason decides. They themselves, indeed, say that they do not embrace every pleasure, nor avoid every pain. And this happens very reasonably. For criteria show both themselves and the things being judged; ^B but an affection shows only itself. And they themselves testify that this is the case. For although they claim that every pleasure is good and every pain is evil, they nevertheless say that one should not always choose the one and avoid the other; for they are measured by quantity, even if not by quality. It is clear, therefore, that quantity is judged by nothing else than reason. For the statement, 'It is better to endure certain pains so that we may enjoy greater pleasures,' and the statement, 'It is expedient to abstain from certain pleasures, so that we may not suffer more severe pains,' and all such things, are judged by reason. In general, senses and impressions are like mirrors and images of things; but affections, pleasures, and pains are changes and alterations of ourselves. In this way, while we are sensing and forming impressions, we look to external things; but while we are enjoying or suffering, we turn back only to ourselves. For our senses are produced by outward things, and whatever those things are like, such are the impressions they produce; but these affections are of a certain quality because of us, and according to how we are. For this reason they appear now pleasant, now unpleasant, and sometimes more so and sometimes less. Thus, if we wish to examine them, we shall find that those who best determine the principles of knowledge are they who make use of both the senses and the mind. ^C It seems that sense is like the nets and the traps and other such implements of hunters, while the mind and reason are like the dogs that track and pursue. For these reasons, it is necessary to consider those as better philosophers who neither use the senses just as they happen, nor just accept the affections for the discernment of the truth. For it would be terrible indeed if men, being what they are by nature, were to surrender themselves to irrational pleasures and pains, abandoning the most divine judge, the mind." These things [are] from Aristocles.

CHAPTER XXII. Again, against those who define pleasure as the good. From Plato's Philebus.

^A "Let us, therefore," he says, "compare each of these three things with pleasure and the mind, one by one. For we must see to which of these we should assign each thing as being more akin. You understand beauty, truth, and moderation?" "I do." "Take first the truth, O Protarchus, and having taken it, looking toward the three—mind, truth, and pleasure—after waiting for a long time, answer yourself: which is more akin to truth, pleasure or the mind?" "What need is there of time? For, in my judgment, it makes a great difference. Pleasure is the most arrogant of all things; and concerning those related to Venus, which are considered to be the most intense of all, it is commonly ^B said that if one commits perjury in these matters, one easily obtains pardon from the gods, because they, just like some children, are completely devoid of any mind. But the mind is either the very same thing as truth, or it is the most similar and most true of all things." "Will you not, therefore, consider moderation in the same way? Does pleasure possess more of it, or prudence?" "You have also proposed an easy question for consideration. For I think one could never find anything in existing things more immoderate than pleasure and excessive joy, nor, on the other hand, anything more moderate than the mind and knowledge." "Well said. But still tell me the third thing. Does the mind participate more in beauty than the class of pleasure, so that the mind is more beautiful than pleasure, or is it the reverse?" "But did anyone ever, ^C O Socrates, either awake or dreaming, see or conceive of prudence and mind being shameful anywhere, in any way, whether coming into being, or existing, or about to exist?" "Correct. But indeed, whenever we see anyone indulging in pleasures, and those almost the greatest, because either laughter or the greatest shame follows upon them openly, we ourselves are ashamed, and, hiding them, we bury them as much as possible, consigning all such things to the darkness of night, as if they feared the scrutiny of the light. Will you not then, O Protarchus, proclaim everywhere, both by the mediation of messengers to those who are absent and by voice to those present, that pleasure is not the first possession, nor the second, but that the first is in some way concerned with measure, and the moderate, and the timely, and ^D all such things as must be considered to have been declared the eternal nature?" "It seems so from what has been said just now." "The second is concerned with the proportionate, and the beautiful, and the complete, and the sufficient, and all such things as belong to this class of generation." "It seems so. Therefore, the third..."

as I conjecture, ^A if you were to place mind and wisdom, you would not be far from the truth." "Perhaps." "Are there not then a fourth," (16) which we have attributed to the soul itself, as sciences, and arts, and correctly spoken opinions, which are to be considered as fourth in relation to the three? If indeed they are more akin to the good than to pleasure." (17) "Very likely." "Fifth then, the pleasures which we defined as painless, calling them pure, of the soul itself, and following upon the senses." "Perhaps."

"And in the sixth generation," says Orpheus, "conclude ^B the song."

Indeed, it is likely that our discourse should also be concluded in the sixth judgment. For there is nothing remaining, except to place, as it were, a crown upon what has been said. "And so it should be." Come then, let us testify to the same Savior, and resume this discourse of ours which we have now gone through for the third time. "Which one, pray?" Philebus posited that all pleasure was the good, complete and entire. "The third, Socrates, as you seem to have said just now, is that the discourse must be taken up from the beginning." "Yes. Let us hear what follows. For I, having perceived what I have now gone through, and being displeased at the argument of Philebus, not only, but also of countless others, said that mind is, by far, ^C better and more excellent for human life than pleasure." "That was so." "But suspecting that there were also many other things, I said that if anything should appear anywhere better than both, I would struggle for mind against pleasure in the matter of the second place, if pleasure were to be deprived of the second place." "You did indeed say so." "And after these things, it appeared that neither of these was sufficiently adequate for all things." "Most true." "Therefore, in this discourse, both mind and pleasure were entirely cast out, and the good itself was not considered to be either of them, as they were both lacking self-sufficiency and the power of the sufficient and the perfect." "Most correctly." "But another, something better than both of these, having appeared, mind was found to be, by a great measure, more akin and ^D more naturally related to the idea of that which wins than pleasure." "How could it be otherwise?" "Therefore, the power of pleasure, as the discourse has now declared, would come in fifth in the judgment." "It seems so." "And let this be the first: even if all oxen, and horses, and all other wild beasts were to say so, pursuing pleasure—to whom the many, believing them as if they were soothsayers, judge that pleasures are the most excellent for us to live well, and think the loves of the beasts to be more authoritative witnesses than those of the discourse which is, at each time, inspired by the Muse of philosophy." "Most truly, Socrates, we all now say that you have spoken well."

These are the words of Plato. And I [provide] to you also [that] of Dionysius,

^A a man of the philosophy according to Christ, bishop, taken from his own words as they stand, having [these] translated from the [works] that argue against Epicurus.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"Whether," he says, "the universe is one and coherent, as it appears to us and to the most wise of the Greeks, Plato and Pythagoras, and those from the Stoa, and Heraclitus; or two, as perhaps someone might have supposed; or rather many and even infinite, as it has seemed to certain others who, through many deviations of their thought and varied ways of naming things, have attempted to fragment the substance of the whole, and propose it to be infinite, and unbegotten, ^B and devoid of providence? For some, calling them 'atoms'—certain incorruptible and very small bodies, infinite in number—and introducing some 'void' space, not circumscribed by any boundaries, declare that these atoms are moving about at random in that void, and as they collide with one another by chance through an irregular motion, and, because of their many-sided forms, become entangled and grasp one another, and thus they effect the world and the things in it—or rather, they effect infinite worlds." Epicurus and Democritus have shared in this view; but they differed to the extent that Epicurus held all atoms to be the smallest, and therefore imperceptible by the senses, while Democritus held that some atoms at ^C least are very large. Both, however, teach that they are called and are indissoluble because of their unbreakable firmness. There are some, however, who by the name of 'atoms' understand certain bodies which themselves lack parts, yet are parts of the universe, from which, being indivisible, all things are composed and into which they are dissolved. Of these parts lacking internal division, they say Diodorus was the originator of the term; as for the name, they say Heraclides gave them another, calling them 'masses' (*ogkoi*), from whom also the physician Asclepiades inherited the name. ^D Having said this, he proceeds to refute the doctrine through many [points], and among other things, with the words that follow.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"How, then, can we tolerate these men, when they say that works full of wisdom, and therefore good, were made by chance? And [they say this regarding works] every one of which, having come into being separately or all together, appeared good to Him by whose command all things had existence. 'For God saw,' he says, 'all things that He had made; and behold, they were very good.' (Gen. I, 31). And yet not even..."

^A from small and customary examples, and those near at hand that provide instruction, can they learn that nothing useful and beneficial is produced without care or by mere chance, but is rather established through skillful labor. But when it falls into uselessness and is scattered by chance, it is because wisdom, by which it was to have been constituted, no longer handles or directs it. For a garment is not woven without a weaver, with the warp threads being established, nor does the woof interweave itself automatically. And if it should be worn out, the shredded pieces are cast away as rags. A house or a city is built, not by accepting some stones that settle of their own accord into the foundations, and others that leap upward into the superstructures, but the mason puts the suitable stones in their place. But once it has been razed, each part falls wherever it may, and is scattered. And in the construction of a ship, neither does a keel place itself, nor does the mast in the middle rise upright of its own accord, nor does each of the other timbers occupy the position it caught by chance; nor are the so-called hundred timbers of a wagon joined together into whatever empty space each happens to find. But the carpenter brought together what was needful for each ^B. But if the ship, while sailing the sea, were to be broken up, or a wagon being carried along the land, the timbers are scattered wherever chance may take them, some by the waves, others by the force of the momentum. Thus it would be fitting to say to them that those atoms of theirs, remaining idle, unmade by hand, and useless, are carried about at random. For let those invisible ones look, and let those without understanding perceive, not like him who, having this made manifest to himself by God, confesses it to God himself with these words: "Your unformed substance my eyes beheld." (Ps. CXXXVIII, 16). And when they also say that the fine-woven fabrics come from atoms, and yet say that these things are produced by them without wisdom and without perception, who will tolerate hearing of these atoms that are without order, of which even the spider is wiser, crafting by its own skill? ^{C D}

very elegant, which they say are woven from their atoms, while at the same time they add that they were perfected by those same atoms without design or sensation? Who, pray, could tolerate them when they thrust upon us indigestible and crude atoms, which a spider’s wisdom far surpasses, since it constructs its own work by its own industry?

CHAPTER XXV.

A Who could listen with a fair ear to the assertion that this vast house, consisting of heaven and earth, which on account of the great and manifold wisdom inherent in it is called the world, has received all its order and adornment from atoms that are carried about without any order, and that disturbance itself has been changed into a world? Who could believe that those set motions and revolutions spring from some inconstant impulse? Who could believe that the absolute harmony of heavenly things is tempered by unorganized and discordant instruments? ^B Moreover, how is it that, while the essence of all is one and the same, and their nature is the same incorruptible one, yet—merely by the difference of magnitude and shape, as they say—some bodies are nevertheless, as they themselves might call them, divine, superior to fate, and everlasting, or at least, as someone has preferred to say, of longer life? Some of these are perceived by sight, such as the sun, moon, stars, earth, and water; others escape the senses, such as gods, demons, and souls. For these exist, and they cannot deny it, however much they might wish to. ^C Others, again, possess a very long life, whether they are of the genus of living creatures or of plants. Of living creatures, as they themselves assert, there are among birds, eagles, ravens, and phoenixes; among land animals, stags, elephants, and dragons; and among sea creatures, what are called whales. Among trees, there are palms, oaks, and persea trees. Some of these retain a perpetual greenness, of which kind fourteen are enumerated by someone; others bloom at a certain time and are also stripped of their leaves. Finally, others, and indeed these are by far the most numerous, whether they spring from the earth or are born, are included within the most severe limits of a very brief life, among which is man himself, as the divine Scripture speaks of him in one place, saying: “But man, born of a woman, living for a short time.” ^D I suppose they will reply that the diverse connections of the atoms are the causes of such a great difference in persistence. For they say that some, evidently, are bound together more closely and tightly by them, and because they are thus denser, they are for that reason far more difficult to dissolve; whereas others, because they are bound by a looser and more relaxed connection of atoms, and this, moreover, with some distinctiveness, are therefore more quickly or more slowly removed from their arrangement and connection. Lastly, that some are composed of certain things, and others of other things, which are shaped in a certain way and which behave otherwise among themselves. But who, then, is the judge of these various, so to speak, tribes, who gathers some and dissipates others? Who brings them together among themselves in such a way that from them now a sun arises, and now a moon? Who, finally, [assigns to the natures of individual stars those things which are specific and natural to each]?

^A And if, indeed, the composition of these things happened without sensation, as if they were inanimate, they had need of a knowledgeable creator; but if the union was involuntary and by necessity, as if they were irrational, some wise shepherd of the flock drove them together and presided over them; but if they have been assembled voluntarily for a work of their own, some wonderful architect and taskmaster of them has led them; or, just as a well-ordered general does not leave the army confused [and everything mixed together, but in order designates the cavalry, and separately the heavy infantry, and the javelin-throwers by themselves, and the archers apart, and the slingers where it was necessary, so that those in similar gear might fight in alliance with one another]. If they think this example is a laughingstock because I am making a comparison of large bodies with the smallest, we shall pass on to the smallest things. ^B Next, following these things, he adds: “And if neither a word, nor an election, nor an arrangement of a commander were to be imposed upon them, but they themselves, directing themselves from the great turbulence of the flux, and having passed through the great tumult of collisions, were to lead the likes to their likes, not by God, according to the poet, but were to run together and herd together, recognizing their kin—what a wonderful democracy of atoms this is, of friends greeting friends and embracing, and hastening to dwell in one neighborhood! And of some being turned automatically into a great light, the sun, so that they might make the day; and of others being ignited into perhaps many pyramids of stars, so that they might crown the whole heaven; and of others, being arranged so that they might randomly solidify the aether and vault it into a stepping-ground for the lights, and the assemblies of common atoms might choose for themselves units, and allot the heaven into homes and stations for themselves.” ^C Then, after other things, he says: “But not even the obvious things do the un-provident see themselves, and they are far from being able to comprehend the unseen. For they seem not even to suspect the ordered risings and settings, neither of the others, nor the most conspicuous of the sun; nor to use the aids gifted through them to men, being ignited for work by day, and shielded by night for rest. ^D ‘For man shall go out,’ it says, ‘unto his work, and to his labor until the evening.’ But not even the other revolution of it do they inspect, according to which it performs appointed hours, and timely seasons, and unalterable turnings, guided by the atoms of which it consists. But even if the miserable ones do not wish it—yet as the righteous believe—great is the Lord who made it, and in His words He has hastened the course. For atoms, O you blind ones, bring you winter and rains, so that the earth may yield food for you and for all the animals upon it; and they bring summer, so that you may also take the fruits from the trees for your enjoyment. And why do you not worship and sacrifice to the atoms that yield fruit? You are ungrateful, not even dedicating to them a few first-fruits of the many gifts which you have from them.” And after a little he says:

^B “Moreover, that manifold nation of the stars, which the erratic and ever-scattered atoms have brought together, has distributed places to itself in the manner of a colony or fellowship, by a common pact, following the authority of neither a founder nor the head of a family. And thus, in succession, they all observe the laws of neighborliness with their neighbors, religiously and with deep peace, and they never cross the boundaries which they received from the beginning, exactly as if they were ruled by the laws of certain royal atoms. But those do not rule, in truth. For how could they rule, being nothing at all? But listen to the voice of the divine oracles: ‘In the judgment of the Lord are his works. From the beginning and from their creation, he distinguished their parts. He adorned his works forever, and their beginnings to their generations’ (Ps. CXI, 23; Eccli. XVI, 26). And he adds a little after: ‘Or what army,’ he says, ‘has ever crossed the field in such disciplined rank, with no one running ahead, no one straying, no one offering an impediment to the others, or falling behind the others? With how steady a rank, and with shields pressed together as it were, does that perpetual host of stars advance, never interrupted, never disturbed, or slowed by any obstacle? And yet, by certain transverse inclinations and movements, their changes sometimes become obscure. Be it so. Yet they always observe the just and proper time, and they foresee the places from which each one arises, as those who are occupied in this kind of study observe. Let the illustrious sectators of atoms, therefore, tell us—they who both divide the indivisible, and associate things that are separated and disjointed, and define infinite things with their mind—whence comes, at long last, that circular and conjoined course and revolution of the heavenly bodies: when not just one heap of atoms is revolving at random like a sling, but such a great chorus advances with a composite and equal step, and revolves in a circle as one? Or by what means does it happen that so many participants in the same journey, ordered by no one, possessed of no reason, and all unknown to one another, perform the journey they have undertaken with such great harmony at the same time? For the prophet rightly brought this forward, as one of those things which can neither be done nor shown, as when two strangers happen to meet, while he says, ‘Will two come together into the same inn, if they have not known one another?’” ^C He said this. Having pursued six hundred other things, he subsequently confirms the argument he has undertaken with many points, partly from the individual elements of the universe, partly from the multitude of all kinds of living creatures which they contain, and partly also from the nature of man itself. From these, when I have added a few things to what has been said above, then at last I shall put an end to this book. ^D The manifold and multi-mixed crowd of stars, which the ever-wandering and always-scattered atoms have brought together, have portioned out places for themselves according to agreements, as if they had taken up a colony or a common dwelling-place, with no founder or master of the house presiding over them. And they observe the neighborliness toward those who dwell nearby, keeping their oaths and living in peace, not exceeding the boundaries which they received from the beginning, as if they were legislated for by queen-atoms. But those do not rule! For how could they, who do not even exist? But listen to the divine words: “In the judgment of the Lord are his works. From the beginning and from their creation, he distinguished their parts; he adorned his works forever, and their origins unto their generations.” And after a little he says: “Or who has guided a phalanx in such orderly fashion through the plain of the earth, with no one running ahead, no one turning aside, no one stumbling, no one being left behind by those ranked with them? How do they always advance ^D as fellow-elementals and shield-bearers, this continuous and inseparable, unharassed, and unobstructed army of stars? And yet, by inclinations and sideways movements, some of them become obscure in their paths. And yet they are always keeping the time and seeing ahead to the regions from which each one arises—for those who have applied themselves to these things. Let the dissectors of atoms, therefore, tell us, and the dividers of the parts—the assemblers of the uncompounded—and those who scrutinize the infinite: whence comes the circular company and revolution of the heavenly bodies, not having been slung thus by one irrational heap of atoms, but as a great circular chorus, moving equal in rhythm and revolving together? Whence are they, who are disorganized, without any power of choice, and ignorant of one another, but so many fellow-travelers mixed together? The prophet did well to place this among the impossible and non-demonstrable things, even for two strangers to travel together: “Will two come along to the same inn,” he says, “unless they have recognized one another?” Having said these things, and having brought many other things to bear upon them, he subsequently builds up the problem at greater length, from the individual elements of the whole, from the all-kinds of living creatures in these, and indeed also from the nature of man. Adding a few things to these which have been said, I shall bring the present discourse to a close.

^A *CHAPTER XXVI.*

*It is concluded from the nature of man. From the same author.*

"And they do not see even themselves, nor the things that are proper to their own nature. For if any one of the founders of this doctrine of impiety were to consider with himself who he is and whence he came, he would surely, as if coming to his own senses, at once become wise, and with this voice, no longer calling upon atoms, but upon the Father and Creator himself, would say: 'Thy hands have fashioned me, and made me.' And he would further elaborate upon the wondrous manner of his own making: 'Didst Thou not milk me as milk, and curd me like cheese? Thou didst clothe me with skin and flesh, and didst knit me together with bones and nerves. Thou hast granted me life and mercy, and Thy visitation hath preserved my spirit.' ^B For how many, I ask, and of what kind were the atoms that the father of Epicurus poured forth from himself when he was begetting Epicurus? And how, when they were enclosed in his mother’s womb, did they coalesce, receive shape and form, move, and grow? And how did that tiny drop, having called forth the many atoms of Epicurus, clothe some of them, turned into skin and flesh, while others it set upright, turned into bones, and others it bound together, stitching them with nerves? And how did it fit together the many other members, the inward parts, the entrails, and the organs of sense, some within and others without, by which the body was given life? Of these, nothing idle or useless was added; for not even the meanest things, neither hairs nor nails, were [superfluous]: all things contribute, some to the benefit of [the body's] constitution, others to the beauty of [its] appearance. For Providence is concerned not only with need, but also with grace. ^C For the hair is a defense and covering for the whole head, while the beard is an ornament to the philosopher. And the nature of the whole human body is fitted together from all the necessary parts; and upon all the members, [Providence] has bestowed both communion with one another and has measured out the provision [needed] from the whole. Of these, some things are manifest and known by experience even to the unlearned, such as the power [possessed by each]: the head’s sovereignty, and around the brain, as if it were a ruler in an acropolis, the bodyguard of the senses—the eyes going forth, the ears acting as messengers, the sense of taste like an officer of supplies, the sense of smell tracking and searching out, ^D and touch directing everything subject to it. (For we are now cursorily running through a few of the works of all-wise Providence, and shortly, God willing, when we dispute against him who is thought to be more learned, we shall examine all things more fully and richly.) The ministry of the hands follows, by which all sorts of works and clever crafts are accomplished, being articulated with their particular faculties into one cooperation; the burden-bearing of the shoulders, the clenching of the fingers, the bending of the elbows—turning inwards to the body and receding outwards, so that they may be able to draw in and push away; the service of the feet, by which all the terrestrial creation has been made subject to us, the earth walkable, the sea navigable, the rivers passable, and there is a commerce of everything with everything. The belly is the storehouse of food for all the parts organized...

in their own proper place and order, distributing the just ration by itself and casting out whatever is superfluous. And the rest, by the power of which the rationale of human strength and preservation is contained. The use of these things is the same for the foolish and the wise alike, but the understanding of them is different. For some, according to the divinity they have ^A conceived in their minds, refer the whole rationale of this economy to it, as being the most knowledgeable of all things and most beneficent toward themselves, believing it to be the work of a higher and truly divine wisdom and power. Others, on the contrary, very insipidly defend the administration, so worthy of the highest admiration, as being the product of fortune and chance. But let those who have examined the more efficacious consideration of these things, and the rationale of the inner parts—the physicians, who have searched more deeply and diligently, and have been vehemently struck with wonder—attribute this to the divinity of nature; we, too, later, according to the measure allowed us, will ^B revisit them, even if only superficially. But in general, to sum up: who has fashioned this entire tabernacle in such a way—sublime, tall, upright, well-proportioned, sensitive, nimble, effective, and capable of all things? It is, they say, the irrational multitude of atoms. But even those, if they were to come together, ^C could not fashion an image of clay, nor polish a statue of stone, nor cast an idol of silver or gold; all of which the industry of men has devised, with arts of the hands suited for shaping bodies. If, therefore, their species cannot even be sketched or formed without wisdom, how did their true and original versions come to be automatically? And the soul, and the mind, and reason—from where did the philosopher get these? Did he beg them from inanimate, mindless, and irrational atoms, which breathed into him their own individual notion and dogma? And just as Hesiod’s myth tells of Pandora [being formed] by the gods, was the wisdom of man thus perfected by the atoms? And as for all poetry, all music, astronomy, geometry, and the other sciences, will the Greeks no longer say they are the discoveries and teachings of the gods, but that the only wise and knowledgeable "muses" of all things are the atoms? For the Theogony of Epicurus, [derived] from the atoms, has been exiled from the infinite worlds and cast into an infinite vastness of disorder.

CHAPTER XXVII

‘To work, to administer, to do good, to provide, and other such things, might perhaps be burdensome to the idle, the foolish, the weak, and the wicked—the number into which Epicurus has included himself, while holding such thoughts about the gods.’ ^D

^A But to the zealous, the capable, the prudent, and the temperate—such as philosophers ought to be (and how much more so the gods?)—these things are not only not unpleasant or arduous, but are most delightful and above all things most welcome; for them, negligence and the procrastination of virtuous deeds is a source of shame. To them belongs that counsel of the warning poet:

...Put not off till tomorrow. ^B And to this he adds an immediately following threat:

The procrastinator always struggles with dire losses.

But the prophet instructs us more seriously, declaring those actions that are joined with virtue to be truly worthy of God, and calling him detestable by whom they are neglected: “Cursed is he who does the work of the Lord negligently.” Furthermore, just as those who are inexperienced and beginners in any art whatever suffer hardship in their undertakings due to the novelty of the experience and the unaccustomed nature of the tasks—while those who have made progress, and still more those who are already perfect, take pleasure in easily accomplishing what they take in hand, and would prefer performing their accustomed tasks to finishing them, rather than to possess all the goods of men—so too does it stand here. ^C Democritus himself, indeed, as they say, claimed he would rather find one single causal explanation than become king of the Persians; and this he said while seeking causes in vain and without reason, as one starting from an empty principle and an erroneous hypothesis. Not seeing the root and the common necessity of the nature of things, he considered the highest wisdom to be the understanding of that which happens foolishly and unintelligently, established Fortune as the mistress and queen of universal and divine matters, and declared that all things happen according to her; yet he denied her any part in the life of men, and exposed as senseless those who venerated her. And so, beginning his precepts, he says: ^D “Men have fashioned an image of Fortune as a pretext for their own folly (for by nature, understanding fights against Fortune), and they have asserted that this, the greatest enemy of prudence, holds sway; or rather, while they entirely abolish and destroy the latter, they set the former in her place; for they do not praise prudence as fortunate, but they praise Fortune as most prudent.” ^D Those who are in charge of useful life-tasks rejoice in the aid they give to their fellow-kind, and they desire praise and glory for the toils they undertake for the general welfare: some by feeding, others by governing, others by healing, and others by conducting state affairs; and the philosophers themselves, as they strive to instruct men, show great enthusiasm. Will Epicurus or Democritus dare to say that they are distressed while they philosophize? But they would not propose any other delight than this; for even if they opine that the good is pleasure, they will surely be ashamed to say that the act of philosophizing is not pleasant to them; but as for the gods, regarding whom the poets among them sing that they are givers—

^A of good things, these philosophers, with mockery, proclaim that they are incapable of giving and have no share in any good. And by what line of reasoning are they induced to think them gods? They do not see them present or doing anything—unless, as we suppose, they were led to call them "gods" (*theous*) from their "running" (*theein*), through a consideration of their marvelous movement, having looked at the sun, the moon, and the stars. And they do not assign to them any act of creation or configuration, whereby they might call them gods from their "constituting" (*theinai*), that is, making—for it is for this reason that the Maker and Creator of all things is truly and alone God. Neither do they propose that there is any administration, or judgment, or grace extended from them toward men, so that we might worship them from fear or out of a sense of obligation.

Did Epicurus, peering forth beyond the world...

testimony of the Lord, "And everything according to His command turned out well." These points I have gleaned from the many things written by Dionysius, our contemporary bishop, against Epicurus. But it is time to move on to Aristotle, and to the sect of the Stoic philosophers, and to examine the remaining arguments of those admirable natural philosophers, so that we may provide an apology on our own behalf to those who are eager to find fault with us.

PREPARATION OF THE GOSPEL BOOK FIFTEEN

PREPARATION FOR THE GOSPEL BOOK FIFTEEN.

CAPITA OF THE FIFTEENTH BOOK

1. Proem in which the argument of the whole work is explained. 2. Concerning Aristotle and the history recorded about him. From Aristocles the Peripatetic. 3. Concerning the dogmas according to Aristotle, and how he differed from the Hebrews and from Plato in establishing the end of what is good. 4. Atticus the Platonist against Aristotle, regarding his disagreement with Moses and Plato in establishing the reasoning of the end. 5. The same against the same, attacking him for his disagreement with Moses and Plato on the question of Providence. 6. The same against the same, disputing his disagreement with Moses and Plato concerning the world, whose generation he denied. 7. The same against the same, regarding his putting forward a fifth essence of bodies, which neither Moses nor Plato knows. 8. The same against the same, regarding his disagreement with Plato also in the theories concerning the heavens, which Moses does not concern himself with. 9. The same against the same, and concerning his disagreement with Plato and the doctrines of the Hebrews on the question of the immortality of the soul. 10. Plotinus, from the second book of his *On the Immortality of the Soul*, against Aristotle, who asserted that the soul is an entelechy. 11. Porphyry on the same subject. From the works *To Boethus On the Soul*.