Cicero's "On Ends" - Reid Edition

M. TVLLI CICERONIS DE FINIBVS BONORVM ET MALORVM

LIBRI QVINQVE.

THE TEXT REVISED AND EXPLAINE BY JAMES S. REID, M.L,

FELLOW AND ASSISTANT TUTOR OF GONVILLE AND CAIUS COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE; CLASSICAL EXAMINER IN THE UNIVERSITY OF LONDON.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III Containing the Translation.

Cambridge : AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.

PREFATORY NOTE.

My rendering of Cicero’s De Finibus is primarily designed as an appendage to my forthcoming annotated edition of the text. The translation will enable me to lighten the commentary, since it will sufficiently explain many difficulties which would otherwise have required notes. It has been necessary for my design to follow Cicero’s syntax as closely as the English language permitted, so that the student may not be left in doubt about my way of taking any particular passage. But I have at the same time striven to make the rendering run smoothly, and I hope it will be found not too harsh for the ear of the English reader. In representing technical expressions I have endeavored to choose English phrases which shall be as wide in their meaning as the ancient terms them- selves. I have sometimes seen it urged that in translating ancient philosophical works, and especially those of Cicero, the technical terms of modern philosophy should be employed. But to do so would be to destroy, and not to represent the original — to substitute in fact modern ideas for the ancient. Only a few of the commonest and vaguest modern expressions are in fact applicable. I have, however, tried to avoid paraphrase, and, to help the reader, have sometimes placed in italics words used to represent the technical phrases of the Latin.

There is some inconvenience, but I hope very slight, in issuing the translation in advance of the text and commentary. My text, when actually printed, will not differ very largely from that of Madvig, and a great many of the alterations will be such as to affect the translation but little. My plan required me to complete the translation before writing out the commentary, and I trust the present volume may be useful to some students in the interval that must elapse before the rest of the edition appears.

I hope to publish at some future time a separate edition of the translation for English readers, with an introduction and notes especially intended to show the historical importance of the ancient ethical systems treated in the De Finibus.

I have compared my translation throughout with that of R. Kühner (Stuttgart ), which is scholarly and valuable.

1. BOOK I - The Epicureans

WHILE I was engaged, Brutus, in transferring to our Latin literature those investigations which in the Greek tongue had been handled by philosophers of consummate ability and profound learning; it did not escape me that this task of mine would meet with censure of different kinds. Some there are indeed (persons, I admit, not entirely without learning) who look with disfavor on the whole pursuit of philosophy. Some again do not so much object to it, if it be laxly carried on, but think that so much devotion and such great energy should not be expended upon it. Some too, men no doubt skilled in the literature of Greece, but indifferent to Latin, will declare that they would rather devote their energy to the perusal of works written in Greek. Finally, I imagine there will be some who will invite me into other paths of literature, affirming that this style of composition, refined though it be, shall not in accord with my character and position. In reply to all these critics I deem it necessary to say a few words, though certainly the depreciators of philosophy have received a sufficient reply in the treatise wherein I championed and eulogized philosophy, while it was attacked and depreciated by Hortensius. Finding that this treatise was manifestly acceptable, not only to yourself, but to all whom I supposed competent to form an opinion, I have taken in hand several other subjects; for I feared it might be thought that I aroused the interest of readers, without the power to sustain it.

Again those who, however much they approve of my design, still desire that it should be executed with some reserve, call for a self-control that is hard to exercise in a matter where, when the rein is once loosened, no check nor curb can be applied; hence we feel that the critics who beckon us entirely away from philosophy treat us almost more fairly than men who try to set a bound to matters which admit of no limitation, and who call for moderation in the treatment of a subject which increases in value precisely as its range is extended. Now if on the one hand it is possible for us to arrive at wisdom, we are not only to acquire it, but to reap enjoyment from it; if on the other hand our task is hard, still not only is discovery the sole limit to the exploration of truth, but when the object of search is the noblest possible, weariness in the search becomes disgraceful. Further, if writing is a pleasure to me, who is so grudging as to drag me away from that occupation? Or if it tasks my energy, who is there that should set a bound to the employments of another? So while the Chremes of Terence shows no unkindly spirit when he wishes that his new neighbor should not dig nor plow nor toil indeed at all (for he tries to withdraw him not from occupation, but from menial toil) these critics are fussy who feel displeasure at exertions which to me are by no means unpleasant.

II. Well then, it is still harder to meet the views of men who say they are indifferent to works written in Latin. With regard to these persons, the first thing I fail to understand is why their mother tongue, when employed upon the most weighty themes, gives them no pleasure, though the same persons are not unwilling to read Latin plays which are translated word for word from Greek. Pray, what man exists so unfriendly, I might almost say, to the name of Roman, that he treats the Medea of Ennius or the Antiopa of Pacuvius with scorn or condemnation, on the plea that he takes pleasure in the same plays as written by Euripides, while he feels a distaste for Latin literature? Am I, says such an one, to read the Young Comrades of Caecilius or the Andrian Woman of Terence in preference to both plays by Menander? I am so far from agreeing with such persons, that though Sophocles composed the Electra with the utmost skill, I still think it my duty to read the bad version of Atilius, of whom Licinus said that he was an iron author, but, as I think, an author for all that, so that he is to be read; since to be altogether unacquainted with the poets of our own country indicates either the most sluggish idleness or the most sickly taste.

For my part I think no man’s education complete, who is unacquainted with our own literature. While we read Would that never in the grove as much as the same piece in Greek, are we not to find pleasure in good Latin expositions of the views maintained by Plato concerning the - good and happy life? How will it be if I do not take upon me the office of translator, but, remaining faithful to the opinions expressed by my authorities, use my own discretion about them and apply to them my own plan of composition? What reason have my critics for preferring Greek treatises to others written in brilliant style and not merely translated from the Greek? Now if they mean to plead that the Greeks have already handled these topics, I answer that they can shew no reason why, of the Greek writers themselves, they should read such a number as are thought needful to be read. I ask, what point in the Stoic system has been overlooked by Chrysippus? Yet we read Diogenes, Antipater, Mnesarchus, Panaetius and many others, and in particular my friend Posidonius. What? Does Theophrastus afford us only a moderate pleasure when he handles topics already handled by Aristotle before him? Again, do Epicureans cease writing to please themselves on the very themes which. were treated by Epicurus and the ancients? Now if the Greeks do study Greek writers who deal with subjects already treated, only following a different arrangement, what reason is there why our own countrymen should not read our native writers?

III. However, if I were to render Plato and Aristotle in every respect as our poets rendered the plays, I suppose I should be doing poor service to my fellow-countrymen, in bringing men of such glorious genius within their ken! But this is what I have not done as yet, though I do not consider myself debarred from doing it. Some passages indeed I shall translate, if it seems advisable, and particularly from the philosophers I have just named, as Ennius often translates from Homer and Afranius from Menander. Nor yet will I make any protest, like our own Lucilius, against one and all reading my works. I only wish the famous Persius were alive, and still more Scipio and Rutilius, from whose criticism the poet shrinks and declares that he writes for the people of Tarentum and Consentia and Sicily. A droll speech, like many of his; but there existed then no class learned enough for him to finish his works to suit their taste, and again his writings are somewhat slight, so that they exhibit extreme wittiness, but only moderate learning. But why should I fear any reader, seeing that I venture to address myself to you, who do not yield in philosophy even to the Greeks? It is true, however, that you yourself, by dedicating to me that most delightful work of yours concerning virtue, challenged me to do what I am now doing. But the reason why some people are led to feel aversion for Latin writers is, I believe, that they have come across certain rude and uncouth treatises, rendered from bad Greek originals into worse Latin. And I agree with these critics if only they admit that on such subjects even the Greeks are not worth reading.

But when the matter is good, and worthily and richly set forth in choice language, who would refuse to read, unless it be one who wants to have himself dubbed a complete Greek, in the style which Scaevola when praetor used in addressing Albucius at Athens? The story has been touched on with much grace and all possible point by the same Lucilius, in whose pages Scaevola makes this splendid speech: You have chosen, Albucius, to be called a Greek; rather than a Roman and a Sabine, and a fellow townsman of Pontius and Tritanus the centurions, splendid men, and chiefs and ensign-bearers; therefore now being praetor I address you at Athens in Greek, according to your wish, whenever you visit me; Xaipe, Titus, say I, and so say my orderlies, my whole squadron and my suite; Xaipe, Titus! From this time is Albucius my foe, from this time my enemy! But Mucius was quite right; though I cannot sufficiently express the curiosity I feel to discover the source of such an arrogant disdain for the products of our country. I quite admit that this is not the place to prove the point, but my opinion is, and I have often expressed it, that the Latin tongue is not only not barren, as the common view is, but is even richer than the Greek. For when did we, or I will rather say, when did good speakers or poets, as soon as models existed for them to imitate, ever feel the lack of any adornments suited either to an abundant or a chaste style?

IV. For myself, however, since, as I believe, amid the occupations, exertions and dangers of the forum, I never deserted the post to which I was appointed by the Roman people, I assuredly am bound also to strive to the best of my power that my fellow-countrymen may become more learned through my diligence, zeal and industry, and while declining all serious contest with those who prefer to read Greek (if only they do read it, and not merely make pretense) it is my duty to give my services to those who either desire to enjoy both literatures, or do not greatly feel the want of the Greek, if they are provided with literature of their own. Now those who prefer that I should write on other subjects are bound to shew me fairness, because I have written many works, so that no countryman of mine has written more, and I shall perhaps write more still, if life last; and putting that aside, anyone who accustoms himself to read carefully the views on philosophy which I now commit to writing, will judge that there is no more profitable reading than these supply. What other question I ask is there in life which we should examine with such energy, as all the problems with which philosophy is concerned, but particularly the inquiry pursued in these books, what is our end, aim and goal, by what principle all our plans for good living and right action are to be guided, what it is that nature pursues as the highest object of desire, what she shuns as the utmost evil? And seeing that there is extreme disagreement among the most learned men on this subject, who would think it derogatory to the position which every man assigns to me, if I investigate what is the best and truest view of every function in life? The first men in the country, Publius Scaevola and Manius Manilius, debated whether the offspring of a female slave is part of her hirer’s profit, and Marcus Brutus disagreed with them (a kind of debate which is subtle and not without advantage to the interests of our burgesses, and I gladly read and will read these writings, and the rest of the same class). Well then, are these other questions with which our whole life is bound up, to be passed by? Indeed, allowing that the former study is more in vogue, the latter is assuredly more fruitful; though that is a point which I will leave readers to decide. For my part, I believe I have in the present work pretty nearly expounded the whole problem concerning the standards of good and evil, and in the course of the work I have, so far as I could, traced out not only my own views, but also the statements made by each separate school of philosophy.

V. To begin with the easiest opinions, let the theory of Epicurus first enter the arena. It is to most people thoroughly familiar, and you will perceive that I have set it forth with an exactness which is not commonly surpassed even by the adherents of the school themselves; for my desire is to find truth and not to confound as it were some opponent. Now the tenets of Epicurus concerning pleasure were once carefully advocated by Lucius Torquatus, a gentleman trained in every department of learning, and I replied to him, while Gaius Triarius, a particularly serious and well instructed youth, was present at the debate. Well, both of them having come to me in my villa at Cumae to pay their respects, we had at first a little conversation about literary matters, in which both took the greatest interest; then Torquatus said, ‘As we have at last found you free, I shall surely learn what is the reason why you do not exactly dislike our teacher Epicurus, as do most of those who disagree with him, but certainly do not approve of him, though I believe that he alone has seen the truth, and has set free the minds of men from the most grievous misconceptions, and has taught all that is essential for the good and happy life; but I judge that your pleasure in him, like that of our friend Triarius, is diminished because he cared little for those graces that adorn the style of a Plato, an Aristotle and a Theophrastus. I can scarcely bring myself to believe that you deem his opinions to be wanting in truth.”

‘Just see, said I, ‘Torquatus, how great is your mistake. It is not the style of your philosopher which displeases me, for he compasses his meaning by the terms he employs, and states clearly things such as I understand; and while I should not feel averse to any philosopher for displaying eloquence, I should still not demand it very loudly if he did not possess it; in his subject-matter he fails to content me in the same measure; and what I say concerns a number of topics. But there are as many opinions as there are men, so I may be wrong. ‘How is it, pray,’ said he, ‘that he does not content you? for I think you an impartial critic, if only you rightly under- stand his drift.’ ‘Unless, said I, ‘you suppose that I heard falsehoods from Phaedrus or Zeno, both of whom were my teachers, and in whom certainly the one thing I approved was their diligence, then all the tenets of Epicurus are quite familiar to me; and I constantly attended the lectures of the philosophers I have just named, in company with my friend Atticus, who on his side felt admiration for both, and for Phaedrus even affection, and we used to discuss with each other every day the lessons we heard, nor did the dispute ever turn on my understanding, but on my approval.’

VI. ‘What is the matter, then?’ said he; ‘for I long to be told what it is that you do not sanction? ‘At the outset, said I, ‘in natural science, which is his chief boast, he is in the first place altogether unoriginal. He states the doctrines of Democritus, with a few changes, but of such a nature that in my opinion he distorts the theories which he desires to amend. Democritus holds that through the limitless void, which has neither highest nor lowest point, nor centre, nor end, nor bound, the atoms, as he calls them, meaning thereby bodies indivisible owing to their impenetrability, sweep along in such a manner that by their collisions they adhere to each other, and produce all objects which exist and are discernible; and that it is fitting to regard this movement of the atoms as having no beginning, but as existent from infinite time. Now Epicurus does not generally stumble where he follows Democritus. Yet there are many points about both with which I do not sympathize, and particularly this, that while in the world of phenomena two problems are set before us, one that of the substance out of which each object is evolved, and the other that of the power which evolves each object, they have discoursed of the substance, and have passed over the power and the efficient force. But this fault is common to both ; the peculiar downfall of Epicurus is this: he pronounces that these same indivisible and impenetrable bodies are carried downward by their own weight in a straight line; this he declares to be the natural movement of all bodies.

Then in a moment it struck this shrewd fellow that if all bodies were carried along perpendicularly and, as I said, in a straight line, no one atom could ever touch another; consequently he introduced an idea purely fictitious; he declared that the atom swerved a very little, the least bit possible; this swerving produced attachments, combinations and unions of atoms one with another, out of which was evolved the universe and all the divisions of the universe and all the things therein. And while this whole theory is a childish imagination, it does not even prove what he desires, For not only is this very ‘swerving a capricious fiction (since he says the atom swerves without a cause, whereas nothing is more discreditable to a natural philosopher than to declare that anything happens without a cause) but further, for no reason whatever, he robs the atoms of the motion natural to all heavy substances, which, as he himself laid down, seek a lower point in a perpendicular line; yet for all that he did not achieve the end: for which he had fabricated these notions. For if all atoms are to swerve, none will ever adhere to each other, and if some: are to swerve, while others are to sweep on in a straight line by their own moment, this will, to begin with, be the same as assigning separate functions, so to ‘say, to the atoms, determining which are to move straight and which at an angle to the line; next, this same disorderly collision of the atoms (which is a weak point of Democritus as well) will never have power to produce this ordered universe.

Nor is it proper in a natural philosopher to believe in a least possible body, a hypothesis he certainly never would have formed, if he had chosen to learn mathematics of his friend Polyaenus rather than to make him actually unlearn what he knew himself. Democritus believes the sun to be of great size, as is to be expected from a man of education and an accomplished mathematician ; this philosopher thinks it a foot broad, perhaps, for he pronounces that its real size is the same as its apparent size, or, it may be, either just a little larger or smaller. So he spoils the doctrines he alters, and those he accepts are entirely the property of Democritus, The atoms, the void, the forms which they call idols, by whose inroad we not only see but even think, the boundless substance itself, ________ as they call it, comes entirely from him; further, the countless universes which both rise and perish every day. And though these are matters I by no means accept, still I wish that Democritus, who has been applauded by all others, had not been reviled by this man, who followed him beyond all others.

VII. Further, in the second division of philosophy, which comprises dialectical investigation and is entitled Aoyexn, your philosopher is, it seems to me, utterly defenseless and without weapons. He does away with the process of definition; he has nothing to teach about subdivision or partition; he lays down no method for constructing and shaping an argument; he does not shew by what means fallacies are to be unriddled or the senses of ambiguous terms disentangled; he places his criterion of objective truth in the senses, and thinks that if they once admit any particle of falsehood for truth, all possibility of a criterion of truth and falsehood is destroyed. * * * This position is especially strengthened by what nature herself, as he says, adopts and approves, I mean the distinction between pleasure and pain. By these tests he decides in every case what we are to strive after and what we are to shun. However, though the scheme belongs to Aristippus and is much better and more frankly advocated by the Cyrenaics, it is in my judgment of such a character that I believe no system more unworthy of the human race. Nature has in truth created and shaped us for certain higher aims, in my view at least.. I may indeed be wrong; but that is just what I think, nor do I suppose that the Torquatus, who first won for himself the title, either expected to reap any bodily enjoyment from his action when he wrenched the necklet from his foe, or had pleasure in view when he did battle with the Latins in his third consulship on the banks of the Veseris. Moreover, as regards the beheading of his son, he actually, it is clear, robbed himself of many pleasures, by setting the law of treason and of military obedience higher than nature herself and paternal affection.

Once more, do you suppose that Titus Torquatus, he who held the consulship along with Gnaeus Octavius, gave a thought to his own pleasures when he treated his own son, whom he had given in adoption to Decimus Silanus, with such sternness that, when an embassy from Macedonia charged the son with having taken bribes as praetor in the province, he ordered his son to state his case before him, and after hearing evidence on both sides gave judgment that in his opinion the son in his provincial command had not shewn himself such a man as his ancestors had been, and so forbade him to come into his presence. But to say nothing of the dangers, toils and pain too, which all the best citizens under- go in defense of their country and their own people, not merely ceasing to court, but actually passing by every pleasure, and preferring to incur any pains whatsoever, rather than to prove traitors to a single call of duty, let us I say pass on to considerations which though they seem of less account, still testify no less emphatically to the same facts. What pleasure do you, Torquatus, or what does our friend Triarius here derive from literature, from records and the investigation of historical facts, from conning the poets, from learning by heart so laboriously so many lines? And do not say to me “Why, these very actions bring me pleasure, as theirs did to the Torquati.” Never indeed did Epicurus or Metrodorus or any one possessed of any wisdom or any knowledge of the tenets of your school ever maintain such a position by such arguments.

And when the question is asked, as it often is, why Epicureans are so numerous, I answer that there are no doubt other motives, but the motive which especially fascinates the crowd is this; they believe their chief to declare that all upright and honorable actions are in themselves productive of delight, or rather pleasure. These excellent persons do not perceive that the whole system is overturned supposing the truth were really as they imagine. For if we were to admit that such actions are inherently and absolutely pleasant, even though we judge nothing by the standard of the body, then virtue and knowledge would be things absolutely desirable, a conclusion which your leader is far from favoring. Well, these are the points about Epicurus, said I, ‘with which I have no sympathy. As for the rest, I wish he had either been better equipped with learning himself (he is surely, as you yourself must needs believe, imperfectly cultivated in those accomplishments the possessors of which are styled men of education) or that he had not frightened away others from learned pursuits; though I see that he has by no means frightened you, for one.’

VIII. After I had said this, rather from a wish to draw him out, than to make a speech myself, Triarius said with a slight smile: ‘You on your side have, I may say, banished Epicurus entirely from the company of philosophers. What concession have you made to him but that, whatever his style, you understand his meaning? In natural science his deliverances are unoriginal and in themselves such as you do not accept. Whenever he has tried to make improvements in them, they have turned out to be corruptions. He had no skill in logic. In declaring pleasure to be the supreme good, he betrayed in the first place by that very proceeding narrowness of vision; in the second, he was plagiarist once more, for Aristippus had maintained the same tenets earlier, and better too. You added in conclusion that he was uneducated as well? ‘Triarius, said I, ‘one cannot in any way avoid stating what one does not accept in the system of a philosopher with whom one disagrees, Pray what would hinder me from becoming an Epicurean if I accepted the doctrines of Epicurus? And more especially as to learn them by heart would be mere pastime. So the adverse criticisms passed on each other by men who disagree are not to be censured; it is reviling and insult, and again passionate conflicts and obstinate encounters in debate which always seem to me unworthy of philosophy.’ Then said Torquatus: ‘I am quite of your opinion ; without adverse criticism there can indeed be no debate, nor is proper debate compatible with passion or obstinacy.

But, if you do not object, I have a reply I should like to make to what you have said.’ ‘Do you imagine, I answered, ‘that I should have said what I did, were I not anxious to hear you?’ ‘Do you prefer then that we should run over the whole system of Epicurus, or should confine the inquiry to the one subject of pleasure, on which the whole dispute turns?’ ‘Well,’ said I, ‘that must be as you decide? ‘This is what I will do, then,’ said he; ‘I will expound a single topic, and that the most important; natural science I shall leave for another occasion, when certainly I will demonstrate to you not only our philosopher's doctrine of the swerving of the atoms and of the sun’s size, but will shew that very many blunders of Democritus have been criticized and set right by Epicurus. At present I shall speak concerning pleasure, though of course I have nothing new to say; still I am sure you will yourself yield to my arguments such as they are.’ ‘You may be sure, said I, ‘that I shall not be obstinate, and if you convince me of your propositions I will freely give them my assent.’ ‘I shall demonstrate them, he replied, ‘if only you exhibit that impartiality which you promise ; but I would rather deliver an uninterrupted speech than put or answer questions.’ ‘As you please, said I. Then he began to speak.

IX. ‘First, then, said he, ‘I shall plead my case on the lines laid down by the founder of our school himself: I shall define the essence and features of the. problem before us, not because I imagine you to be unacquainted with them, but with a view to the methodical progress of my speech. The problem before us then is, what is the climax and standard of things good, and this in the opinion of all philosophers must needs be such that we are bound to test all things by it, but the standard itself by nothing. Epicurus places this standard in pleasure, which he lays down to be the supreme good, while pain is the supreme evil; and he founds his proof of this on the following considerations. Every creature, as soon as it is born, seeks after pleasure and delights therein as in its supreme good, while it recoils from pain as its supreme evil, and banishes that, so far as it can, from its own presence, and this it does while still uncorrupted, and while nature herself prompts unbiased and unaffected decisions. So he says we need no reasoning or debate to shew why pleasure is matter for desire, pain for aversion. These facts he thinks are simply perceived, just as the fact that fire is hot, snow is white, and honey sweet, no one of which facts are we bound to support by elaborate arguments; it is enough merely to draw attention to the fact; and there is a difference between proof and formal argument on the one hand and a slight hint and direction of the attention on the other; the one process reveals to us mysteries and things under a veil, so to speak; the other enables us to pronounce upon patent and evident facts.

Moreover, seeing that if you deprive a man of his senses there is nothing left to him, it is inevitable that nature herself should be the arbiter of what is in accord with or opposed to nature. Now what facts does she grasp or with what facts is her decision to seek or avoid any particular thing concerned, unless the facts of pleasure and pain? There are however some of our own school, who want to state these principles with greater refinement, and who say that it is not enough to leave the question of good or evil to the decision of sense, but that thought and reasoning also enable us to understand both that pleasure in itself is matter - for desire and that pain is in itself matter for aversion. So they say that there lies in our minds a kind of natural and inbred conception leading us. to feel that the one thing is fit for us to seek, the other to reject. Others again, with whom I agree, finding that many arguments are alleged by philosophers to prove that pleasure is not to be reckoned among things good nor pain among things evil, judge that we ought not to be too confident about our case, and think that we should lead proof and argue carefully and carry on the debate about pleasure and pain by using the most elaborate reasonings.

X. But that I may make plain to you the source of all the mistakes made by those who inveigh against pleasure and eulogize pain, I will unfold the whole system and will set before you the very language held by that great discoverer of truth and that master-builder, if I may style him so, of the life of happiness. Surely no one recoils from or dislikes or avoids pleasure in itself because it is pleasure, but because great pains come upon those who do not know how to follow pleasure rationally. Nor again is there any one who loves or pursues or wishes to win pain on its own account, merely because it is pain, but rather because circumstances sometimes occur which compel him to seek some great pleasure at the cost of exertion and pain. To come down to petty details, who among us ever undertakes any toilsome bodily exercise, except in the hope of gaining some advantage from it? Who again would have any right to reproach either a man who desires to be surrounded by pleasure unaccompanied by any annoyance, or another man who shrinks from any pain which is not productive of pleasure? But in truth we do blame and deem most deserving of righteous hatred the men who, enervated and depraved by the fascination of momentary pleasures, do not foresee the pains and troubles which are sure to befall them, because they are blinded by desire, and in the same error are involved those who prove traitors to their duties through effeminacy of spirit, I mean because they shun exertions and trouble. Now it is easy and simple to mark the difference between these cases. For at our seasons of ease, when we have untrammeled freedom of choice, and when nothing debars us from the power of following the course that pleases us best, then pleasure is wholly a matter for our selection and pain for our rejection. On certain occasions however either through the inevitable call of duty or through stress of circumstances, it will often come to pass that we must put pleasures from us and must make no protest against annoyance. So in such cases the principle of selection adopted by the wise man is that he should either by ‘refusing certain pleasures attain to other and greater pleasures or by enduring pains should ward off pains still more severe. Holding as I do this theory, what reason should I have for fearing that I may not be able to bring our Torquati into accord with it? You a little while ago shewed at once your copious memory and your friendly and kindly feeling for me by quoting their examples; yet you neither perverted me by eulogizing my ancestors nor made me less vigorous in my reply. Now I ask, what interpretation do you put upon the actions of these men? Do you believe that they attacked the armed foe, or practiced such cruelty towards their own children and their own flesh and blood, absolutely without giving a thought to their own interest or their own advantage? Why, even the beasts do not act so as to produce such a tumult and confusion that we cannot see the purpose of their movements and attacks; do you believe that men so exceptional achieved such great exploits from no motive whatever?

What the motive was, I shall examine presently; meanwhile I shall maintain this, that if they per- formed those actions, which are beyond question noble, from some motive, their motive was not virtue apart from all else. He stripped the foe of his necklet. Yes, and he donned it himself to save his own life. But he faced a grave danger. Yes, with the whole army looking on. What did he gain by it ? Applause and affection, which are the strongest guarantees for passing life in freedom from fear. He punished his son with death. If purposelessly, I should be sorry to be descended from one so abominable and so cruel; but if he did it to enforce * by his self-inflicted pain the law of military command, and by fear of punishment to control the army in the midst of a most critical war, then he had in view the preservation of his fellow-countrymen, which he knew to involve his own. And these principles have a wide application. There is one field in which the eloquence of your school has been wont especially to vaunt itself, and your own eloquence in particular, for you are an eager Investigator of the past, I mean the stories of illustrious and heroic men and the applause of their actions viewed as looking not to any reward ‘but to the inherent comeliness of morality. All such arguments are upset when once the principle of choice which I have just described has been established, whereby either pleasures are neglected for the purpose of obtaining pleasures still greater, or pains are incurred for the sake of escaping still greater pains.

XI. But let what has been said on this occasion suffice concerning the brilliant and famous actions of illustrious men. We shall indeed find a fitting opportunity by and by for discoursing about the tendency of all the virtues towards pleasure. At present however I shall shew what is the essence and what are the characteristics of pleasure, so as to remove all confusion caused by ignorant people, and to make it clear how serious, how sober, how austere is that school which is esteemed to be pleasure-seeking, luxurious and effeminate. For the pleasure which we pursue is not that alone which excites the natural constitution itself by a kind of sweetness, and of which the sensual enjoyment is attended by a kind of agreeableness, but we look upon the greatest pleasure as that which is enjoyed when all pain is removed. Now inasmuch as whenever we are released from pain, we rejoice in the mere emancipation and freedom from all annoyance, and everything whereat we rejoice is equivalent to pleasure, just as everything whereat we are troubled is equivalent to pain, therefore the complete release from pain is rightly termed pleasure. For just as the mere removal of annoyance brings with it the realization of pleasure, whenever hunger and thirst have been banished by food and drink, so in every case the banishment of pain ensures its replacement by pleasure. Therefore Epicurus refused to allow that there is any middle term between pain and pleasure; what was thought by some to be a middle term, the absence of all pain, was not only itself pleasure, but the highest pleasure possible. Surely any one who is conscious of his own condition must needs be either in a state of pleasure or in a state of pain.

Epicurus thinks that the highest degree of pleasure is defined by the removal of all pain, so that pleasure may afterwards exhibit diversities and differences but is incapable of increase or extension. But actually at Athens, as my father used to tell me, when he wittily and humorously ridiculed the Stoics, there is in the Ceramicus a statue of Chrysippus, sitting with his hand extended, which hand indicates that he was fond of the following little argument: Does your hand, being in its present condition, feel the lack af anything at all? Certainly of nothing. But if pleasure were the supreme good, it would feel a lack. I agree. Pleasure then is not the supreme good. - My father used to say that even a statue would not talk in that way, if it had power of speech. The inference is shrewd enough as against the Cyrenaics, but does not touch Epicurus. For if the only pleasure were that which, as it were, tickles the senses, if I may say so, and attended by sweetness overflows them and insinuates itself into them, neither the hand nor any other member would be able to rest satisfied with the absence of pain apart from a joyous activity of pleasure. But if it is the highest pleasure, as Epicurus believes, to be in no pain, then the first admission, that the hand in its then existing condition felt no lack, was properly made to you, Chrysippus, but the second improperly, I mean that it would have felt a lack had pleasure been the supreme good. It would certainly feel no lack, and on this ground, that anything which is cut off from the state of pain is in the state of pleasure.

XII. Again, the truth that pleasure is the supreme good can be most easily apprehended from the following consideration. Let us imagine an individual in the enjoyment of pleasures great, numerous and constant, both mental and bodily, with no pain to thwart or threaten them; I ask what circumstances can we describe as more excellent than these or more desirable? A man whose circumstances are such must needs possess, as well as other things, a robust mind subject to no fear of death or pain, because death is apart from sensation, and pain when lasting is usually slight, when oppressive is of short duration, so that its temporariness reconciles us to its intensity, and its slightness to its continuance. When in addition we suppose that such a man is in no awe of the influence of the gods, and does not allow his past pleasures to slip away, but takes delight in constantly recalling them, what circumstance is it possible to add to these, to make his condition better? Imagine on the other hand a man worn by the greatest mental and bodily pains which can befall a human being, with no hope before him that his lot will ever be lighter, and moreover destitute of pleasure either actual or probable; what more pitiable object can be mentioned or imagined? But if a life replete with pains is above all things to be shunned, then assuredly the supreme evil is life accompanied by pain; and from this view it is a consistent inference that the climax of things good is life accompanied by pleasure. Nor indeed can our mind find any other ground whereon to take its stand as though already at the goal; and all its fears and sorrows are comprised under the term pain, nor is there any other thing besides which is able merely by its own character to cause us vexation or pangs. In addition to this the germs of desire and aversion and generally of action originate either in pleasure or in pain.

This being so, it is plain that all right and praiseworthy action has the life of pleasure for its aim. Now inasmuch as the climax or goal or limit of things good (which the Greeks term réàos) is that object which is not a means to the attainment of anything else, while all other things are a means to its attainment, we must allow that the climax of things good is to live agreeably. XIII. Those who find this good in virtue and virtue only, and dazzled by the glory of her name, fail to perceive what it is that nature craves, will be emancipated from heresy of the deepest dye, if they will deign to lend ear to Epicurus. For unless your grand and beautiful virtues were productive of pleasure, who would suppose them to be either meritorious or desirable? Yes, just as we regard with favor the physician’s skill not for his art's sake merely but because we prize sound health, and just as the pilot’s art is praised on utilitarian and not on artistic grounds, because it supplies the principles of good navigation, so wisdom, which we must hold to be the art of living, would be no object of desire, if it were productive of no advantage; but it is in fact desired, because it is to us as an architect that plans and accomplishes pleasure. (You are now aware what kind of pleasure I mean, so the odium of the term must not shake the foundation of my argument.) For seeing that the life of men is most of all troubled by ignorance about the goodness and badness of things, and on account of this blindness men are often robbed of the intensest pleasures and also are racked by the severest mental pains, we must summon to our aid wisdom, that she may remove from us all alarms and passions, and stripping us of our heedless confidence in all false imaginations, may offer herself as our surest guide to pleasure. Wisdom indeed is alone able to drive sadness from our minds, and to prevent us from quaking with fear, and if we sit at her feet we may live in perfect calm, when once the heat of every passion has been cooled.

Verily the passions are unconscionable, and overthrow not merely individual men, but whole families, and often shake the foundations of the entire commonwealth. From passions spring enmities, divisions, strifes, rebellions and wars. Nor do the passions only air their pride abroad; they do not merely attack others than ourselves in their blind onset; but even when imprisoned within our own breasts they are at variance and strife one with another; and the inevitable result of this is life of the bitterest kind, so that the wise man alone, who has cut back and pruned away all vanity and delusion, can live contentedly within the bounds prescribed by nature, emancipated from all sorrow and from all fear. I ask what classification is either more profitable or more suited to the life of happiness than that adopted by Epicurus? He affirmed that there is one class of passions which are both natural and needful; another class which are natural with- out being needful; a third class which are neither natural nor needful; and such are the conditions of these passions that the needful class are satisfied without much trouble or expenditure ; nor is it much that the natural passions crave, since nature herself makes such wealth as will satisfy her both easy of access and moderate in amount; and it is not possible to discover any boundary or limit to false passions.

XIV. But if we see that all human life is agitated by con- fusion and ignorance, and that wisdom alone can redeem us from the violence of our lusts and from the menace of our fears, and alone can teach us to endure humbly even the outrages of fortune, and alone can guide us into every path which leads to peace and calm, why should we hesitate to say that wisdom is desirable in view of pleasures, and unwisdom to be shunned on account of annoyances? And on the same principles we shall assert that even temperance is not desirable for its own sake, but because it brings quiet to our hearts and soothes them and appeases them by a kind of harmony. Temperance is in truth the virtue which warns us to follow reason in dealing with the objects of desire or repugnance. Nor indeed is it enough to resolve what we are to do or omit, but we should also abide by our resolve. Most men, however, being unable to uphold and maintain a determination they have themselves made, are overmastered and enervated when the image of pleasure is thrust before their eyes, and surrender them- selves to be bound by the chain of their lusts, nor do they foresee what the issue will be, and so for the sake of some paltry and needless pleasure, which would be procured by other means if they chose, and with which they might dispense and yet not suffer pain, rush sometimes into grievous diseases, sometimes into ruin, sometimes into disgrace, and often even become subject to the penalties imposed by the statutes and the courts. Men however whose aim is so to enjoy their pleasures that no pains may ensue in consequence of them, and who retain their own judgment, which prevents them from succumbing to pleasure and doing things which they feel should not be done, these achieve the greatest amount of pleasure by neglecting pleasure. Such men actually often suffer pain, fearing that, if they’ do not, they may incur greater pain. From these reflections it is easily understood that intemperance on the one hand is not repugnant in and for itself, and on the other that temperance is an object of desire, not because it flees from pleasures, but because it is followed by greater pleasures.

XV. The same principles will be found to apply to courage ; for neither the performance of work nor the suffering of pain is in itself attractive, nor yet endurance, nor diligence, nor watchings nor much-praised industry itself, no, nor courage either, but we devote ourselves to all such things for the purpose of passing our life in freedom from anxiety and alarm, and of emancipating both mind and body, so far as we can succeed in doing so, from annoyance. As in truth, on the one hand, the entire stability of a peaceful life is shaken by the fear of death, and it is wretched to succumb to pains and to bear them in an abject and feeble spirit, and many have through such weakness of mind brought ruin on their parents, many on their friends and some on their country, so on the other hand a strong and exalted spirit is free from all solicitude and torment, as it thinks lightly of death, which brings those who are subject to it into the same state they were in before they were born, and such a spirit is so disciplined to encounter pains that it recalls how the most severe of them are terminated by death, while the slighter grant many seasons of rest, and those which lie between these two classes are under our control, so that if we find them endurable, we may tolerate them, if otherwise, we may with an unruffled mind make our exit from life, when we find it disagreeable, as we would from a theatre. These facts enable us to see that cowardice and weakness are not blamed, nor courage and endurance applauded, for what they are in themselves, but that the former qualities are spurned, because productive of pain, while the latter are sought, because productive of pleasure.

XVI. Justice still is left to complete our statement concern- ing the whole of virtue, but considerations nearly similar may be urged. Just as I have proved wisdom, temperance and courage to be linked with pleasure, so-that they cannot possibly by any means be sundered or severed from it, so we must deem of justice, which not only never injures any person, but on the contrary always produces some benefit, not solely by reason of its own power and constitution, whereby it calms our minds, but also by inspiring hope that we shall lack none of the objects which nature when uncorrupted craves. And as recklessness and caprice and cowardice always torture the mind and always bring unrest and tumult, so if wickedness has established itself in a man’s mind, the mere fact of its presence causes tumult; if moreover it has carried out any deed, however secretly it may have acted, yet it will never feel a trust that the action will always remain concealed. In most cases the acts of wicked men are at first dogged by suspicion, then by talk and rumor, then by the prosecutor, then by the judge; many have actually informed against themselves, as in your own consulship. But if there are any who seem to themselves to be sufficiently barri- caded and fortified against all privity on the part of their fellow men, still they tremble before the privity of the gods, and imagine that the very cares by which their minds are devoured night and day are imposed upon them, with a view to their punishment, by the eternal gods. Again, from wicked acts what new influence can accrue tending to the diminution of annoyances, equal to that which tends to their increase, not only from consciousness of the actions themselves, but also from legal penalties and the hatred of the community? And yet some men exhibit no moderation in money-making, or office, or military command, or wantonness, or gluttony, or the remaining passions, which are not lessened but rather intensified by the trophies of wickedness, so that such persons seem fit to be repressed rather than to be taught their error.

True reason beckons men of properly sound mind to pursue justice, fairness and honour; nor are acts of injustice advantageous to a man without eloquence or influence, who cannot easily succeed in what he attempts, nor maintain his success if he wins it, and large resources either of wealth or of talent suit better with a generous spirit, for those who exhibit this spirit attract to themselves goodwill and affection, which s very well calculated to ensure a peaceful life; and this is the truer in that men have no reason for sinning. For the passions which proceed from nature are easily satisfied without committing any wrong; while we must not succumb to those which are groundless, since they yearn for nothing worthy of our craving, and more loss is involved in the mere fact of wrong doing, than profit in the results which are produced by the wrong doing. So one would not be right in describing even justice as a thing to be wished for on its own account, but rather because it brings with it a very large amount of agreeableness. For to be the object of esteem and affection is agreeable just because it renders life safer and more replete with pleasures. Therefore we think that wickedness should be shunned, not alone on account of the disadvantages which fall to the lot of the wicked, but much rather because when it pervades a man’s soul it never permits him to breathe freely or to rest. Butif the encomium passed even on the virtues themselves, over which the eloquence of all other philosophers especially runs riot, can find no vent unless it be referred to pleasure, and pleasure is the only thing which invites us to the pursuit of itself, and attracts us by reason of its own nature, then there can be no doubt that of all things good it is the supreme and ultimate good, and that a life of happiness means nothing else but a life attended by pleasure.

XVII. I will concisely explain what are the corollaries of these sure and well grounded opinions. People make no mis- take about the standards of good and evil themselves, that is about pleasure or pain, but err in these matters through ignorance of the means by which these results are to be brought about. Now we admit that mental pleasures and pains spring from bodily pleasures and pains; so I allow what you alleged just now, that any of our school who differ from this opinion are out of court; and indeed I see there are many such, but unskilled thinkers.

I grant that although mental pleasure brings us joy and mental pain brings us trouble, yet each feeling takes its rise in the body and is dependent on the body, though it does not follow that the pleasures and pains of the mind do not greatly surpass those of the body. With the body indeed we can perceive only what is present to us at the moment, but with the mind the past and future also. For granting that we feel just as great pain when our body is in pain, still mental pain may be very greatly intensified if we imagine some everlasting and unbounded evil to be menacing us. And we may apply the same argument to pleasure, so that it is increased by the absence of such fears. By this time so much at least is plain, that the intensest pleasure or the intensest annoyance felt in the mind exerts more influence on the happiness or wretchedness of life than either feeling, when present for an equal space of time in the body. We refuse to believe, however, that when pleasure is . removed, grief instantly ensues, excepting when perchance pain has taken the place of the pleasure; but we think on the contrary that we experience joy on the passing away of pains, even though none of that kind of pleasure which stirs the senses has taken their place; and from this it may be understood how great a pleasure it is to be without pain. But as we are elated by the blessings to which we look forward, so we delight in those which we call to memory.

Fools however are tormented by the recollection of misfortunes; wise men rejoice in keeping fresh the thankful recollection of their past blessings. Now it is in the power of our wills to bury our adversity in almost unbroken forgetfulness, and to agreeably and sweetly remind ourselves of our prosperity. But when we look with penetration and concentration of thought upon things that are past, then, if those things are bad, grief usually ensues, if good, joy.

XVIII. What a noble and open and plain and straight avenue to a happy life! It being certain that nothing can be better for man than to be relieved of all pain and annoyance, and to have full enjoyment of the greatest pleasures both of mind and of body, do you not see how nothing is neglected which assists our life more easily to attain that which is its aim, the supreme good? Epicurus, the man whom you charge with being an extravagant devotee of pleasures, cries aloud that no one can live agreeably unless he lives a wise, moral and righteous life, and that no one can live a wise, moral and righteous life without living agreeably. It is not possible for a community to be happy when there is rebellion, nor for a house when its masters are at strife; much less can a mind at disaccord and at strife with itself taste any portion of pleasure undefiled and unimpeded. Nay more, if the mind is always beset by desires and designs which are recalcitrant and irreconcilable, it can never see a moment’s rest or a moment’s peace. But if agreeableness of life is thwarted by the more serious bodily diseases, how much more must it inevitably be thwarted by the diseases of the mind! Now the diseases of the mind are the measureless and false passions for riches, fame, power and even for the lustful pleasures.

To these are added griefs, troubles, sorrows, which devour the mind and wear it away with anxiety, because men do not comprehend that no pain should be felt in the mind, which is unconnected with an immediate or impending bodily pain. Nor indeed is there among fools any one who is not sick with some one of these diseases; there is none therefore who is not wretched. There is also death which always hangs over them like the stone over Tantalus, and again superstition, which prevents those who are tinged by it from ever being able to rest. Moreover they have no memories for their past good fortune, and no enjoyment of their present ; they only wait for what is to come, and as this cannot but be uncertain, they are wasted with anguish and alarm; and they are tortured most of all when they become conscious, all too late, that their devotion to wealth or military power, or influence, or fame has been entirely in vain. For they achieve none of the pleasures which they ardently hoped to obtain and so underwent numerous and severe exertions. Turn again to another class of men, trivial and pusillanimous, either always in despair about everything, or ill-willed, spiteful, morose, misanthropic, slanderous, unnatural; others again are slaves to the frivolities of the lover ; others are aggressive, others reckless or impudent, while these same men are uncontrolled and inert, never persevering in their opinion, and for these reasons there never is in their life any intermission of annoyance. `. Therefore neither can any fool be happy, nor any wise man fail to be happy. And we advocate these views far better and with much greater truth than do the Stoics, since they declare that nothing good exists excepting that vague phantom which they call morality, a title imposing rather than real; and that virtue being founded on this morality demands no pleasure and is satisfied with her own resources for the attainment of happiness.

XIX. But these doctrines may be stated in a certain manner so as not merely to disarm our criticism, but actually to secure our sanction. For this is the way in which Epicurus represents the wise man as continually happy; he keeps his passions within bounds; about death he is indifferent; he holds true views concerning the eternal gods apart from all dread; he has no hesitation in crossing the boundary of life, if that be the better course. Furnished with these advantages he is continually in a state of pleasure, and there is in truth no moment at which he does not experience more pleasures than pains. For he remembers the past with thankfulness, and the present is so much his own that he is aware of its importance and its agreeableness, nor is he in dependence on the future, but awaits it while enjoying the present; he is also very far removed from those defects ef character which I quoted a little time ago, -and when he compares the fool’s life with his own, he feels great pleasure. And pains, if any befall him, have never power enough to prevent the wise man from finding more reasons for joy than for vexation. It was indeed excellently said by Epicurus that fortune only in a small degree crosses the wise man’s path, and that his greatest and most important undertakings are executed in accordance with his own design and his own principles, and that no greater pleasure can be reaped from a life which is without end in time, than is reaped from this which we know to have its allotted end.

He judged that the logic of your school possesses no efficacy either for the amelioration of life or for the facilitation of debate. He laid the greatest stress on natural science. That branch of knowledge enables us to realize clearly the force of words and the natural conditions of speech and the theory of consistent and contradictory expressions; and when we have learned the constitution of the universe we are relieved of superstition, are emancipated from the dread of death, are not agitated through ignorance of phenomena, from which ignorance, more than anything else, terrible panics often arise; finally, our characters will also be improved when we have learned what it is that nature craves. Then again if we grasp a firm knowledge of phenomena, and uphold that canon, which almost fell from heaven into human ken, that test to which we are to bring all our judgments concerning things, we shall never succumb to any man’s eloquence and abandon our opinions. Moreover, un- less the constitution of the world is thoroughly understood, we shall by no means be able to justify the verdicts of our ` senses. Further, our mental perceptions all arise from our sensations; and if these are all to be true, as the system of Epicurus proves to us, then only will cognition and perception become possible. Now those who invalidate sensations and say that perception is altogether impossible, cannot even clear the way for this very argument of theirs when they have thrust the senses aside. Moreover, when cognition and knowledge have been invalidated, every principle concerning the conduct of life and the performance of its business becomes in- validated. So from natural science we borrow courage to withstand the fear of death, and firmness to face superstitious dread, and tranquility of mind, through the removal of ignorance concerning the mysteries of the world, and self-control, arising from the elucidation of the nature of the passions and their different classes, and as I shewed just now, our leader again has established the canon and criterion of knowledge and thus has imparted to us a method for marking off falsehood from truth.

XX. One topic remains, which is of prime importance for this discussion, that relating to friendship, which you declare will cease to exist, if pleasure be the supreme good, yet Epicurus makes this declaration concerning it, that of all the aids to happiness procured for us by wisdom, none is greater than friendship, none more fruitful, none more delightful. Nor in fact did he sanction this view by his language alone, but much more by his life and actions and character. And the greatness of friendship is made evident by the imaginary stories of the ancients, in which, numerous and diversified as they are, and reaching back to extreme antiquity, scarce three pairs of friends are mentioned, so that beginning with Theseus you end with Orestes. But in truth within the limits of a single school, and that restricted in numbers, what great flocks of friends did Epicurus secure, and how great was that harmony of affection wherein they all agreed! And his example is followed by the Epicureans in our day also. But let us return to our theme; there is no need to speak of persons. I see then that friendship has been discussed by our school in three ways. Some, denying that the pleasures which affect our friends are in themselves as desirable to us as those we desire for ourselves, a view which certain persons think shakes the foundation of friendship, still defend their position, and in my opinion easily escape from their difficulties. For they affirm that friendship, like the virtues of which we spoke already, cannot be dissociated from pleasure. Now since isolation and a life without friends abound in treacheries and alarms, reason herself advises us to procure friendships, by the acquisition of which the spirit is strengthened, and cannot then be severed from the hope of achieving pleasures. And as enmity, spitefulness, scorn, are opposed to pleasures, so friendships are not only the truest promoters, but are actually efficient causes of pleasures, as well to a man’s friends as to himself; and friends not only have the immediate enjoyment of these pleasures but are elate with hope as regards future and later times. Now because we can by no means apart from friendship preserve the agreeable- ness of life strong and unbroken, nor further can we maintain friendship itself unless we esteem our friends in the same degree as ourselves; on that account this principle is acted on in friend- ship, and so friendship is linked with pleasure. Truly we both rejoice at the joy of our friends as much as at our own joy, and we are equally pained by their vexations.

Therefore the wise man will entertain the same feeling for his friend as for himself, and the very same efforts which he would undergo to procure his own pleasure, these he will undergo to procure that of his friend. And all that we said of the virtues to shew how they always have their root in pleasures, must be said over again about friendship. For it was nobly declared by Epicurus, almost in these words: It is one and the same feeling which strengthens the mind against the fear of eternal or lasting evil, and which clearly sees that in this actual span of life the protection afforded by friendship is the most powerful of all. There are however certain Epicureans who are somewhat more nervous in facing the reproaches of your school, but are still shrewd enough; these are afraid that if we suppose friendship to be desirable with a view to our own pleasure, friendship may appear to be altogether maimed, as it were.

So they say that while the earliest meetings and associations and tendencies towards the establishment of familiarity do arise on account of pleasure, yet when experience has gradually produced intimacy, then affection ripens to such a degree that though no interest be served by the friendship, yet friends are loved in themselves and for their own sake. Again, if by familiarity we get to love localities, shrines, cities, the exercise ground, the park, dogs, horses, and exhibitions either of gymnastics or of combats with beasts, how much more easily and properly may this come about when our familiarity is with human beings? Men are found to say that there is a certain treaty of alliance which binds wise men not to esteem their friends less than they do themselves. Such alliance we not only understand to be possible, but often see it realized, and it is plain that nothing can be found more conducive to pleasantness of life than union of this kind. From all these different views we may conclude that not only are the principles of friendship left unconstrained, if the supreme good be made to reside in pleasure, but that without this view it is entirely impossible to discover a basis for friendship.

XXI. Wherefore, if the doctrines I have stated are more dazzling and luminous than the sun itself, if they are draughts drawn from nature’s spring, if our whole argument establishes its credit entirely by an appeal to our senses, that is to say, to witnesses who are untainted and unblemished, if speechless babes and even dumb beasts almost cry out that with nature for our governor and guide there is no good fortune but pleasure, no adverse fortune but pain, and their verdict upon these matters is neither perverted nor tainted, are we not bound to entertain the greatest gratitude for the man who lending his ear to this voice of nature, as I may call it, grasped it in so strong and serious a spirit that he guided all thoroughly sober-minded men into the track of a peaceful, quiet, restful, happy life? And though you think him ill-educated, the reason is that he held no education of any worth, but such as promoted the ordered life of happiness. Was he the man to spend his time in conning poets as I and Triarius do on your advice, when they afford no substantial benefit, and all the enjoyment they give is childish in kind, or was he the man to waste himself, like Plato, upon music, geometry, mathematics and astronomy, which not only start from false assumptions and so cannot be true, but if they were true would not aid us one whit towards living a more agreeable, that is a better life; was he, I ask, the man to pursue those arts and thrust behind him the art of living, an art of such moment, so laborious too, and correspondingly rich in fruit? Epicurus then is not uneducated, but those persons are uninstructed who think that subjects which it is disgraceful to a boy not to have learned, are to be learned through life into old age. When he had thus spoken, he said, ‘I have expounded my own tenets and just with this purpose, that I might make acquaintance with your opinion, as this is an opportunity for doing so to my satisfaction, which has never been offered me till now.

END OF BOOK I.

2. BOOK II - Against the Epicureans

I. AT this point, finding that both were looking towards me and making signs that they were ready to listen, I began : ‘In the first place I entreat you not to suppose that I am going to expound to you some thesis after the fashion of a philosopher, for that is a practice which, even when adopted by the philosophers themselves, I have never much liked. When, I ask, did Socrates, who may as of right be entitled the father of philosophy, proceed in any such manner? It was a custom distinctive of those who in his day were styled sophists; and Gorgias of Leontini was the first of their number who ventured in a meeting to demand a theme, I mean to request some one to propose a subject on which he desired to hear a lecture. A bold undertaking; I should call it shameless, but that the plan afterwards became the property of my own school of philosophy.

Still, as can be seen from Plato’s writings, we find that the sophist I just named and the rest too were made ridiculous by Socrates. He by probing and questioning used to bring out the ideas of those with whom he conversed, so that he might criticize their answers if he thought fit. This custom was not observed by his successors, but Arcesilas revived it, and such persons as desired to listen to him he taught not to put questions to him but themselves to declare their thoughts, and when they had done so, he replied. But his audience maintained their own views so far as they could; in the other schools of philosophy, he who has once proposed a question holds his peace; as indeed is now usual even in the Academy. For when he who desires to be instructed has said, I hold pleasure to be the supreme good, then the discussion on the opposite side consists of a continuous speech, so that it may easily be under- stood that the men who declare themselves to hold some view are not personally of that opinion, but desire to hear the opposite side. We proceed in a more convenient way; Torquatus has not only told us what he thinks, but also why he thinks it. But, though I was exceedingly pleased with the continuous speech he made, yet I imagine it to be a more convenient method, by pausing at each step, and understanding what concessions each is prepared to make and what he refuses to make, to draw from the admissions the inferences we desire, and so arrive at a conclusion. For when a speech sweeps on- ward like a flood, although it carries along with it many things of every kind, still you would never seize on or grasp any statement, or restrain at any point the swift course of the speech. Now in investigations any discourse which is in some sense methodically and rationally conducted is bound at the outset to lay down what we find in certain legal forms: This shall be the point at issue; so that the disputants may be agreed what the matter in dispute is.

II. To this rule, as laid down by Plato in the Phaedrus, Epicurus gave his sanction, and declared that this proceeding should be ob- served in every debate. But the next step he did not see; for he pronounces against any definition of a subject being given, though, without such, it is impossible sometimes to secure an understanding concerning the nature of the point at issue between those who take part in the discussion; as for instance in the case of the very matter we are now debating. Our inquiry touches the ultimate good; can we learn what its nature is, without agreeing among ourselves, when we use the phrase ultimate good, what we mean by ultimate and what also we mean by good itself? But this disclosure of matters which were, so to say, veiled, by which we reveal the essence of each thing, its definition; and you actually adopted it occasionally unawares; for instance you defined this very ultimate or final or supreme good to be that standard whereby all right actions are judged, which is itself judged by no standard anywhere.

Excellent, so far. Perhaps if you had had occasion, you would have defined the good itself as the object of natural desire, or that which is beneficial, or that which is pleasing, or that which strikes the fancy merely. Now too, if you have no objection, as you do not altogether reject definition, and practice it when you please, I should like you to define what pleasure is, for our whole inquiry deals with that.’ ‘Pray,’ said he, ‘who is there that does not know what pleasure is, or requires some definition to make it plainer?’ ‘I should proclaim myself to be such a person,’ said I, ‘but that I believe myself to have a thorough notion of pleasure, and a quite stable idea and conception of it in my mind. As it is, however, I allege that Epicurus himself is in the dark about it and uncertain in his idea of it, and that the very man who often asserts that the meaning which our terms denote ought to be accurately represented, sometimes does not see what this term pleasure indicates, I mean what the thing is which is denoted by the term.’

III. Then he said with a smile, ‘this is truly an excellent thought, that he who declares pleasure to be supreme among objects of desire, and the final and ultimate good, knows no- thing of the essence and attributes of the thing itself!’ ‘Nay, said I, ‘either Epicurus is ignorant or else all human beings who are to be found anywhere are ignorant what pleasure is.’ ‘How so?’ he said. ‘Because all pronounce that thing to be pleasure, by the reception of which sense is excited and is pervaded by a certain agreeable feeling.’ ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘is Epicurus unfamiliar with this kind of pleasure?’

‘Not always, I replied, ‘for he is now and then too familiar with it, since he avers that he cannot even understand where any good exists, or what is its nature, unless such good as is experienced from food and drink and the gratification of the ears and from impure pleasures. Is this not in fact what he says?’ ‘As if, said he, ‘I were ashamed of the words you quote, or unable to explain in what sense they are used!’ ‘I assure you,’ said I, ‘I do not question your ability to do that easily, nor have you any cause to be ashamed of repeating things said by a wise man, who is the only one, so far as I know, that ever ventured to announce himself as a wise man. I do not suppose that Metrodorus announced himself as such, but rather that when Epicurus gave him the title, he did not like to thrust from him so great a favor. The well-known seven again obtained the title not by their own vote, but by that of all nations. However, I take it for granted at this point that when he holds such language _Epicurus certainly understands the word pleasure to bear the same sense that the rest of the world give it. All men in fact describe by the term ἡδονὴ in Greek and the term voluptas in Latin an agreeable excitement by which the sense is cheered.’

‘Then,’ said he, ‘what else should you want?’ ‘I will tell you, said I, ‘and that rather in the hope of being instructed, than from a desire to find fault with you or Epicurus.’ ‘I too, he replied, ‘would be better pleased to learn anything you have to bring forward, than to find fault with you.’ ‘Do you understand, then, I continued, ‘ what Hieronymus of Rhodes declares to be the supreme good, by the standard of which he thinks all things should be judged?’ ‘I understand,’ he answered, ‘that he holds freedom from pain to be the final good. ‘Well, I asked, ‘what view does this same philosopher hold of pleasure?’ ‘He asserts, said he, ‘that it is not essentially an object of desire.” ‘So he is of opinion that joy is one thing, absence of pain another.’ ‘Yes,’ was the answer, ‘and he is grossly mistaken, for, as I proved a little while ago, the limit to the increase of pleasure consists in the removal of all pain.’ ‘I shall examine afterwards, I said, ‘what is the sense of your expression absence of pain, but that pleasure means one thing, absence of pain another, you must grant me, unless you prove very obstinate.’ ‘Oh but,’ said he, ‘you will find me obstinate in this matter, for no doctrine can be more truly stated.’ ‘Pray,’ said I, ‘does a man when thirsty find pleasure in drinking?’ ‘Who could say no to that?’ he answered. ‘The same pleasure that he feels when the thirst has been quenched?’ ‘No, a pleasure different in kind. For the quenching of the thirst brings with it a steady pleasure, whereas the pleasure which accompanies the process of quenching itself consists in agitation. ‘Why then,’ said I, ‘do you describe two things so different by the same name ?’ ‘Do you not recollect, he answered, ‘what I said a little while since, that when once all pain has been removed pleasure admits of varieties but not of increase?’ ‘I do indeed remember,’ said I, ‘but though your statement is in good Latin, it is far from clear. For variety is a Latin word, and is in its strict sense applied to differences of color, but is metaphorically used to denote many differences; we speak of a varied poem, varied speech, varied manners, varied fortune, pleasure too is usually called varied when it is derived from many unlike objects which produce pleasures that are unlike. If you intended this by the term variety, I should understand it, as indeed I do understand the word when you are not the speaker; I am far from clear what the variety is of which you speak, when you say that we experience the highest pleasure as often as we are without pain, when however we are eating things which rouse a pleasurable agitation in our senses, then the pleasure consists in the agitation, which produces a variety in our pleasures, but that the pleasure felt in absence of pain is not thereby in- creased; and why you should call that feeling pleasure, I cannot understand.’

IV. ‘Can then,’ my friend said, ‘anything be sweeter than to feel no pain?’ ‘Nay, I said, ‘be it granted that there is nothing better, for I am not yet investigating that question; does it therefore follow that painlessness, so to call it, is identical with pleasure?’ ‘It is quite identical, and is the greatest possible, and no pleasure can be greater. ‘Why then, I answered, ‘when once you have so defined your supreme good as to make it consist entirely in absence of pain, do you shrink from embracing, maintaining, and championing this exclusively? I ask what need there is for you to introduce pleasure into the assembly of the virtues, like some harlot into a company of matrons? The name of pleasure is odious, disreputable, open to suspicion. So you are in the habit of telling us this, very often, that we do not understand what kind of pleasure Epicurus means. Now whenever I have been told this (and I have been told it not unfrequently) I have the habit of getting now and then a little angry, though I usually bear myself with tolerable calmness in discussion. Do I not understand what ἡδονὴ means in Greek and voluptas in Latin? Which, pray, of the two languages is it that I do not know?

Next, how comes it that I do not know this, though all those are aware of it, whoever they be, that have chosen to become Epicureans? And this is a point argued by your school most admirably, that a man who is to become a philosopher has no need to be acquainted with literature. Thus just as our ancestors brought old Cincinnatus from his plough to make him dictator, so you gather from every village men who are indeed worthies, but surely not very well educated. They then understand what Epicurus means, and I do not? To let you know that I do understand, I first declare that by voluptas I mean what he means by ἡδονὴ. Now though we often search for a Latin word equivalent to a Greek word and conveying the same sense, in this case there was no need to search. No word can possibly be discovered which more exactly represents in Latin the sense of a Greek word than voluptas. All men everywhere who know Latin denote by this word two things, delight existing in the mind and a sweet agreeable agitation in the body. In fact the character in Trabea’s play describes delight as excessive pleasure in the mind, just like the character in Caecilius, who gives out that he is delighted with all delights. But there is this distinction, that voluptas is applied also to the mind (an immoral feeling, as the Stoics think, who define it as an irrational elevation of the mind when it fancies itself in the enjoyment of some great blessing) while laetitia and gaudium are not used in connection with the body. But according to the usage of all who speak Latin, pleasure consists in feeling that kind of agreeableness which agitates some one of the senses. This agreeableness too you may apply metaphorically if you please to the mind; for we use the phrase to affect agreeably in both cases, and in connection with it the word agreeable; if only you understand that midway between the man who says I am enriched with such delight that I am unsteadied and the man who cries Now at last is my heart on fire, one of whom is transported with delight, while the other is racked by pain, comes this man’s speech Though this our acquaintance is quite recent, for he is neither in a state of delight nor of torture; and also that between him who is master of exquisite bodily pleasures and him who is tormented by the intensest pains comes he who is removed from both states.

V. Do you think then that I sufficiently grasp the force of expressions, or am I even at my age to be taught to speak either Greek or Latin? And, putting that aside, even granting that I do not clearly comprehend what Epicurus means, though I have, I believe, a clear knowledge of Greek, look to it that there be not some fault in him who uses such language that he is not understood. This happens in two ways without reproof, when it is done intentionally, as by Heraclitus, who is styled by the surname σκοτεινός, because he talked about physical science an very dark language, or when the darkness of the subject-matter, not the language, makes the style difficult to understand, as is the case with the Timaeus of Plato. But Epicurus, I imagine, neither lacks the desire to express himself lucidly and plainly, if he can, nor deals with dark subjects, as do the physical writers, nor with technical matters, like the mathematicians, but speaks on a doctrine which is perspicuous and easy and which has already spread itself abroad. Still you do not declare that we fail to understand what pleasure is, but what he says of it, whence it results not that we fail to under- stand the force of the word in question, but that he speaks after a fashion of his own and gives no heed to ours. If indeed his statement is identical with that of Hieronymus, who pronounces that supreme good consists in a life apart from all annoyance, why does he prefer to talk of pleasure rather than of freedom from pain, as Hieronymus does, who well understands what he is describing? And if he thinks he must add to this the pleasure which depends on agitation (for he thus speaks of this sweet kind of pleasure, as consisting in agitation, and of the other, felt by a man free from pain, as consisting in steadiness) why does he fight? He cannot bring it about that any man who knows him- self, I mean who has thoroughly examined his own constitution and his own senses, should think that freedom from pain is one and the same thing with pleasure. It is as good as doing violence to the senses, Torquatus, to uproot from our minds those notions of words which are ingrained in us. Why, who can fail to see that there are, in the nature of things, these three states, one when we are in pleasure, another when we are in pain, the third, the state in which I am now, and I suppose you too, when we are neither in pain nor in pleasure; thus he who is feasting is in pleasure, while he who is on the rack is in pain. But do you not see that between these extremes lies a great crowd of men who feel neither delight nor sorrow?’ ‘Not at all” said he; ‘and I affirm that all who are without pain are in pleasure and that the fullest possible.’ ‘Therefore he who, not thirsty himself, mixes mead for another, and he who, being thirsty, drinks the mead, are in just the same state of pleasure?’

VI. Then he replied: ‘Make an end of questioning if you please; and I said at the outset that I preferred to have it so, foreseeing just what has come about, I mean logical quibbles.’ ‘Then, said I, ‘would you rather that we debated in rhetorical than in logical style?’ ‘You speak,’ he answered, ‘as though continuous speech belonged to rhetoricians only and not to philosophers also.’ ‘This,’ I replied, ‘is: what Zeno the Stoic says; that all power of speech has two divisions (so it seemed to Aristotle before him); rhetoric he declared to resemble the open hand, logic the closed fist, because rhetoricians speak in a more extended, and logicians in a more condensed style. I will therefore bow to your wish, and will speak in the rhetorical manner if I can, but using the rhetoric of philosophers, not our rhetoric of the forum, which must needs be sometimes a little more obtuse, because it talks to catch the mob. But while Epicurus disregards logic, Torquatus, which is the sole foundation of all skill both in discovering the essence of every object and in determining its qualities, and also in conducting discussion reasonably and methodically, he makes shipwreck, in my opinion, of his exposition, and uses no art to define the matters he desires to demonstrate, as in the very instance of which we were even now talking.

You declare pleasure to be the supreme good. You have therefore to unfold the nature of pleasure; for otherwise the object of the inquiry cannot be made clear. And if he had made it clear, he would not be in such difficulties; he would either defend the kind of pleasure adopted by Aristippus, to wit, that whereby sense is sweetly and agreeably agitated, which even beasts would call pleasure if they had power to talk, or else, if he decided to speak after a fashion of his own rather than as all men of Argos and Mycenae, and the Attic youth to boot, and the rest of the Greeks who are summoned in these anapaestic lines, he would describe this absence of pain alone by the term pleasure, and would disregard the pleasure of Aristippus, or again, if he accepted both kinds, as he does, he would combine freedom from pain with pleasure, and adopt two kinds of ultimate good. Indeed many great philosophers have thus invented complex views of ultimate good; for example, Aristotle combined the practice of virtue with the good fortune of a life complete in itself; Callipho attached pleasure to morality; Diodorus added to morality again freedom from pain. Epicurus would have acted in the same way, if he had combined the view, which is now the property of Hieronymus, with the old view of Aristippus.

These two philosophers are at variance, therefore each adopts his own view of the ethical standard; and as both use excellent Greek, neither Aristippus, who affirms pleasure to be the supreme good, makes absence of pain a part of pleasure, nor does Hieronymus, who lays down that the supreme good is absence of pain, ever use the term pleasure to denote such painlessness, since he does not reckon pleasure as even having a place among objects of desire.

VII. Lest you should suppose that the words only differ, I say that the things denoted are also two. Freedom from pain is one thing, possession of pleasure another; you attempt not merely to compound out of these two things, diverse as they are, one single term (for I should find that easier to endure) but to roll the two things into one, which cannot possibly be done. Your philosopher, who approves both things, was bound formally to adopt both, as he does in fact, without distinguishing them in words. For when in numerous passages he eulogizes that very kind of pleasure, which all men call by the same name, he makes bold to say that he cannot even imagine any form of good unconnected with that kind of pleasure which Aristippus approves; and he makes this declaration in passages where his whole language refers to the supreme good. But in another book, in which, by putting briefly his most weighty maxims, he is said to have published the oracles, as it were, of wisdom, he writes in these terms, which of course are familiar to you, Torquatus; who indeed of your school has not got by heart the κυρία δόξα, that is, maxims tersely expressed, the most authoritative, so to speak, because they have the most important bearing on happiness ?—Well then, consider whether I translate this maxim properly: 'If the objects which are productive of pleasures to sybarites, freed them from the fear of gods, and of death and of pain, and proved to them what are the proper limits to our passions, we should find nothing to blame, since these men would be enriched with pleasures on all sides and would not experience in any direction anything painful or grievous, which is what we mean by evil.' At this point Triarius could not contain himself. ‘Pray, Torquatus, said he, ‘is this what Epicurus says?’ For my part, I think that though he knew it, he still wanted to hear Torquatus admit it. He, how- ever, did not shrink, but very boldly answered: ‘yes, in those very words; but you here do not see through his meaning.’ ‘If he means one thing and utters another, said I, ‘I shall never under- stand what his meaning is; but whatever he grasps he states clearly. And if what he states is this, that sybarites are not to be blamed, if they be wise men, then he states nonsense, just- as much as if he were to declare that assassins are not to be blamed if they are not passionate and if they fear neither gods nor death nor pain. And yet what propriety is there in allowing any saving clause for sybarites, or in imagining persons, who, though they live like sybarites, are not blamed by the prince of philosophers on that account at least, while they guard against all else ? But for all that would you not, Epicurus, blame sybarites for this very reason, because they so live as to aim at pleasures of every class, and that although the supreme pleasure, as you yourself say, is to feel no pain? But, even so, we shall find profligates who, in the first place, are so destitute of superstition as to dine off the patin, and next are so thoroughly without fear of death, that they have on their lips the line of the Hymnis— For me six months suffice of life, the seventh to death I vow. Further, they will produce, as though from a medicine chest, the Epicurean panacea for their pain: If ts hard, tis short; of tis long, tis light. One thing I do not know, how a man can, if a sybarite, keep his passions within bounds,

VIII. What propriety then is there in saying: I should find nothing to blame, if they kept their passions within bounds? This is as much as to say: I should not blame profligates, if they were not profligates. Nor, on the same method, the unprincipled people if they were good men. At this point the stern fellow declines to think that sybaritism is in itself a thing to blame. And emphatically, Torquatus, to be candid, he is very right in declining, if pleasure is the supreme good. I should be sorry to imagine to myself profligates, as you often do, who are sick at table, and are carried away from banquets, and though dyspeptic gorge themselves again next day, who, as the saying has it, have never caught a glimpse of either the setting or the rising sun, who run through their inheritance and are beggars. There is not a man on our side who thinks that profligates of that kind have an agreeable life. Those who are refined and tasteful, with excellent cooks and confectioners, with fish, fowl and game, and all such things of recherché descriptions, who avoid dyspepsia, whose wine is drawn golden from a full cask, as Lucilius says, which has no harshness, but the strainer has removed it all—who introduce sports and their accompaniments, the things in the absence of which Epicurus (as he noisily tells us) cannot understand what good means ; let handsome youths stand by, to wait; let dress, plate, bronzes, the room itself and the building be all in keeping ;—well then, even such profligates as these I should never declare to live well or happily. From this it results, not that pleasure is not pleasure, but that pleasure is not the supreme good. Nor was the great Laelius, who in his youth had learnt of Diogenes the Stoic, and later of Panaetius, surnamed the wise, because he did not perceive what thing had the best flavour (it does not follow that when a man’s heart has true taste, his palate has none) but because he held such things in low esteem. Oh sorrel, how art thou despised nor ts thy worth truly known! ‘Twas oer thee that Laelius, the great sage, used to utter loud praises, addressing our gourmands one by one.

Finely does Laelius speak, and like a true sage, and this of his is true:

Oh Publius, Oh thou glutton Gallonius, a wretched man art thou, says he. Thou hast never yet dined well in thy life, though thou hast spent it all upon thy lobsters, and thy monstrous sturgeons. This language is used by one who, attaching no importance to pleasure, does not allow that a man dines well, who stakes his all on pleasure ; and yet he does not decline to admit that Gallonius ever dined to his satisfaction (that would indeed be a falsehood) but merely that he ever dined well. So seriously and so strictly did he divorce pleasure from good. From this the inference is drawn that all who dine well, dine to their satisfaction, while not all who dine to their satisfaction, there- by dine well. Laelius always dined well. What do we mean by well? Laelius shall say: on food well cooked, well seasoned; but tell me the pièce de resistance at the dinner: good conversation; what was the result? To our satisfaction, if you want to know. For in coming to dinner he purposed with mind at rest to satisfied the cravings of nature. Rightly then does he refuse to allow that Gallonius had ever dined well; rightly call him wretched, and that though he expended all his thoughts upon the matter; yet no one declines to admit that he dined to his satisfaction. Why not well, then? Because well means rightly, honestly, reputably; he on the contrary dined wrongly, wickedly, flagitiously ; so not well. It was not that Laelius rated the flavor of sorrel above that of sturgeon; but flavor was just what he disregarded ; though he would never do so, if he made the supreme good consist in pleasure.

IX. You must then set pleasure aside, not only if you want to pursue a right course, but if you want it to be seemly for you to speak the language of honest men. Can we then assert that a thing is for the whole of life the supreme good, though we do not think we can say it is so even fora dinner? Yet how does our philosopher talk? There are three kinds of passions, one natural and necessary, another natural but not necessary, a third neither natural nor necessary. In the first place his subdivision lacks neatness; for he has made what were really two classes into three. This is not to subdivide, but to rend asunder. The men who have learned the lessons he sets at nought usually proceed thus: there are two kinds of passions, the natural and the false ; of the natural there are two, the necessary and the unnecessary. The process would have been finished off. It is faulty in subdivision to count a species as a genus, But let us if you please waive this point. He is indifferent to logical neatness ; his talk is disorderly ; we must humor him, if only he thinks aright. To my mind this is exactly what is not very satisfactory (though I just do put up with it) that a philosopher should talk of limiting the passions. Can passion be limited? It is rather a thing to abolish and drag out by the roots. Who is there that cannot, if passion be in him, be rightly called passionate? So we shall have a miser, but within limits, and an adulterer, but he will keep within bounds, and a sybarite in the same way. What sort of philosophy is this, which does not lead to the extinction of depravity, but is satisfied with moderation in sin? Yet in the case of this subdivision, I entirely approve of its purpose, though I feel the absence of neatness. Let him call these feelings the cravings of nature; let him keep the term passion for another use, so that when he comes to speak of miserliness, self-indulgence, and the greatest sins, he may arraign the term (so to speak) on a capital charge. But he states these doctrines with greater freedom not unfrequently. Now I do not blame this; for we must expect a philosopher so great and so famed boldly to maintain his own dogmas; but owing to the fact that he seems often to embrace somewhat ardently that pleasure which all nations denote by the term, he sometimes is involved in great straits, so much so that there is nothing so disreputable that he does not seem likely to do it for the sake of pleasure, if only he were secure from the cognizance of his fellow men. Then blushing (for the force of nature is very great) he makes his escape in this way, by denying that any addition can be made to the pleasure felt by one who is free from pain. But this condition of freedom from pain is not called pleasure. I am not anxious about terms, says he. But how if the thing signified is entirely different? I shall find many persons, or rather persons without number, who are not so pedantic or so troublesome as you are, and such that I may easily win them over to any doctrine I choose. Why then do we hesitate to say, if absence of pain be the highest pleasure, that to be without pleasure is the intensest pain? Why does not this hold good, as I put it? Because pain has for its opposite not pleasure, but the removal of pain.

X. Now not to see that the greatest proof we have with regard to that form of pleasure apart from which he declares himself wholly unable to understand the nature of good (he pursues this pleasure into detail thus, that which we enjoy through the palate, and through the ears; then he adds the rest, things not to be named without an apologetic preface) —very well, this stern and serious philosopher does not see that the only good within his knowledge is a thing not even to be desired, because, on the authority of the same thinker, when- ever we are without pain we do not crave that form of pleasure. How irreconcilable these statements are! If he had been instructed in the processes of definition and subdivision, did he only understand the power of speech, or indeed the familiar usage of words, he would never have strayed into such rough paths; as it is you see what he does. What no one ever called pleasure, he calls so; he rolls two things into one. This active form of pleasure (for thus he describes these sweet and sugared pleasures, so to call them) he sometimes so refines away, that you think Manius Curius is the speaker, while he sometimes so extols it, that he declares himself to be without even an idea of what good is over and above this. When we get to this kind of language, it should be put down, not by some philosopher, but by the censor, for its fault is not a matter of language only but of morality as well. He finds nothing to blame in sybaritism, if only it be free from unbounded passion and fear. At this point I believe he is anxious to get pupils, to the intent that those who want to be profligates may become philosophers first. The beginning of the supreme good, I believe, is looked for in the earliest life of living creatures. As soon as the creature is born, it rejoices in pleasure and yearns for it as being good, and rejects pain as evil. He says however that creatures which are as yet uncorrupted give the best judgment about things evil and things good. You have yourself placed the matter in this light, and the phrases belong to your school. How many faults are here! By which kind of pleasure shall a puling babe determine the supreme good and evil, by the steady pleasure, or the active, since it pleases heaven that we should learn from Epicurus how to talk? If by the steady kind, of course the aim of nature is that her safety should be secured, and this we grant; if by the active, which after all is what you say, then no form of pleasure will be disreputable, so that it should be neglected, while at the same time the creature you imagine as newly born does not start from the supreme form of pleasure, which has been defined by you as consisting in the absence of pain. Yet Epicurus did not look to babes or even to animals, though he thinks them the mirrors of nature, for any proof to shew that they under the guidance of nature do desire this kind of pleasure which consists in absence of pain. Indeed this pleasure cannot stimulate our impulses, nor has this condition of freedom from pain any force whereby it may strike upon the mind; so Hieronymus sins in the same matter; but that condition which charms the sense by the presence of pleasure does strike upon the mind. So it is this condition which Epicurus always employs to prove that pleasure is naturally an object of desire, because it is the pleasure which consists in activity that attracts to itself: babes and animals alike, and not the other pleasure of the steady kind, which comprises only the absence of pain. How then is it consistent to say that nature starts from one kind of pleasure and then to lay down another kind as constituting the supreme good ?

XI. But I believe animals have no power of judging; since though they be uncorrupted, yet they may be corrupt. Just as one stick is bent and twisted intentionally, while another grows in that way, so the nature of beasts is not indeed corrupted by bad training, but is corrupt in its own constitution. Nor, moreover, does nature impel the babe to desire pleasure, but merely to love himself, and to desire himself to remain sound and secure. For every creature, from the moment of its birth, loves itself and all the divisions of itself, and is especially devoted to the two of these which are of most importance, its mind and body, and after them the subdivisions of each. For there are certain characteristics conspicuous both in mind and body, and when the creature has even slightly recognized these, it begins to draw distinctions, and to feel drawn towards the endowments which are primarily assigned to it by nature, and to reject their opposites. Whether pleasure is one of these primary natural endowments or not is a great problem, but to suppose that they comprise nothing but pleasure, putting aside our limbs, our senses, our intellectual activity, soundness of body, health, is in my opinion the extreme of ignorance. Yet this is the source from which must needs flow the whole theory of good and evil. Polemo and Aristotle before him believed the primary endowments to be as I stated them just now. Hence there sprang up the view of the old Academics and Peripatetics, which affirms ultimate good to consist of a life in harmony with nature, or rather the enjoyment of the primary endowments assigned by nature, with the addition of virtue. To virtue Callipho joined nothing but pleasure; Diodorus nothing but freedom from pain. In the case of all that I have mentioned, the theories of absolute good are consistent; Aristippus proposes pleasure unaccompanied, the Stoics agreement with nature, whereby they mean life after the law of virtue or rather of morality, which they expound as a life attended by understanding of the operations which come to pass in the’order of nature, with choice of such objects as accord with nature and rejection of their opposites. There are thus three theories of ultimate good which have nothing to do with morality; one that of Aristippus or of Epicurus, the second that of Hieronymus, the third that of Carneades; three in which we find morality combined with some addition; those of Polemo, Callipho, Diodorus; one view in which morality stands alone, of which Zeno is author; this view wholly em- braces seemliness or rather morality ; Pyrrho, Aristo, Erillus have surely long since dropped out of memory. While the other philosophers have been consistent with themselves, their absolute good agreeing with their first principles, since the absolute good is pleasure in the case of Aristippus, freedom from pain in the case of Hieronymus, in the case of Carneades the enjoyment of primary natural advantages; ...

XII. .... yet Epicurus after speaking of pleasure as the primary attraction, was bound to hold the same form of ultimate good with Aristippus, if he meant the same kind of pleasure; while if he meant by pleasure what Hieronymus held, he would have followed the same course, that of laying down his form of pleasure to be the primary attraction. Now as to his statement that pleasure is decided by the senses themselves to be good, and pain to be evil, he allows more authority to the senses than our laws grant to us when we act as judges in private suits. For we are unable to decide anything, except that which falls within our jurisdiction. In this matter judges often uselessly add, in giving their decision, the words if a thing falls within my jurisdiction; since if the affair was not within their jurisdiction, the decision is none the more valid for the omission of the words. On what do the senses decide? On sweet and bitter, smooth and rough, nearness and distance, rest and motion, the rectangular form and the circular. Reason then will declare an unbiased opinion, aided first by the knowledge of all things human and divine, which may justly be called wisdom, then by the association of the virtues, which reason has appointed to be rulers over all things, you to be the attendants and handmaidens of the pleasures; truly then the opinion of all these will in the first place declare concerning pleasure that there is no chance for her, I will not say to occupy alone the throne of the supreme good, but none even for her to occupy it with morality in the way described. As to freedom from pain their opinion will be the same.

Carneades too will be turned away, nor will any system concerning the supreme good be accepted which has any connection with either pleasure or absence of pain, or is dissociated from morality. So reason will reserve two schemes for her repeated deliberations; for she will either on the one hand decide that there is nothing good which is not moral, and nothing bad which is not immoral, that all other things are either entirely without importance, or have just so much that they are neither objects for our desire nor for our avoidance, but merely for our choice or our rejection; or she will prefer on the other hand that scheme which she sees not only furnished to the fullest extent with morality, but also enriched by those very primary endowments of nature, and by the perfection of life on all its sides. And she will be clearer in her judgment, if she understands whether the difference between these schemes is one of things or of names.

XIII. Attaching myself to her opinion I shall now take the same course. So far as I can I shall narrow the field of the dispute, and shall assume that all the uncomplex schemes of the philosophers, in which virtue is not added, are to be entirely banished from philosophy, first the scheme of Aristippus and all the Cyrenaics, who were not afraid to make their supreme good lie in that form of pleasure which excites sense with the greatest possible sweetness, while they made light of your freedom from pain. These men did not see that just as the horse is created for speed, the ox for ploughing, the dog for hunting, so man is created for two purposes, as Aristotle says, thought and action, being, so to speak a god subject to death, and in opposition to these views they have made up their minds that this godlike creature, like some sluggish and lazy beast, came into being to feed and take pleasure in propagating its kind; though I can imagine no view sillier than this. Well, this is directed against Aristippus, who accounts that pleasure which all of us alone call pleasure, to be not only the highest but the only form of pleasure; while your school holds different doctrine. But he, as I have said, is in fault; since neither the shape of the human body nor reason, preeminent among man’s mental endowments, gives any indication that man came into existence for the sole purpose of enjoying pleasures. Nor indeed must we listen to Hieronymus, whose supreme good is the same as that on which your school sometimes or rather very often insists, absence of pain. For if pain is an evil it does not follow that to be free from that evil suffices to produce the life of happiness. Let Ennius rather speak thus: he has a vast amount of good who has no ill; let us estimate happiness not by the banishment of evil, but by the acquisition of good, and let us not seek this in inactivity, whether of a joyous kind, like that of Aristippus, or marked by absence of pain, like that of our philosopher, but in action of some sort and reflection. Now these arguments may be advanced in the same form against the Carneadean view of the supreme good, though he proposed it not so much with the purpose of securing approval as with the intention of combating the Stoics, against whom he waged war; his supreme good is however of such a nature that when joined to virtue it seems likely to exert influence and to furnish forth abundantly the life of happiness, with which subject our whole inquiry is concerned. Those indeed who join to virtue either pleasure, the thing of all others which virtue holds in least esteem, or the absence of pain, which though it is unassociated with evil, still is not the supreme good, make an addition which is not very plausible, yet I do not under- stand why they should carry out the idea in such a niggardly and narrow manner. For, as though they had to pay for anything which they join with virtue, they in the first place unite with her the cheapest articles, next they would rather add things singly than combine with morality all those objects to which nature had primarily given her sanction. And because these objects were held worthless by Pyrrho and Aristo, so that they said there was absolutely no distinction of value between the best possible health and the most serious illness, people have quite rightly ceased long ago to argue against these philosophers. For by determining that on virtue alone everything so entirely depends, that they robbed her of free selection from among these objects, and allowed her neither starting point nor foothold, they abolished that very virtue of which they were enamored. Erillus again by assigning all importance to know- ledge, kept in view a single kind of good, but not the best kind nor one by whose aid life can possibly be steered. So he too was long ago cast into oblivion, for since the time of Chrysippus there have certainly been no discussions about him.

XIV. Your school then remains; for the struggle with the Academics is dubious, since they wake no assertions, and as if hopeless of sure knowledge, declare themselves to follow whatever appears probable. With Epicurus the contest is the more troublesome on these grounds, that he is a compound of two kinds of pleasure, and that besides himself and his friends, many champions of his system have arisen since his time, and somehow or other the multitude, whose credit is insignificant, but whose power is wast, acts on their side. Now unless we refute this company, we must turn our backs upon all virtue, all honor, all true merit. So setting aside the systems of ail the rest, there remains a contest not between me and Torquatus, but between virtue and pleasure: a contest of which Chrysippus, a man both shrewd and careful, does not think lightly, for he considers that the entire decision about the supreme good is involved in the opposition between these things. It is however my opinion that if I shew there is something moral, which is essentially desirable by reason of its inherent qualities and for its own sake, all the doctrines of your school are over- thrown. So when I have once briefly, as our time requires, determined the nature of this object, I will touch upon all your statements, Torquatus, unless perchance my recollection fails me. Well, by what is moral we understand something of such a nature that, even if absolutely deprived of utility, it may with justice be eulogized for its own qualities, apart from all rewards or advantages. Now the nature of this object cannot be so easily understood from the definition I have adopted (though to a considerable extent it can) as from the general verdict of all mankind, and the inclinations and actions of all the best men, who do very many things for the sole reason that they are seemly, right and moral, though they see that no profit will follow. Men indeed, while differing in many other points from brutes, differ especially in this, that they possess reason as a gift of nature, and a sharp and powerful intellect, which carries on with the utmost speed many operations at the same moment, and is, if I may so speak, keen- scented, for it discerns the causes of phenomena and their results, and abstracts their common features, gets together scattered facts, and links the future with the present, and brings within its ken the entire condition of life in its future course.

And this same reason has given man a yearning for his fellow men, and an agreement with them based on nature and language and intercourse, so that starting from affection for those of his own household and his own kin, he gradually takes wider range and connects himself by fellowship first with his countrymen, then with the whole human race, and, as Plato wrote to Archytas, bears in mind that he was not born for him- self alone, but for his fatherland and his kindred, so that only a slight part of his existence remains for himself. And seeing that nature again has implanted in man a passion for gazing upon the truth, as is seen very clearly when, being free from anxieties, we long to know even what takes place in the sky; so led on by these instincts we love all forms of truth, I mean all things trustworthy, candid and consistent, while we hate things unsound, insincere and deceptive, for instance cheating, perjury, spite, injustice. Reason again brings with it a rich and splendid spirit, suited to command rather than obedience, regarding all that may happen to man as not only endurable, but even inconsiderable, a certain lofty and exalted spirit, which fears nothing, bows to none, and is ever unconquerable. And now that we have marked out these three classes of things moral, there follows a fourth endued with the same loveliness and dependent on the other three; in this is comprised the spirit of orderliness and self-control. When the analogies of this spirit have been recognized in the beauty and grandeur of outward shapes, a man advances to the display of moral beauty in his words and deeds. For in consequence of the three classes of meritorious qualities which I mentioned before, he shrinks from reckless conduct, and does not venture to inflict injury by either a petulant word or action, and dreads to do or utter anything which seems unworthy of a man.

XV. Here you have a picture of morality, Torquatus, finished and complete on all sides, which is wholly comprised in these four virtues, concerning which you also talked. Your friend Epicurus says he is altogether ignorant of the nature and properties assigned to morality by those who make it the measure of the supreme good. For if, he says, they judge all things by the standard of morality and declare that in morality pleasure has no part, they raise a clamor of empty sound (these are the very words he uses) without understanding or seeing what meaning must needs be put on this term morality. For according to the language of custom, those qualities alone are called moral which are vaunted by the talk of the people. And these qualities, he says, although they are often sweeter than certain of the pleasures, are still desired for the sake of pleasure.

Do you not see how extensive is this disagreement? A famous philosopher, by whom not only Greece and Italy, but even all foreign nations have been thrown into excitement, declares that he does not understand what morality means, if it does not lie in pleasure, unless perhaps it be some qualities extolled by the babble of the crowd. But I hold such qualities to be often actually immoral, and if at any time they be not immoral, they are then not immoral when the crowd extols what is essentially in its own nature right and deserves to be extolled; yet it is not called moral for the reason that it is applauded by many men, but because it is of such a nature that even if men knew nothing -about it, or had even been struck with dumbness, it would deserve to be extolled for its inherent loveliness and beauty. So again, yielding to nature, which cannot be with- stood, he makes in another passage the statement which you also put forward a little while ago, that an agreeable life is not possible, unless it be also a moral life. What does he now mean by moral? The same that he means by agreeable? So this is it, that a moral life is not possible, unless it be also a moral life? Or, unless it accord with the talk of the multitude? He declares then that without this he cannot live agreeably? What is more immoral than that the life of a wise man should depend on the conversation of those who are no wise men? What is it then that in this passage he understands by moral? Assuredly nothing but what can with justice be extolled in and for itself. Since if it be extolled for the pleasure it brings, what kind of merit is that which can be bought in the meat- market? Seeing that he assigns such a place to morality as to declare that without it an agreeable life is impossible, he s not the man to adopt the kind of morality which depends on the multitude, and to declare that without that an agreeable life is an impossibility, or to understand anything else to be moral except what is right in itself and worthy of eulogy for its own sake, in its own essence, unaided, and by its own constitution.

XVI. So, Torquatus, when you stated how Epicurus cries aloud that an agreeable life is not possible, unless it be a moral, a wise, and a just life, you yourself seemed to me to be uttering a vaunt. Such energy was breathed into your words by the grandeur of those objects which your words represented, that you seemed to grow taller, and sometimes ceased your walk, and gazing at us almost deposed as a witness that morality and justice are sometimes eulogized by Epicurus. How well it became you to take these words on your lips, for if they were never uttered by philosophers, we should not care to have any philosophy at all! It is from a passion for those phrases which are very seldom employed by Epicurus, wisdom, I mean, courage, justice, temperance, that men of preeminent ability have devoted themselves to the pursuit of philosophy. Our eyesight, says Plato, is the keenest sense we have, yet it does not enable us to descry wisdom. What passionate affection for herself would she inspire in us! Why so? Because she is so crafty that she can build the fabric of the pleasures in the most excellent manner? Why is justice praised, or whence comes this saying so hackneyed from of old, a man you may play with in the dark? This proverb, though pointed at one thing only, has this very wide application, that in all transactions we should be influenced by the character of our actions and not by the presence of witnesses. Indeed the arguments you alleged were insignificant and very weak, I mean, that unprincipled men are tortured by their own consciousness within them, and also by the fear of punishment, which they either suffer, or live in dread of suffering at some time. It is not proper to imagine your bad man as a coward or a weakling, torturing himself about any- thing he has done, and frightened at everything, but rather as one who craftily judges of everything by his interests, being keen, shrewd and hardened, so that he readily devises means for cheating without detection, without witnesses, without any accomplice. Do you think I am speaking of Lucius Tubulus ? He, having presided as praetor over the court for trying murderers, took bribes in view of trials with such openness, that in the following year Publius Scaevola, the tribune of the commons, carried a bill in the popular assembly directing an inquiry to be made into the matter. Under this bill the senate voted that the inquiry should be conducted by Gnaeus Caepio the consul; Tubulus went into exile at once, and did not venture to defend himself; the facts were indeed evident.

XVII. We are inquiring then not merely about an unprincipled man but about one who is both crafty and unprincipled, as Quintus Pompeius shewed himself when he disowned the treaty with Numantia, one moreover who is not afraid of everything, but, to begin with, sets at nought the consciousness that is within him, which it costs him no effort to suppress. The man whom we call secret and deep, so far from informing against himself, will actually produce the impression that he is grieved by another person’s unprincipled action; for what does shrewdness mean, if not this? I recollect acting as adviser to Publius Sextilius Rufus when he laid before his friends this difficulty, that he was heir to Quintus Fadius Gallus, in whose will there was a statement that he had requested Rufus to see that the whole property passed to the daughter. This statement Sextilius said was untrue, and he might say so without fear, for who was to refute him? None of us believed him, and it was more probable that the falsehood lay with the man to whom it brought advantage than with him who had written that he had made the very request which it was his duty to make. The man said further that having sworn to observe the Voconian law he could not venture, unless his friends thought otherwise, to contravene it. I was quite young when I assisted at this conference, but there were many men of high distinction, not one of whom pronounced that any more money should be handed over to Fadia than might devolve upon her by the Voconian law. Sextilius kept a very large property, of which he would never have touched a single penny if he had accepted the tenets of those who set morality and uprightness above all gains and advantages. Well, do you suppose that his mind was afterwards troubled or disturbed? Nothing could be less true; on the contrary he was enriched by the property and this made him glad. He placed a high value on money gained not merely without breach of the laws, but actually by observance of the laws; and money your school must get in spite of risks, because it is productive of many and great pleasures. Thus, as the men who lay down that everything upright and moral is desirable for its own sake must often face dangers in the interests of seemliness and morality, so your friends, who measure everything by the standard of pleasure, must face dangers in order to make them- selves masters of great pleasures. If great wealth or a great property is at stake, seeing that money purchases very many pleasures, Epicurus must, if he desires to carry out his own view of ultimate good, act in the same manner as Scipio, who saw great fame in store for him, if he succeeded in drawing back Hannibal into Africa. Therefore how great was the danger that he faced! In this entire enterprise of his he was guided by morality and not by pleasure. So your wise man, when urged on by some great gain, will do battle for money’s sake, if occasion requires. Perhaps it may have been possible for a crime to remain concealed; he will be delighted; if caught, he will make light of all punishments, since he will be trained to think lightly of death and banishment and even pain itself. At least you and your friends represent pain as intolerable when you set punishment before the eyes of unprincipled men, but as endurable, when you make out that the wise man has always a preponderance of good.

XVIII. But suppose that a man who does some unprincipled act is not only crafty, but also all-powerful, as was M. Crassus (who nevertheless used to rely on his own form of good) and as at the present time our friend Pompeius is, to whom we must feel obliged for his upright conduct, since he might have been as wicked as he pleased, without fear. Again how many unjust deeds may be committed, which no man is permitted to blame! If a friend of yours on his death-bed asks you to hand over his property to his daughter, and does not record the fact anywhere, as Fadius did, nor mention it to any one, what will you do? You, personally, would hand it over; possibly Epicurus himself would; so Sextus Peducaeus, the son of Sextus, who has left behind him a son, our friend, in whom are mirrored his culture and his integrity; he being not only a scholar, but the best and most just of men, though no one knew that such a request had been made to him by Gaius Plotius, a Roman knight of distinction belonging to Nursia, yet did actually come to the lady, and explained to her the husband’s commission, when she had no suspicion of it, and then handed over to her the property. But, as you assuredly would have acted in the same way, I put the question to you whether you do not see how the power of nature is exalted by the fact that you, who determine all your actions by your own convenience and your own pleasure, as you your- selves declare, do in spite of that so act as to make it plain that you are guided not by pleasure but by duty, and that natural uprightness has more influence with you than your perverted philosophy? If, says Carneades, you know that a snake is concealed somewhere and that some one, by whose death you will gain, is intending to sit down on it unawares, you will do a rascally action, if you do not warn him not to sit down. But still, you would not be punished, for who could prove that you knew? But I am too diffuse, since it is clear that unless equity, faith and justice spring from nature, and if all these virtues be estimated by interest, a good man cannot anywhere be discovered, and enough has been said about this matter by Laelius in my volume about the commonwealth.

XIX. Apply the same remarks to self-restraint or temperance, by which I mean a government of the desires which pays allegiance to reason. Well then, supposing a man to yield to vice, in the absence of witnesses, would he shew suffcient regard for modesty, or is there something which is in itself abominable, though attended by no disgrace? What? Do brave men go to battle and pour out their blood for their country, because they have gone through the arithmetic of pleasures, or because they are carried away by a certain enthusiasm and tide of feeling? Pray do you think, Torquatus, that old Imperiosus, if he were listening to our talk, would find greater pleasure in giving ear to your speech about himself, or to mine, in which I stated that he had done nothing from regard for himself, but everything in the interest of the commonwealth; while on the contrary you said he had done nothing but what he did out of regard to himself? If more- over you had further chosen to make the matter clear, and to state your view more plainly, that he acted entirely with an eye to pleasure, how do you think he would have endured it?

Be it so; suppose, if you like, that Torquatus acted for the sake of his own interests (I would rather use this word than pleasures, particularly in relation to so great a man); did his colleague Publius Decius, who was the first of his family to achieve the consulship, think anything of his own pleasures, when he had offered himself up, and was rushing into the midst of the Latin line, with his horse at full gallop? Where did he expect to catch his pleasure or when, knowing that he must instantly die, and seeking his death with more burning zeal than Epicurus thinks should be given to the search for pleasure? And if this exploit of his had not been justly applauded, never would his son have emulated it in his fourth consulship, nor would this man’s son again have died on the field of battle, while conducting as consul the war with Pyrrhus, thus offering himself for his country as a third sacrifice from the same family in unbroken succession. I refrain from further instances. The Greeks have few in this class, Leonidas, Epaminondas, some three or four others ; if I begin to gather up our own examples, I shall indeed compel pleasure to surrender her- self to virtue as her prisoner, but the day will not be long enough for me, and just as Aulus Varius, who was looked upon as a rather severe judge, used to say to his assessor, when witnesses had been examined, and still others were being summoned: Ether we have got enough witnesses or I do not know what is enough, so I think I have supplied enough witnesses. Why, was it pleasure that led you yourself, a most worthy representative of your ancestors, while quite young, to rob Publius Sulla of the consulship? And when you had conferred this office on that staunchest of gentlemen, your father, what a noble consul he was, and what a noble citizen after his consulship, as always! And it was by his advice that I myself carried out a policy which had regard to the general interest rather than my own.

But how excellently you seemed to me to speak, when you set before us on the one side a man crowned with most numerous and most intense pleasures, free from all pain, either actual or impending, and on the other side one racked with most grievous torments over his whole frame, with no pleasure, either attendant or prospective, and then asked who could be more wretched than the latter man or more happy than the former, and thence inferred that pain is the paramount evil, and pleasure the paramount good!

XX. There was a man of Lanuvium, Lucius Thorius Balbus, whom you cannot remember; he lived in such fashion that no pleasure could be discovered, however rare, in which he did not revel. Not only was he a zealot for pleasures, but he possessed ability and resource in this line of life ; and he was so devoid of superstition, that he cared nothing for those sacrifices and shrines which are so very numerous in his native place, and so free from fear in face of death, that he died for his country on the field of battle. The bounds to his passions were prescribed not by the classification of Epicurus, but by his own sense of repletion. Yet he took care of his health, he availed himself of such exercise as might send him thirsty and hungry to dinner, and of such food as was at once pleasantest and easiest to digest, and of wine sufficient to give pleasure without doing harm. He gave heed to those other matters in the absence of which Epicurus says he fails to under- stand what goad means. All pain kept aloof; but if it had come, he would have endured it without weakness, though he would have resorted to physicians rather than philosophers. He had an admirable complexion, perfect health, extreme popularity, his life in fact was replete with all the divers forms of pleasure. This is the man you pronounce happy; at least your system compels you to it; but I have hardly the courage to say who it is that I prefer to him; virtue herself shall speak for me, and shall without hesitation prefer to your man of happiness her Marcus Regulus; and virtue proclaims that when he had re- turned from his own country to Carthage of his own choice and under no compulsion but that of his honour, which he had pledged to the enemy, he was happier in the very hour at which he was tortured by want of sleep and hunger, than Thorius when drinking on his bed of roses. He had conducted important wars, had been twice elected consul, had enjoyed a triumph, though he did not regard his previous exploits as so important or so splendid as his last sacrifice, which he had taken upon him from motives of honour and consistency: a sacrifice that seems pitiable to us when we hear of it, but was pleasurable to him while he endured it. In truth, happy men are not always in a state of cheerfulness or boisterousness, or mirth, or jesting, which things accompany light characters, but oftentimes even in stern mood are made happy by their staunchness and endurance. When Lucretia was violated by the king’s son, she called her fellow-countrymen to witness and cut short her life by her own hand. The indignation felt at this by the Roman people, with Brutus for their leader and adviser, gave freedom to the community, and in remembrance of the lady both her husband and her father were elected consuls in the first year. Lucius Verginius, a poor man and sprung from the people, in the sixtieth year after freedom had been won, slew his maiden daughter with his own hand rather than let her be sacrificed to the lust of Appius Claudius, who then held supreme authority.

XXI. You must either blame these examples, Torquatus, or must abandon your advocacy of pleasure. But what kind of advocacy is this, or what sort of case can you make out for pleasure, which will never be able to call witnesses either to fact or to character from among men of distinction? While we are wont to summon as our witnesses from the records of the past men whose whole life was spent in noble exertion, who would never be able to listen to the name of pleasure, on the other hand in your debates history is silent. I have never heard that in any discussion carried on by Epicurus the names of Lycurgus, Solon, Miltiades, Themistocles, Epaminondas were mentioned, men who are ever on the lips of all the other philosophers. Now however, seeing that we Romans also have begun to handle these subjects, what fine and great men will Atticus produce for us from his stores! Is it not better to say something of these men than to talk through such ponderous tomes about Themista? Let us allow such things to be characteristic of Greeks; though it is from them that we derive philosophy and all liberal arts; but still there are things which are not permitted to us, though permitted to them.

The Stoics are at war with the Peripatetics. The one school declares that there is nothing good but what is moral; the other that it assigns the highest, aye, infinitely the highest value to morality, but that nevertheless there are some good things connected with our bodies and also some external to us. What a moral debate, what a noble disagreement! In truth, the whole struggle concerns the prestige of virtue. But whenever you discuss with your fellow disciples, you must listen to much that concerns the impure pleasures, of which Epicurus very often speaks. Believe me, then, Torquatus, you cannot maintain your doctrines, if you once gain a clear view of your own nature and your own thoughts and inclinations; you will blush, I say, for that picture which Cleanthes used to paint, certainly very neatly, in his conversation. He bade his audience imagine to themselves pleasure painted in a picture as sitting on a throne, with most lovely raiment and queenly apparel; the virtues near her as her handmaidens, with no other employment, and no thought of other duty, than to wait upon pleasure, and merely to whisper in her ear (if only painting could convey such meaning) to guard against doing anything heedlessly, which might wound men’s feelings, or anything from which some pain might spring. We virtues, indeed, were born to be your thralls; we have no other function.

XXII. Oh, but Epicurus says (this indeed is your strong point) that no one can live agreeably who does not live morally. As though I gave any heed to what he affirms or denies! The question I ask is, what statement is consistent for a man to make, who builds his highest good upon pleasure. What do you allege to shew that Thorius, that Hirrius, that Postumius, and the master of all these men, Orata, did not live very agreeable lives? He himself, as I mentioned already, asserts that the life of sybarites is not worthy of blame, unless they are utterly foolish, that is, unless they are subject to passion and fear. And when he proffers a remedy for both these conditions, he proffers immunity to sybaritism. For if these two conditions are removed, he says that he finds nothing to blame in the life of profligates. You cannot therefore, while guiding all actions by pleasure, either defend or maintain virtue. For a man who refrains from injustice only to avoid evil must not be considered a good and just man; you know of course the saying, no one ts righteous, whose righteousness...; well, never suppose that any saying is truer. He is not indeed a just man, so long as his fear lasts, and assuredly he will not be so if he ceases to fear; while he will cease to fear if he is able either to conceal or by the aid of great resources to secure anything he has done, and will undoubtedly choose to be regarded as a good man, though not really so, rather than to be good, without being considered good. So you most disgracefully enjoin and press upon us in a kind of way a pretense of justice in the place of the true and indubitable justice; you wish us to disregard the firm ground of inner consciousness and to catch at the wandering fancies of other men. And the same statements may be made about the rest of the virtues, whose foundations, in every case, you pitch upon pleasure, as you might upon water. Well, can we call the same old Torquatus a brave man? You see I take delight, although I cannot pervert you, as you call it, I take delight, I repeat, both in your family and your name, and I declare that before my eyes there rises a vision of that most excellent man and very true friend of mine, Aulus Torquatus, whose great and conspicuous zeal for me at that crisis which is familiar to every one, must be well known to both of you; though I myself, while anxious to be and to be considered thankful, should not think such services deserving of gratitude, were it not plain to me that he was my friend for my sake and not for his own; unless by his own sake you hint at the fact that to do what is right brings advantage to all. If you mean this, I have won the victory; for what I desire and am struggling for is that duty should be duty’s own reward. That philosopher of yours will not have it so, but requires pleasure from everything as a kind of fee. But I return to our old. Torquatus; if it was for the sake of pleasure that he fought his combat with the Gaul on the banks of the Anio, when challenged, and if from the spoils of the foe he invested himself at once with the necklet and the title from any other motive than the feeling that such exploits beseem a man, then I do not regard him as brave. Further, if honour, if loyalty, if chastity, if in a word temperance,— if all these are to be governed by dread of retribution or of dis- grace, and are not to sustain themselves by their own inherent purity, what kind of adultery, or impurity, or passion will not take its heedless and headlong course, if either concealment is promised to it, or freedom from punishment, or immunity ? Why, Torquatus, what a state of things does this seem, that you with your name, abilities and distinctions, cannot venture to confess before a public meeting your actions, your thoughts, your aims, your objects, or what that thing is from love of which you desire to carry ‘your undertakings to completion, in fine what it is that you judge to be the best thing in life ? What would you be willing to take, on condition that when once you have entered on your office and risen before the assembly (you know you must announce what rules you intend to follow in your administration of the law, and perhaps too, if you think it good to do so, you will say something about your own ancestry and yourself, after the custom of our forefathers) —well then, what would you take to declare that during your term of office you will do everything with a view to pleasure, and that you have never done anything during life except with a view to pleasure? You say, do you suppose me to be such a madman as to speak before ignorant men in that fashion? But make the same statements in court, or, if you are afraid of the crowd, make them in the senate. You will never do it. Why not, unless it be that such speech is disgraceful? Do you suppose then that I and Triarius are fit persons to listen to your disgraceful talk?

XXIII. But let us grant this: the very name pleasure has no prestige, and we perhaps do not understand it; for you philosophers say over and over again, that we do not under- stand what kind of pleasure you mean. Surely it is a hard and abstruse subject! When you speak of atoms and spaces between universes, which do not and cannot exist, then we understand ; and can we not understand pleasure, which every sparrow knows so well? What if I bring you to admit that I not only know what pleasure is (it is indeed an agreeable activity affecting the sense) but what you intend it to be? At one time you intend it to mean exactly what I just now indicated, and imply by the name that it is something active, and produces a certain variation ; at another time you speak of a certain other supreme pleasure, which is incapable of increase ; this you say is present when all pain is absent; this you call stable pleasure. Let us grant that this is pleasure. State before any public meeting you like that you do everything with a view to avoiding pain. If you think that even this statement cannot be made with proper honor and dignity, say that both during your term of office and your whole life you intend always to act with an eye to your interest, doing nothing but what is profitable, nothing in fine except for your own private sake; what kind of uproar do you think there will be, or what hope will you have of the consulship, which is now very well assured to you? Do you mean then to follow a system such that you adopt it when alone and in the company of your friends but do not venture to proclaim it or make it public? But in reality when you attend the courts or the senate you have always on your lips the language of the Peripatetics and the Stoics. Duty and equity, honor and loyalty, uprightness and morality, everything worthy of the empire and the Roman people, all kind of dangers to be faced for the commonwealth, death due to our country,—when you talk in this strain, we simpletons are overcome, but you I suppose laugh in your sleeve. Verily among these phrases, splendid and noble as they are, no place is found for pleasure, not merely for that pleasure which you philosophers say lies in activity, which all men in town and country, all I say, who speak Latin, call pleasure, but even for this stable pleasure, which no one but you entitles pleasure.

XXIV. Consider then whether you ought not to avoid adopting our language, along with opinions of your own. If you were to disguise your features or your gait in order to make yourself appear more dignified, you would be unlike yourself; are you the man to disguise your language, and say what you do not think? Or to keep one opinion for your home, as you might a suit of clothes, and another for the streets, so that you bear on your brow a mere pretense, while the truth is concealed within? Consider, I pray you, whether this is honest. I believe that those tenets are true which are moral, praiseworthy and noble, which are to be proclaimed in the senate, before the people, and in every public meeting and assembly, for fear that men should feel no shame in thinking what they feel shame in stating. What room can there be for friendship, or who can be a friend to any one whom he does not love for that friend’s sake? What does loving, from which the word friendship comes, mean, unless that a man desires some one to be endowed with the greatest possible blessings, even though no benefit accrues to himself from them? It is advantageous to me, says he, to entertain such feelings, Say rather, perhaps, to be thought to entertain them. For you cannot entertain them, unless you really mean to do so; and how can you do so, unless love itself takes possession of you? And love is not usually brought about by calculating the balance of advantage, but is self-created, and springs into existence unsolicited. Oh, but it is advantage that I look to. Then friendship will last just so long as advantage attends it, and if advantage establishes friendship, it will also remove it. But what will you do, pray, if, as often happens, friendship is deserted by advantage? Will you abandon it? What sort of friendship is that? Will you cleave to it? How is that consistent ? You see what principles you have laid down about friendship being desirable with a view to advantage. I am afraid of incurring unpopularity, if I cease to support my friend. First I ask why such a proceeding deserves to be unpopular, unless because it is disgraceful? But if you refrain from abandoning your friend, from the fear that you may meet with some inconvenience, still you will wish him to die, that you may not be tied to him without any profit. What if he not merely brings you no advantage but you have to make sacrifices of your property, to undergo exertions, to face the risk of your life? Will you not even then glance at yourself and reflect that every man is born to pursue his own interests and his own pleasures? Will you give yourself up to a despot, to suffer death as surety for your friend, even as the Pythagorean of old submitted to the Sicilian despot, or while you are really Pylades, will you assert yourself to be Orestes, from the wish to die in your friend’s stead, or if you were really Orestes, would you try to disprove Pylades’ story, and disclose yourself, and failing to convince, would you refuse to petition against the execution of you both at once?

XXV. You, Torquatus, would do all this; for there is, I think, no action meriting the highest approbation, which I believe you likely to omit through fear either of death or of pain. But the question is not what consists with your disposition, but what consists with your philosophy. The principles which you maintain, the maxims which you have been taught and accept are utterly subversive of friendship, even though Epicurus should laud it to the skies, as indeed he does. Oh, but he himself cultivated friendships. Pray, who denies that he was not only a good man, but a kindly and a gentle man? In these discussions the point at issue concerns his ability, and not his character. Let us leave such aberrations to the light-minded Greeks, who persecute with their abuse those with whom they disagree about the truth. But whatever his kindliness in sup- porting his friends, yet if what you say of him is true (for I make no confident statements) he was deficient in penetration. But he won the assent of many. Perhaps deservedly too, but the evidence of the crowd is not of the highest importance; since in every art or pursuit, or in any kind of knowledge whatever, the highest excellence is always very scarce. And to my mind, the fact that Epicurus was himself a good man and that many Epicureans have been and many are to-day true in their friend- ships and strong and serious in the conduct of their whole life, not governing their plans by pleasure but by duty,—this fact makes the power of morality seem greater and that of pleasure less. Some men indeed so live that their language is refuted by their life. And while the rest of men are supposed to be better in their words than in their deeds, these men’s deeds seem to me better than their words.

XXVI. But this, I allow, is nothing to the purpose; let us look into your assertions about friendship. One of these I thought I recognized as a saying of Epicurus himself, that friendship cannot be divorced from pleasure, and deserves to be cultivated on that account, because our lives cannot be secure or free from apprehension without it, and so cannot be agreeable either. To such arguments I have made a sufficient answer. You have quoted another and more cultured maxim of the modern school, to which he himself never gave utterance, so far as I know, namely that the friend is desired with a view to advantage in the first instance, but that when familiarity has been established, then he is loved for his own sake, even if the expectation of pleasure be disregarded. Although this utterance may be criticized in many ways, I still welcome the concession they make; since it is enough for my purposes, though not for theirs. For they say that right action is sometimes possible without hope of or seeking after pleasure. Others also, as you insisted, maintain that wise men enter into a sort of league with each other, binding them to entertain for their friends the very same feelings that they entertain for themselves; that such a league is not only possible but has often been made, and is of. especial importance for the attainment of pleasures. If they have found it possible to establish this league, let them also establish another, namely to feel regard for equity, temperance, and all the virtues from pure love of them apart from interest. Or if we mean to: cultivate: friendships with ‘an eye to gains and benefits and advantages, if there is to be no feeling of affection which renders friendship inherently from its own nature and its own power, through and for itself desirable, can there really be any: doubt that we shall prefer our estates and our house-rents to our friends? At this point you may quote once more what Epicurus said in most excellent language on the merits of friendship. I am not inquiring what he says, but what it s open to him to say consistently with his own system and doctrines. Friendship has ever been sought for the sake of advantage. Do you imagine then that Triarius here can bring you more advantage than the granaries at Puteoli would if they belonged to you? Bring together all the points common in your school: the protection friends afford. Enough protection is already afforded you by yourself, by the laws, by ordinary friendships; already it will not be possible to treat you with neglect, while you will find it easy to escape from unpopularity and dislike; since it is with reference to such things that Epicurus lays down his maxims. And, apart from this, with such revenues at your command for the display of generosity, you will defend and fortify yourself excellently by means of the goodwill of many, without this friendship of the Pyladean order. But for a friend to share jest and earnest, as the saying is, your secrets, all your hidden thoughts? You may best of all keep them to yourself, next you may share them with a friend of the ordinary stamp. But allowing all these privileges to be far from odious, what are they compared with the advantages of such great wealth? You see then that if you gauge friendship by disinterested. affection there is nothing more excellent, but if by profit, that the closest intimacies are less valuable than the returns from productive property. You ought to love me myself, and not my possessions, if we are to be true friends.

XXVII. But we dwell too long upon very simple matters. When we have once concluded and demonstrated that if every- thing is judged by the standard of pleasure, no room is left for either virtues or friendships, there is nothing besides on which- we need greatly insist. And yet, lest it should be thought that any passage is left without reply, I will now also say a few words in answer to the remainder of your speech. Well then, whereas the whole importance of philosophy lies in its bearing on happiness, and it is from a desire for happiness alone that men have devoted themselves to this pursuit, and whereas some place happiness in one thing, some in another, while you place it in pleasure, and similarly on the other side all wretchedness you place in pain, let us first examine the nature of happiness as you conceive it. Now you will grant me this, I suppose, that happiness, if only it exists at all, ought to lie entirely within the wise man’s own control. For if the life of happiness may cease to be so, then it cannot be really happy. Who indeed has any faith that a thing which is perishable and fleeting will in his own case always continue solid and strong? But he who feels no confidence in the permanence of the blessings he possesses, must needs apprehend that he will some time or other be wretched, if he loses them. Now no one can be happy while in alarm about his most important possessions; no one then can possibly be happy. For happiness is usually spoken of not with reference to some period of time, but to permanence, nor do we talk of the life of happiness at all, unless that life be rounded off and complete, nor can a man be happy at one time, and wretched at another; since any man who judges that he can become wretched will never be happy. For when happiness has been once entered on, it is as durable as wisdom herself, who is the creator of the life of happiness, nor does it await the last days of life, as Herodotus writes that Solon enjoined upon Croesus. But I shall be reminded (as you said yourself) that Epicurus will not admit that continuance of time contributes anything to happiness, or that less pleasure is realized in a short period of time than if the pleasure were eternal. These statements are most inconsistent ; for while he places his supreme good in pleasure, he refuses to allow that pleasure can reach a greater height in a life of boundless extent, than in one limited and moderate in length. He who places good entirely in virtue can say that happiness is consummated by the consummation of virtue, since he denies that time brings additions to his supreme good; but when a man supposes that happiness is caused by pleasure, how are his doctrines to be reconciled, if he means to affirm that pleasure is not heightened by duration? In that case, neither is pain. Or, though all the most enduring pains are also the most wretched, does length of time not render pleasure more enviable? What reason then has Epicurus for calling a god, as he does, both happy and eternal? If you take away his eternity, Jupiter will be not a whit happier than Epicurus, since both of them are in the enjoyment of the supreme good, which is pleasure. Oh, but our philosopher is subject to pain as well. Yes, but he sets it at nought; for he says that, if he were being roasted, he would call out how sweet this is! In what respect then is he inferior to the god, if not in respect of eternity? And what good does eternity bring but the highest form of pleasure, and that prolonged for ever? What boots it then to use high sounding language unless your language be consistent ? On bodily pleasure (I will add mental, if you like, on the understanding that it also springs, as you believe, from the body) depends the life of happiness. Well, who can guarantee the wise man that this pleasure will be permanent? For the circumstances that give rise to pleasures are not within the control of the wise man, since your happiness is not dependent on wisdom herself, but on the objects which wisdom procures with a view to pleasure. Now all such objects are external to us, and what is external is in the power of chance. Thus for- tune becomes lady paramount over happiness, though Epicurus says she to a small extent only crosses the path of the wise man.

XXVIII. Come, you will say to me, these are small matters. The wise man is enriched by nature herself, whose wealth, as Epicurus has taught us, is easily procured. His statements are good, and I do not attack them, but they are inconsistent with each other. He declares that no less pleasure is derived from the poorest sustenance, or rather from the most despicable kinds of food and dink, than from the most recherché dishes of the banquet. If he declared that it made no difference to happiness what kind of food he lived on, I should yield him the point and even applaud him ; for he would be asserting the strict truth, and I listen when Socrates, who holds pleasure in no esteem, affirms that hunger is the proper seasoning for food, and thirst for drink. But to one who, judging of everything by pleasure, lives like Gallonius, but talks like the old Piso Frugi, I do not listen, nor do I believe that he says what he thinks. He announced that nature’s wealth is easily procurable, because nature is satisfied with little. This would be true, if you did not value pleasure so highly. The pleasure, he says, that is obtained from the cheapest things is not inferior to that which is got from the most costly. To say this is to be destitute not merely of intelligence, but even of a palate. Truly those who disregard pleasure itself are free to say that they do not prefer a sturgeon ‘to a sprat; but he who places his supreme good in pleasure must judge of everything by sense and not by reason, and must say that those things are best which are most tasty. But let that pass; let us suppose he acquires the intensest pleasures not merely at small cost, but at no cost at all, so far as I am concerned; let the pleasure given by the cress which the Persians used to eat, as Xenophon writes, be no less than that afforded by the banquets of Syracuse, which are severely blamed by Plato; let the acquisition of pleasure be as easy, I say, as you make it out to be; still what are we to say about pain? Its agonies are so great that a life surrounded by. them cannot be happy, if only pain is the greatest of evils. Why, Metrodorus himself, who is almost a second Epicurus, sketches happiness almost in these words; a well regulated condition of body, accompanied by the assurance that it will continue so. Can any one possibly be assured as to the state of this body of his, I do not say in a year’s time, but by the time evening comes? Pain then, that is to say the greatest of evils, will always be an object of dread, even though it be not present, for it may present itself at any moment. How then can the dread of the greatest possible evil consort with the life of happiness? Someone tells me: Epicurus imparts to us a scheme which will enable us to pay no heed to pain. To begin with, the thing is in itself ridiculous, that no attention should be given to the greatest of evils. But pray what is his scheme? The greatest pain, he says, ts short. First, what do you mean by short? Next, what by the greatest pain? May the greatest pain not continue for some days? Look to it, that it may. not continue some months even! Unless possibly you refer to the kind of pain which is fatal as soon as it seizes any one. Who dreads such pain as that? I wish rather you would alleviate that other sort, under which I saw that most excellent and most cultivated gentleman, my friend Gnaeus Octavius, son of Marcus, wasting away, and not on one occasion only or for a short time, but often and over quite a long period. What tortures did he endure, ye eternal gods, when all his limbs seemed on fire! Yet for all that we did not regard him as wretched, but only as distressed, for pain was not to him the greatest of evils. But he would have been wretched, if he had been immersed in pleasures, while his life was scandalous and wicked.

XXIX. Again when you say that great pain is short, while prolonged pain is light, I do not understand what it is that you mean. For I am acquainted with instances where pains were not only great but also prolonged for a considerable time; and ' yet for enduring them there is another and truer mcthod, of which you who do not love morality for its own sake cannot avail yourselves. There are certain maxims, and I might almost say enactments, concerning courage, which prohibit a man from being womanish in the midst of pain. So we must think it disgraceful, I do not say to feel pain (for that certainly is occasionally inevitable) but to make that old rock of Lemnus ghostly with the roarings of a Philoctetes, which, by echoing back the shriekings, cryings, groanings, sighings, dumb eae ut be, returns the sounds of lamentation.

Let Epicurus ¢ chant his prophecy to such an one, if he can, one whose veins within him, tainted with poison from the serpent’s tooth, bubble with foul torments. Says Epicurus: hush, Philoctetes, your pain is short. But for nearly ten years already he has been lying sick in his cave. If tis long ‘tis light; for it has its pauses, and sometimes slackens. First, it is not often so; next what is this slackening worth, when not only is the recollection of past pain fresh in the mind, but the dread of future and imminent pain causes a torment? Let the man die, says he. Perhaps it is best so, but what becomes of your saying there is always a balance of pleasure? For if that is true, see that you be not committing a crime in advising death. Rather hold language such as this, namely that it is disgraceful, that it is unmanly to be weakened by pain, to be broken by it and conquered. For your maxims if ’tis hard, ’ts short, if ’tis long, ’tis light, are a mere parrot’s lesson. Pain is usually assuaged by the soothing applications of virtue, I mean loftiness of spirit, endurance and courage.

XXX. Not to digress too far, hear what Epicurus says on his death-bed, that you may perceive how his actions are at variance with his maxims: Epicurus wishes health to Hermarchus. I write this letter (he says) while passing a happy day, and the last of my life. Pains in the bladder and intestines are upon me, so severe that their intensity cannot be in- creased. Wretched creature! If pain is the greatest of evils we cannot call him anything else. But let us listen to the man himself. Still all these are outweighed, he says, by elation of mind, arising from the recollection of my theories and discoveries. But do you, as befits the feelings you have entertained from — your youth up for me and for philosophy, remember to protect the children of Metrodorus.

After this I do not admire the death of Epaminondas or of Leonidas more than this man’s death ; though one of these, after winning a victory over the Lacedaemonians at Mantinea, and finding that his life was ebbing away, owing to a serious wound, asked, as soon as he saw how things stood, whether his shield was safe. When his weeping comrades had answered that it was, he asked whether the enemy had been routed. When he heard. that this too was as he desired, he ordered that the spear which had pierced him should be extracted. So he died from the copious flow of blood, in a moment of exultation and victory. Leonidas again, the king of the Lacedaemonians, along with the three hundred men whom he had led from Sparta, when the choice lay between a base retreat and a splendid death, confronted the enemy at Thermopylae. The deaths of generals are celebrated, while philosophers mostly die in their beds. Still it makes a difference how they die. This philosopher thought himself happy at the moment of death. A great credit to him. My intense pains, he says, are outweighed by elation of mind. The voice I hear is indeed that of a true philosopher, Epicurus, but you have forgotten what you ought to say. For, first, if there is truth in those matters which you say it causes you joy to recall, I mean, if your writings and discoveries are true, you cannot feel joy, since you now possess no blessing which you can set down to the account of the body ; whereas you have always told us that no one can feel joy unless on account of the body, nor pain either. JI feel joy in my past joys, he tells me. What past joys? If you say those relating to the body, I read that you set against your pains your philosophical theories, and not any recollection of pleasures enjoyed by the body; if you say those relating to the mind, then your maxim is untrue, that there is no. joy of the mind, which has not a relation to the body. Why after that do you give a commission about the children of Metrodorus? What is there about your admirable goodness and extreme loyalty (for so I judge it to be) that you connect with the body?

XXXI. You and your friends, Torquatus, may twist yourselves this way and that; but you will find nothing in this noble letter from the hand of Epicurus, which harmonizes or accords with his dogmas. So he is refuted out of his own mouth, and his writings are put to shame by his own honesty and character. For from that commission about the children, from the remembrance of and tender feeling for friendship, from the observance of most important duties when at the last gasp, we learn that disinterested honesty was inbred in the man, and was not bribed into existence by pleasures, nor called forth by the wages of rewards. What stronger evidence do we want to prove that morality and uprightness are in themselves desirable, when we see such goodness displayed at the moment of death? But while I regard as creditable the letter which I have just translated almost word for word, though it was by no means in accord with the spirit of his philosophy, yet I am of opinion that this same philosopher's will is at variance not only with the seriousness becoming a true philosopher, but even with his own opinions. He wrote both many times in detail, and also shortly and clearly in the book I have just mentioned, that death is of no importance to us; for anything which has decayed is destitute of feeling; and what is destitute of feeling is of no importance whatever to us. This maxim itself might have been more neatly put and better. For when he puts it thus: what has decayed is without feeling, his statement does not explain sufficiently what it is that has decayed. Still I understand what he means. However, as all feeling is quenched by decay, by which he means death, and as nothing whatever remains which is of any importance to. us, I ask how it is that he provides and lays down with such care and minuteness that his heirs, Amynomachus and Timocrates, should, with the sanction of Hermarchus, give a sum ‘sufficient for the celebration of his birthday every year in the month Gamelion, and also money to provide each month, on the twentieth day after the new moon, a banquet for all those who studied philosophy along with him, that so the memory of himself and of Metrodorus may be reverenced. I am not able to deny that these directions shew us a man as nice and as kindly as you please, but to assume that any man has a birth- day is utterly unworthy of a philosopher, more particularly a natural philosopher (for by this name he desires himself to be called). Why, can the very day that has once been come round again and again? Assuredly it cannot. Or a day just like it? That is not possible either, unless after many thousands of years have intervened, so that there comes to pass a return of all the stars simultaneously to the point from which they set out. No one therefore has a birthday. But it is customary. And I did not know it, I suppose! But if it be, is the custom to be observed even after death? And is provision to be made for it in his will by the man who has uttered to us his almost oracular speech that nothing after death is of any importance to us? Such things do not recall the man who had traversed in thought countless universes and boundless tracts, without shore and without end. Did Democritus ever do anything of the kind? Passing by others, I appeal to the man whom he followed more than all the rest. But if a day was to be signalised, why the day on which he was born, rather than that on which he became a wise man? You will tell me he could not have become a wise man, had he not been born, Nor yet if his grandmother had never been born, if you come to that. The whole notion, Torquatus, of desiring that the recollection of one’s name should be kept fresh after death by a banquet, is entirely for unlearned men. Now I say nothing about the way in which you celebrate such festivals, or the amount of pleasantry you have to face from the wits; there is no need for us to quarrel; I only say thus much, that it was more pardonable for you to observe the birthday of Epicurus than for him to provide by will that it should be observed.

XXXII. But to return to our theme (for we were speaking about pain when we drifted into the consideration of this letter) we may now thus sum up the whole matter: he who is subject to the greatest possible evil is not happy so long as he remains subject to it, whereas the wise man always is happy, though he is at times subject to pain; pain therefore is not the greatest possible evil. Now what kind of statement is this, that past blessings do not fade from the wise man’s memory, but still that he ought not to remember his misfortunes? First, have we power over our recollections? I know that Themistocles, when Simonides, or it may be some one else, offered to teach him the art of remembering, said: Z would rather learn the art of forgetting ; for I remember even the things I do not wish to re- member, while I cannot forget what I wish to forget. He had great gifts; but the truth is really this, that it is too domineering for a philosopher to interdict us from remembering things. Take care that your commands be not those of a Manlius or even stronger; I mean when you lay a command on me which I cannot possibly execute. What if the recollection of past misfortunes is actually agreeable? Some proverbs will thus be truer than your doctrines. It is a common saying: Fast toils are agreeable; and not badly did Euripides say (I shall put it into Latin if I can; you all know the line in Greek): Sweet s the memory of toils that are past. But let us return to the subject of past blessings. If you spoke of such blessings as enabled Gaius Marius, though exiled, starving, and immersed in a swamp, to lighten his pain by re- calling to mind his triumphs, I would listen to you and give you my entire approval. Indeed the happiness of the wise man - can never be perfected, or reach its goal, if his good thoughts and deeds are to be successively effaced by his own forgetfulness,

But in your view life is rendered happy by the remembrance of pleasures already enjoyed, and moreover those enjoyed by the body. For if there are any other pleasures, then it is not true that all mental pleasures are dependent on association with the body. Now if bodily pleasure, even when past, gives satisfaction, I do not see why Aristotle should so utterly ridicule the inscription of Sardanapallus, in which that king of Syria boasts that he has carried away with him all the lustful pleasures. For, says Aristotle, how could he retain after death a thing which, even when he was alive, he could only feel just so long as he actually enjoyed it? Bodily pleasures therefore ebb and fly away one after another, and more often leave behind them reason for regret than for remembrance. Happier then is Africanus when he thus converses with his country : Cease, Rome, thy enemies to fear, with the noble sequel: For my toils have established for thee thy bulwarks. He takes delight in his past toils; you bid him delight in his past pleasures; he turns his thoughts once more to achievements, not one of which he ever connected with the body; you wholly cling to the body.

XXXIII. But how is this very position of your school to be made good, namely that all intellectual pleasures and pains alike are referable to bodily pleasures and pains? Do you never get any gratification (I know the kind of man I am addressing) do you, then, Torquatus, never get any gratification from anything whatever for its own sake? I put on one side nobleness, morality, the mere beauty of the virtues, of which I have already spoken; I will put before you these slighter matters; -when you either write or read a poem or a speech, when you press your inquiries concerning all events, and all countries, when you see a statue, a picture, an attractive spot, games, fights with beasts, the country house of Lucullus (for if I were to mention your own, you would find a loop-hole, you would say that it had to do with your body)—well then, do you connect all the things I have mentioned with the body? Or is there something which gives you gratification for its own sake ? You will either shew yourself very obstinate, if you persist in connecting with the body everything that I have mentioned, or will prove a traitor to the whole of pleasure, as Epicurus conceives it, if you give the opposite opinion. But when you maintain that the mental pleasures and pains are more intense than those of the body, because the mind is associated with time of three kinds, while the body has only consciousness of what is present, how can you accept the result that one who feels some joy on my account, feels more joy than I do myself? But in your anxiety to prove the wise man happy, because the pleasures he experiences in his mind are the greatest, and incomparably greater than those he experiences in his body, you are blind to the difficulty that meets you. For the mental pains he experiences will also be incomparably greater than those of the body. So the very man whom you are anxious to represent as constantly happy must needs be sometimes wretched; nor indeed will you ever prove your point, while you continue to connect everything with pleasure and pain. Hence, Torquatus, we must discover some other form of the highest good for man; let us abandon pleasure to the beasts, whom you are accustomed to summon as witnesses about the supreme good. What if even beasts very often, under the guidance of the peculiar constitution of each, shew some of them kindness, even at the cost of toil, so that when they bear and rear their young it is very patent that they aim at something different from pleasure ? Others again, rejoice in wanderings and in journeys; others in their assemblages imitate in a certain way the meetings of burgesses; in some kinds of birds we see certain signs of affection, as well as knowledge and memory; in many also we see regrets; shall we admit then that in beasts there are certain shadows of human virtues, unconnected with pleasure, while in men them- selves virtue cannot exist unless with a view-to pleasure? And shall we say that man, who far excels all other creatures, has received no peculiar gifts from nature ?

XXXIV. We in fact, if everything depends upon pleasure, are very far inferior to the beasts, for whom the earth unbidden, without toil of theirs, pours forth from her breast varied and copious food, while we with difficulty or hardly even with difficulty supply ourselves with ours, winning it by heavy toil, Yet I cannot on any account believe that the supreme good is the same for animals and for man. Pray what use is there in such elaborate preparations for acquiring the best accomplishments, or in such a crowd of the most noble occupations, or in such a train of virtues, if all these things are sought after for no other end but that of pleasure? Just as, supposing Xerxes, with his vast fleets and vast forces of cavalry and infantry, after bridging the Hellespont and piercing Athos, after marching over seas, and sailing over the land, then, when he had attacked Greece with such vehemence, had been asked by some one about the reason for such vast forces and so great a war, and had answered that he wanted to carry off some honey from Hymettus, surely such enormous exertions would have seemed purposeless; so precisely if we say that the wise man, endowed and equipped with the most numerous and important accomplishments and excellences, not traversing seas on foot, like the king, or mountains with fleets, but embracing in his thoughts all the heaven, and the whole earth with the entire sea, is in search of pleasure, then we shall be in effect saying that these vast efforts are for the sake of a drop of honey. Believe me, Torquatus, we are born to a loftier and grander destiny; and this is proved not merely by the endowments of our minds, which possess power to recollect countless experiences (in your case power unlimited) and an insight into the future not far removed from prophecy, and honour the governor of passion, and justice the loyal guardian of human fellowship, and a staunch and unwavering disregard of pain and death when there are toils to be endured or dangers to be faced—well, these are the endowments of our minds; I beg you now also to think even of our limbs and our senses, which will appear to you, like the other divisions of our body, not merely to accompany the virtues, but even to do them service. Now if in the body itself there are many things to be preferred to pleasure, strength for example, health, swiftness, beauty, what I ask do you suppose is the case with our minds? Those most _ learned men of old thought that mind contained a certain heavenly and godlike element. But if pleasure were equivalent to the supreme good, as you assert, it would be an enviable thing to live day and night without intermission in a state of extreme pleasure, all the senses being agitated by, and so to Say, steeped in sweetness of every kind. Now who is there deserving the name of man, that would choose to continue for one whole day in pleasure of such a kind? The Cyrenaics I admit are not averse to it; your friends treat these matters with greater decency; they perhaps with greater consistency. But let us survey in our thoughts not these very important arts, lacking which some men were called inert by our ancestors; what I ask is whether you suppose, I do not say Homer, Archilochus, or Pindar, but Phidias, Polyclitus, or Zeuxis, to have regulated their arts by pleasure. Will then an artist aim higher in order to secure beauty of form than a preeminent citizen in the hope to achieve beauty of action? Now what other reason is there for so serious a misconception, spread far and wide as it is, but that the philosopher who pronounces pleasure to be the supreme good takes counsel, not with that part of his mind in which thought and reflection reside, but with his passions, that is to say, with the most frivolous part of his soul? If gods exist, as even your school supposes, I ask you how they can be happy, when they cannot realize pleasure with their bodily faculties, or if they are happy without that kind of pleasure, why you refuse to allow that = wise man can have similar intellectual enjoyment ? : XXXV. Read the eulogies, Torquatus, passed not upon the men who have been extolled by Homer, not upon Cyrus or Agesilaus or Aristides or Themistocles, not upon Philip or Alexander; read those of our own countrymen, of your own family; you will find that no one ever was extolled in such language as to be styled a subtle artist in the acquisition of pleasures. That is not the witness of the inscriptions on the tombs; this for example at the city gate: Many peoples agree that he was a leader of the nation beyond compare. Do we imagine that many peoples agreed concerning Calatinus that he was a leader of the nation, because he far excelled others in the production of pleasures? Are we then to say that those young men give good promise and shew great ability, whom we believe likely to be slaves to their own interests, and to do whatever brings them profit? Do we not see how great a con- fusion is likely to ensue in all affairs, and what great complications? Generosity is at an end; gratitude is at an end, and these are the bonds of peace. Nor, though you lend a thing to a man for your own sake, must it be called generosity, but usury, and no gratitude appears to be due to one who has made a loan for his own purposes. If pleasure is set on a throne, the highest virtues must necessarily take a low place. There are many forms of dishonour concerning which it is not easy to allege a reason why they should not beset the wise man, unless morality possesses by the laws of nature very great power.

And, not to take in too many considerations (they are indeed countless) if virtue is adequately extolled, the approaches to pleasure are inevitably barred. Now do not expect any such eulogy from me; just examine your own mind yourself, and probing it with all possible deliberation question yourself whether you prefer to pass all your life in the thorough enjoyment of uninterrupted pleasures, in that calm of which you were continually talking, untouched by pain, with the proviso which your school are accustomed to add, though it is an impossible one, that fear of pain be absent, or rather, while rendering splendid service to the whole world, and bringing succor and deliverance to those in distress, to suffer even the dolours of Hercules? For in this way our ancestors designated his inevitable toils, using the most melancholy term dolours though he was a god. I should entice from you and even force from you a reply, did I not fear you would say that pleasure was the motive which induced even Hercules to achieve all that he did achieve by intense effort for the health of nations.

When I had thus spoken, Triarius said, ‘I have friends to whom I can refer these questions, and although I might have made some answer myself, still I would rather look to men better equipped than myself.’ ‘I believe you mean our friends Siro and Philodemus, not only excellent men, but men of very great learning. ‘You understand me rightly,’ said he. ‘Agreed, then,’ said I, ‘ but it were fairer that Triarius should give some verdict about our disagreement.’ ‘I reject him on affidavit,’ said Torquatus with a smile, ‘as prejudiced, at all events on this subject, since you handle these topics with some gentleness, while he persecutes us after the fashion of the Stoics? Then Triarius remarked: ‘ At least I shall do so here- after with greater confidence. For I shall be ready with the doctrines I have just listened to; though I shall not attack you ` until I see that you have been primed by the friends you mention.’ This said, we put an end at once to our walk and our debate.

END OF BOOK II.

3. BOOK III - The Stoics

I THINK, Brutus, that pleasure, for her part, if she conducted her own case, and were not represented by such obstinate advocates, would capitulate to true worth, after the sentence passed in the preceding book. ‘She would indeed be brazen-faced did she any longer fight against virtue, or prefer delights to morals or maintain that bodily gratification, or the exhilaration consequent upon it, is more precious than mental dignity and stability. So let us discharge her with a caution to keep herself within the sphere that is her own, lest her enticements and her wiles interfere with the austerity proper to debate.

We have indeed to inquire where that supreme good resides which we are anxious to discover, seeing that it has now been dissociated from pleasure, and nearly the same arguments may be urged against the philosophers who have decided that the ultimate good is absence of pain, and let us never accept as the supreme good any good which is unconnected with virtue, for nothing can be more excellent than that. Therefore, although in the discourse which we carried on with Torquatus we were not slack, still the struggle with the Stoics that lies before us calls for more vigour. Certainly when assertions are made about pleasure, not much ability and no profundity at all is dis- played in the discussion, since on the one hand, her supporters are unpractised in logic, and on the other her assailants have no strong case to meet; Epicurus himself actually says that there is no need to lead proof on the subject of pleasure, because our judgment concerning ‘it depends on our senses, that it is enough for us to receive a hint, and useless for us to be instructed. Therefore we found the debate a plain affair for both parties. There was in fact nothing involved or intricate in the discourse of Torquatus, and my speech, I believe, was quite clear. But you are not unaware how refined or rather how beset with thorns is the system of logic pursued by the Stoics, and that is not only the case with the Greeks, but still more with us, who have to create a terminology, and to assign to novel matters novel titles. And this will surprise no one who has even a slight tincture of learning, when he reflects that with every art, the practice of which is not ordinary and general, there arise many novel expressions, whenever names are assigned to the matters with which each art is concerned. So logicians and natural philosophers use such terms as are not familiar to the Greeks themselves; certainly the mathematicians and musicians, and the grammarians too, talk after a fashion of their own; even the systems of the rhetoricians, which look entirely to the courts and the public, nevertheless use for purposes of instruc- tion terms which are almost their property and peculiar to themselves. II. Now to pass by these refined and liberal arts, even the artisans would not be able to maintain their crafts, did they not use terms which are incomprehensible to us but familiar to themselves. Nay even husbandry, which is incom- patible with all refinement of the smoother sort, has still stamped with new titles the things with which it is conversant. All the more reason for a philosopher to act in the same way, since philosophy is the art of life, and when a man discourses about it he cannot pick up his terms in the street. Yet I must say the Stoics of all philosophers have been the greatest innovators, and Zeno their founder was a discoverer not so much of new ideas as of new terms. But if in a tongue which most think very rich, the most learned men, when treating of matters not generally known, have been permitted to use unfamiliar terms, how much more is the permission due to us, who are now for the first time venturing to set our hands to these subjects? And seeing that I have often declared (with some murmuring, of course, on the part not only of the Greeks, but of those who wish to be taken for Greeks rather than Romans) that not only do we not yieid to the Greeks in richness of vocabulary, but are actually in that respect better off than they, we must take pains to realise this not only in the case of arts that are our own, but also in those that belong to the Greeks themselves, Still, those terms which according to the custom of the ancients we treat as Latin, for instance philosophy itself, also rhetoric, dialectic, grammar, geometry, music, these, though we might have expressed them by Latin terms, let us regard as our own, seeing that by habit we have thoroughly appropriated them. So much for the titles given to the sub- jects, but as to the subjects themselves, Brutus, I am often afraid that I may be blamed for addressing my book to you, who have made such great progress not merely in philosophy, but in a most excellent system of philosophy. Now if I did this by way of schooling you, so to say, I should deserve the blame.. But am very far from doing so, and I dedicate the book to you not that I may bring to your knowledge things you know thoroughly well already, but rather because I dwell on your name with the greatest satisfaction, and find in you the most impartial connoisseur and critic of those pursuits which I follow in common with you. You will give me then, as you always do, your careful attention and will arbitrate in the dispute which I had with that marvellous and unique man, your uncle. Now being at my house at Tusculum, and desiring to consult some books in the library of young Lucullus, I went to his mansion to bring away the books myself, as my custom was. On arriving there I saw Marcus Cato, whom I had not expected to find there, seated in the library, in the midst of a great flood of Stoic literature. He had, as you know, a boundless passion for reading, which it was impossible to satisfy; so much so that it was his frequent custom, not shrinking from the carpings of the crowd, vain as they were, to read even in the senate house, while waiting for the members to assemble, as he was not depriving the state of his services; so still more on that occasion, with plenty of leisure and abundant supplies, he seemed almost to enjoy a literary debauch, if I may use this phrase about so splendid an occupation. When it came about that we suddenly caught sight of each other, he rose to his feet at once. 'When came the first speeches, such as we always make when we meet. ‘What has brought you here?’ he said, ‘for I suppose you come from your own house;’ then ‘if I had known you were there, I would have come myself to see you.’ ‘Yesterday,’ said I, ‘when the races began I left the city and arrived towards evening. My motive for coming here was to take away some books from the house. And in truth, Cato, it will be fitting for our young Lucullus to make acquaintance by and by with the whole of this rich store; for I would rather see him take pleasure in these books than in everything else with which the mansion is furnished. I feel great eagerness (though this is a duty that is peculiarly yours) to get him so educated that he may be worthy of his father and of our friend Caepio and of yourself who are so closely related to him. Now my anxiety is not without reason, for I am influenced by my recollection of his grandfather (you know of course how highly I valued Caepio, who in my opinion would now be among the first men in the country were he alive): and a vision of Lucullus is present to me, a man preeminent in all respects and withal united to me by friendship and by every tie of feeling and opinion. ‘You act admirably, said he, ‘in keep- ing fresh your recollection of these friends, both of whom in their wills bespoke your favour for their children, and also in shewing affection for the boy. When however you speak of my duty, I make no objection, but I associate you with me as my colleague. This too I will say, that the boy already affords me many indications of a sense of honour and also of ability; but you see how young he is.’ ‘Indeed I see,’ said I, ‘but for all that he must even now receive a tincture of those acquirements which, if they are instilled into him while he is of tender years, will enable him to proceed very well equipped to higher tasks.’ ‘Just so; and we will talk over the matter between ourselves very carefully and very often, and will take action in common. But,’ said he, ‘let us seat ourselves, if you please.’ And we did so. III. Then he said, ‘But what books are you looking for here, pray, when you have such a quantity of books yourself ?’ ‘I came, said I, ‘to carry off some treatises of Aristotle, which I knew were here, intending to read them while I had leisure; and that is a thing which does not often fall to my lot.’ ‘How I wish, said he, ‘that you had felt a bent towards the Stoic school! It was surely to be expected of you, if of any one, that you would place in the category of good nothing but virtue.’ ‘Look well to it, said I; ‘perhaps it was rather to be expected of you, inasmuch as your views substantially agreed with mine, that you would not force upon the doctrines new titles. Our principles are at one, and only our language is at variance.’ ‘Our principles are very far from being at one,’ said he, ‘for whatever that thing may be over and above morality, which you declare to be desirable, and reckon among things good, you thereby quench morality itself, which we may liken to the light cast by virtue, and virtue too you utterly overthrow.’ ‘ Your words, Cato,’ said I, ‘are grandiose; but do you not see that you share your high- sounding phraseology with Pyrrho and Aristo, who are thorough- going levellers? I should like to know what you think of them.’ ‘Do you ask what I think of them?’ said he. ‘I think that all the good staunch upright soberminded statesmen of whom we have been told, or whom we have ourselves seen, who without any learning and merely following nature’s guidance, have performed many meritorious exploits, were better trained by nature than they could possibly have been trained by philosophy, if they had accepted any other doctrine than that which regards nothing save morality as belonging to the category of good, and as belonging to the category of evil nothing save baseness; as to the remaining philosophical systems which, no doubt in different degrees, but still all of them to some extent count as good or as evil some object unconnected with virtue, they, as I think, not only fail to aid us or strengthen us in the struggle to become better, but actually corrupt nature. Indeed were we not to hold fast to this, that the only good is morality, it could not possibly by any method be shewn that happiness is the outcome of virtue; and if the fact were so, I am at a loss to see why we should devote our energy to philosophy. If some wise man might be wretched, verily I should not consider that vaunting and much bruited virtue to have any great value.'

IV. ‘Cato,’ said I, ‘all that you have said up to this point you might say in the same words, if you were a partisan of Pyrrho or Aristo. You surely are not unaware that they believe the morality of which you speak to be not merely the chief, but actually, as you maintain it to be, the only good; and if this is so, the very conclusion follows, which I see you maintain, that all wise men are always happy. Do you then applaud these philosophers,’ I said, ‘and do you pronounce that it behoves us to accept this opinion of theirs?’ ‘Not their opinion by any means, said he, ‘for’ inasmuch as the charac- teristic of virtue is to make choice of those objects which are in harmony with nature, the philosophers who have reduced all objects to the same level, making their importance so entirely equal in both directions that they practised no choice at all, these philosophers, I say, have actually swept virtue out of existence.’ ‘What you say is excellent,’ said I, ‘but I ask whether you yourself must not commit the same crime, since, while asserting that nothing is good but uprightness and morality, you sweep away every distinction between the values of all other objects.’ ‘True, he said, ‘if I did sweep the distinction away, but I leave it untouched.’ ‘How so?’ said I. ‘If virtue alone, that unique thing which you describe as morality, uprightness, meritoriousness, seemliness (we shall better understand its nature if it be stamped with several names having the same import) if then, I say, that is the only. good thing, what will you find besides, worthy of effort ? Or if there is nothing evil but baseness, immorality, unseemliness, — corruption, infamy, disgrace (this too we must render con- spicuous by several titles) what besides will you declare to be an object of avoidance?’ ‘As,’ said he, ‘you are not unaware. of the doctrine I am going to state, but, l fancy, are eager to snatch some advantage from a brief answer on my side, I shall not reply to your questions one by one; I shall prefer, as we are at leisure, to expound (unless you think it out of place) the entire scheme of Zeno and the Stoics.’ ‘It is by no means out of place, said I, ‘and your exposition will contribute much to the settlement of the question under discussion.’ ‘Let us make the attempt then,’ said he, ‘though our Stoic system has something in it which is uncommonly hard and dark. Now at the time when these very terms applied to new subjects were new to the Greek language, they were thought intolerable, yet daily habit has worn them smooth; what do you suppose will happen in the case of Latin?’ ‘Thé matter is very simple indeed, said I, ‘for if Zeno was free, when he had discovered some un- familiar doctrine, to assign to it a phrase equally unknown, why should Cato not have that freedom? But there will be no need to represent every sitigle term by a new term, as trans- lators without style generdlly do, if there already exists a more familiar term which conveys the same meaning; I am actually in the habit of explaining by several terms, if I can find no other way, what the Gteeks represent by means of one. For all that, however, I think we ought to be allowed to adopt a Greek phrase, if it proves difficult to meet with a Latin one; nor should this licence be permitted to ephippia and acrato- phora any more than to proegmena and apoproegmena. Yet for these terms it will be permissible to substitute praeposita and reiecta (‘objects preferred’ and ‘objects rejected’). ‘I am much obliged to you,’ said he, ‘for your assistance, and I shall prefer to adopt as Latin the terms you just now mentioned ; in what rémains you will come to my rescue if you see me in difficulties.’ ‘I will be careful to do so,’ said I,‘ but fortune favours the brave, so pray make the effort. What occupation indeed can we find more splendid than this ?’

V. ‘It is the belief,’ said he, ‘of those whose system I follow, that immediately upon the birth of a sentient creature (for this must be our starting point) the creature is attracted to its own being and is impelled to maintain its own existence and to feel affection for its own constitution, and for all that tends to maintain that constitution, while it recoils from death, and from all that seems to induce death. That this is the case they shew by this consideration, that children, before pleasure or pain has touched them, yearn after what is wholesome, and refuse the opposite things; this would by no means take place, unless they felt affection for their own constitution and shrank from death. They could by no means yearn after anything, unless they had consciousness of their own personality and so felt affection for themselves. From this we are bound to understand that the earliest impulse proceeds from love of self. Moreover, among the elementary endowments of nature most Stoics think pleasure has no place. To these I give my emphatic approval; otherwise, if it were believed that nature introduced pleasure among those objects for which the earliest yearnings are felt, many abominable consequences will ensue. It is thought, however, that there is sufficient proof of the reason we have for attachment to the objects which are the earliest we embrace on nature’s prompting, in the fact that there is no one who having both alternatives open to him would not prefer that all parts of his body should be symmetrical and sound, rather than dwarfed and warped, even if their useful- ness remained the same. Now our perceptions of external objects (which we may call either acts of apprehension or acts of sensa- tion, or if these phrases are distasteful or not very comprehensible, we may use the word xaradnWes) we imagine deserve to be embraced for their inherent worth; because they comprise some- thing which, so to speak, encircles and holds within it the truth, This can be clearly seen in children, whom we see to be overjoyed, if they have discovered something by their unaided reason, even though they gain no advantage thereby. The sciences too we think are to be chosen for their own sake; not only because they contain within them something worthy of our choice, but because they are built up from perceptions; and comprise certain conclusions established by methodical reasoning. These philosophers suppose that men recoil more from the ren- dering of assent to falsehoods than from all other circum- stances which are out of harmony with nature. Further, of the limbs, or I should rather say, of the parts of the body, some seem to have been bestowed upon us by nature on account of their utility, hands for example, legs, feet and the internal bodily organs, the extent of whose usefulness is debated even by physicians; while others have been given not because of use but in some sense with a view to adorn- ment; thus the peacock has his tail, the pigeon plumage of changing colours, men the breasts and the beard. All these matters are perhaps dry, as stated ; they are indeed, so to speak, the ‘beggarly elements’ of nature, upon which a copious style can scarce be exercised; though to be sure style is not what I design ` to keep in view; but still whenever you treat of the more sublime themes, the themes themselves carry the utterance with them ; so the style acquires not only greater dignity but also greater brilliance.’ ‘True,’ said I; ‘yet every transparent utterance on an excellent subject is to my mind admirable. _Now the wish to ex- pound a subject like yours in rich language is childish, while the desire tu have the power of giving a clear and lucid explanation well beseems a learned and thinking man.’ VI. ‘Let us proceed then, said he, ‘ since we have left behind us those first natural en- dowments, with which all that follows must harmonise. We have next this fundamental distinction: they call valuable (this is the right word for us to use, I think) anything which is either itself in harmony with nature, or gives rise to something of that character, so that it is worthy of our choice because it has some import- ance which entitles it to a eertain value, which the Stoics call a&ia: on the other hand what is opposite to this is, they say, value- less. As then we have so established our first principles that all things in harmony with nature are worthy of choice on their own account, while their opposites are in the same way worthy of re- jection, the earliest of appropriate actions (I thus render xa@nxov) is that the ereature should maintain itself in its natural constitu- tion; next that it should cleave to all that is in harmony with nature and spurn all that is not; and when once this principle of - choice and also of rejection has been arrived at, there follows next in order choice characterised by appropriateness of action, next such a choice exercised continuously, then finally such a choice rendered unwavering and in thorough agreement with nature ; and it is in this state that we first begin to possess within us and to understand what it is that may truly be called good. Now the earliest attraction of a human being is to those things which are conformable to nature; but as soon as he has laid hold of general ideas or rather conceptions (this is what they call cvvora) and has seen the method and, if I may say so, the harmony of conduct, he then values that harmony far higher than all the objects for which he had felt the earliest affection, and he reaches such conclusions by inquiry and reasoning, as make him decide that in this state lies that supreme human good which is in itself praiseworthy and desirable ; and seeing that this good depends on what the Stoics name opo- Aoyia and we may term harmony, if you please—well then, seeing that on this depends that good by which all things must be judged, it follows that all moral actions and morality generally, which is the only matter regarded as belonging to the category of things good, although it arises at a late stage, yet is alone desirable for its inherent value and worth, while of the objects which constitute the first endowments given by nature, no one is for its own sake desirable. Inasmuch however as those actions, to which I have given the name appropriate, spring from those primary gifts of nature, it must be these gifts that the actions have for their aim, so we may rightly declare that all appropriate actions have for their aim the acquisition of the primary endowments of nature, yet that this acquisition is not the crowning good, because among those matters to which nature first attracts us moral action is not included; it is of course posterior and arises at a late stage, as I have said. Yet it is conformable to nature, and far more than all those earlier objects inspires us with desire to attain it. But from this statement we must first remove a possibility of mistake, lest some one should suppose the conclusion to follow that there are two forms of the highest good. For just as if one were to set himself the task of taking aim with spear or arrow at some mark, so we speak of the supreme good. The man, in the comparison we have made, would be bound to do all he could to take right aim, and yet while it would he a sort of supreme end for such a man to take every step conducing to the attainment of his design, similar to the supreme good of which we speak in the case of conduct, still the actual hitting of the mark would be something preferable, so to speak, and not something desirable. VII. Now seeing that the starting point for all appropriate action lies in the primary endowments of nature, there too must lie the starting point for wisdom herself. But just as it often happens that a man who has a letter of introduction to another, values more highly the man to whom he is introduced than the man who gives him the introduction, so it is by no means strange that at the outset we are introduced to wisdom by the elementary instincts of nature, while at a later time wisdom herself becomes more precious to us than those instincts by which we were led up to her. And just as our limbs were given us on such conditions as make it plain that they were given us with a view to a particular method of life, so mental impulse, which in Greek is called óp}, was clearly given with a view not to any chance mode of living, but to some particular scheme of life, and so too were reason and especially reason in its perfect form. Just as the actor has assigned to him gestures and the dancer movements which are not casual but definite; so we must conduct our life on a plan which is definite and not arbitrary: and to do this is the kind of thing we call harmonious and consistent. Nor do we suppose that wisdom is like pilotage or medicine, but rather like those gestures I have just mentioned and like the art of dancing, so that its aim, which is the production of an artistic result, lies in its own being, and is | not looked for outside that. Yet for all that there is on the other hand a want of resemblance between these very arts and wisdom, because in them individual right actions do not imply right action in all the spheres which the arts comprise; while (in wisdom) the actions which we may call right or rightly done, if you please (they call them xatop@wuara) imply every quality of virtue. For wisdom alone has her glance entirely directed | to herself; a characteristic not found in the rest of the arts. It shews ignorance to compare the aim of medicine or pilotage with the aim of wisdom. Wisdom embraces highminded- ness and justice and the power whereby a man considers beneath him all that befalls humanity ; and this is not the case with the other arts. But no one will be able to lay hold on the very virtues to which I have just made allusion unless he has determined that there is no essential distinction or difference between any two things, excepting between morality and vice. Let us see how strikingly the statements which follow agree with those that I have already made. Inasmuch as this is the end (you understand, I suppose, that for some time I have been denoting what the Greeks call rédos by the terms end, aim, goal; we may also say mark for end or aim) well then, inasmuch as this is our end, to Hve in con- formity and harmony with nature, it follows of necessity that all wise men always live fortunately, perfectly, prosperously, without obstacles, without restriction, without want. One doctrine which is not more essential to the system concerning which I am now speaking, than to our lives and possessions, the doctrine that morality is alone good, may be enlarged upon and tricked out in rhetorical fashion by the use of extended and abundant discourse and all the choicest phrases and most imposing maxims; but the short methods of the Stoics please me by their terseness and cleverness. VIJI. Their proofs then are put into this shape: all that is good deserves praise; all that deserves praise is moral; therefore all that is good is moral. Does this argument seem to you pretty cogent? Surely it does; for you see the result of the two premisses is expressed in the conclusion. Of the two pre- misses on which the. conclusion is based, the first is generally met by the assertion that not everything good deserves praise, for it is granted that everything which deserves praise is moral. It is further very ridiculous to say this, that there is some good thing which is not desirable; or something desirable, which is not satisfactory, or if satisfactory, not also worthy of choice : so it must be also worthy of adoption; so also deserving of praise and therefore moral. Thus we conclude that what is good is also moral, Next I ask who can glory either in a wretched life or in a life which is not happy. We can only then glory in a happy life. It results from this that glorification, if I may so call it, is the due of happiness, and this due can only of right belong to a moral life; hence it comes about that a happy life is a moral life. And seeing that he whose lot it is to claim praise with justice, has a certain privilege which marks him out for distinction and renown, so that he may on the strength of such great advantages justly be styled happy, it will be perfectly right to make a similar statement about the life of such a man. So if morality is the criterion of a life of happiness we must consider what is moral to be alone good. Well then, would it be possible in any way to contradict the statement that the character of the man whom we call strong-minded, the man of unmoved and powerful and high spirit, cannot be produced unless it be a settled point that pain is no real evil? Just as he who places death in the category of things evil cannot help dreading it, so no one under any cir- cumstances can disregard or neglect what he has pronounced to be an evil; and when this assertion has been made and allowed by common consent, the further assumption is made that the man of high and strong spirit scorns and counts as nought everything that can befall humanity. This being so, the conclusion follows that there is no evil but vice. Now that man of lofty and towering spirit, of high soul, and truly strong, who reckons as far beneath him all human chances, that man, I say, whom we wish to bring to light, of whom we are in search, must surely have faith in himself and in all his own life both past and future, and must pass a favourable judgment on him- self, being convinced that no ill can happen to the man of wis- dom. From this once more we perceive that what is moral is alone good, and that to live happily is to live morally, that is virtuously.

IX. I am not indeed unaware that there has been a divi- sion of opinion among philosophers, I mean among those who place the supreme good, which I call our aim, in the mind. Now although some have pushed these opinions to wrong conclusions, yet I prefer those philosophers whatever their opinions, who have placed the supreme good in the mind and in virtue, to all the others, not only to those three who have divorced the supreme good from virtue, while laying down either pleasure or freedom from pain or the primary natural endowments as the supreme good, but also to those other three who have supposed that virtue would be crippled if left without any additions, and so have joined to her one or other of those objects which I have enumerated above. But for all that very ridiculous are the thinkers who have asserted that a life attended by knowledge is the final good, and those others who have declared that no distinctions of value can be drawn between objects and that the man of wisdom is happy on this condition that he finds no turn of the scale to make him prefer any one thing to any other, and again those who say (as some Academics are stated to have pronounced) that the ultimate good of the wise man and his highest function is to offer resistance to his impressions and to resolutely withhold from all phenomena his assent. To each one of these schools we usually find prolix replies are made ; but we must not dwell long on what is self-evident. Now what is plainer than that if no choice be exercised between the things that conform to nature and the things that are hostile to nature, all that prudence which is the object of search and the object of eulogy, would be swept out of existence? If then we prune away those doctrines with which I have been dealing and the others that are like them, we have remaining the theory that the supreme good is to live by the light of a knowledge of nature’s operations, choosing what accords with nature and refusing what is at variance with nature, which is equivalent to a life in harmony and conformity with nature. But in all other arts, when we use the phrase done artistically, we have to think of a characteristic which comes after the act, so to speak, and follows upon it, which the Stoics call ézreyevynuatexor ; when however we speak of an action as done wisely, such an action is most rightly said to have that character from its. very first inception. All that proceeds from the man of wisdom must be from the first moment complete in every respect; for this is the condition which makes us call a thing desirable. Now while it is a sin to be traitor to one’s country, to do violence to one’s parents, to pillage shrines, all of which are sins by reason of an external result, so fear, sorrow and passion are sins even though without external result. But just as these feelings are sins not in their consequence and their issue but from their verv first inception, so acts which: proceed from virtue are to be thought upright from the moment they are undertaken, not from the moment they are completed. X. The term good of which mention has been so often made in this discourse is moreover made explicit by the process of definition. But the definitions given by the Stoics do indeed. disagree with one another just a little, though their general. purport is the same. I agree with Diogenes, who has defined good as that which is naturally perfect. Following up this definition he further declared that which is beneficial (so let us translate wheAnpua) to be a process or condition arising from that which is naturally perfect. And whereas conceptions concerning objects arise in our minds when something has been apprehended by experience or by combination or by com- parison of resemblances or by logical inference; it is by this fourth process, to which I have assigned the last place, that we arrive at our conception of the good. When the mind by the aid of logical inference rises from the contemplation of those objects which conform to nature, then it arrives at a conception of the good. Now this very good we declare and name good not in con- sequence of any process of addition or increase or comparison with the other objects, but on account of its own inherent quali- ties. Just as honey, although it is the sweetest of things, is pro- nounced to be sweet by virtue of its own peculiar kind of taste and not through comparison with other sweet objects, so the good with which we are dealing must indeed be valued more highly than all else, but that value is based on qualitative and not on quantitative considerations. For inasmuch as value, which the Greeks call aia, has been reckoned as belonging neither to things good nor, on the other hand, to things evil, it will remain in its own class, however great additions to it you may have made. There is therefore another kind of value peculiar to virtue, whose worth is based on its nature, not on its quantity.

Moreover, mental emotions, which render wretched and bitter the life of the unwise; these the Greeks name mán and I might have called them diseases, by a literal translation of the word, which however would not suit all its applications ; who indeed is there in the habit of calling pity or even anger a disease? But the Greeks call it wa@os; well then, let us call it emotion, the very name of which seems to make clear its faultiness. All emotions belong to four classes which have a large number of subdivisions, grief, fear, desire, and that which the Stoics denote by the name dov, equally applicable to body and mind; I prefer to call it delight, a pleasurable excitement, so to speak, of the mind in a state of exultation. Now emotions are excited by no natural impulse, and all such feelings are fancies and judgments due to instability of character ; and so the wise man will always be free from emotion.

XI. Now the doctrine that everything moral is in itself desirable, is one which we hold in common with many philo- sophers of other schools. If we except those three systems which cut off virtue from the supreme good, all the other philosophers are bound to maintain this doctrine, but particularly the Stoics, who have laid down that nothing else but what is moral can rank in the class of things good. But this doctrine is one that is very easy and very simple to maintain. Who is there or ever was there, whose greed was so consuming or his passions so un- bridled, that he would not far prefer that the very object which he is determined to achieve by going all lengths in crime, should fall into his power without any criminal act, rather than in the other way, even though impunity were assured him to the fullest extent? What advantage or utility have we in view, when we long to know how those bodies, so mysterious to us, are set in motion and what are the causesof their movements in the heavens? Who guides his life by principles so rude, or has become so insen- sible to the enthusiasm for physical inquiries that he is repelled by matters which deserve to be known, and feels no need of such knowledge and accounts it worthless, unless accompanied by pleasure or advantage? Or who, as he reviews the exploits, the maxims, the designs of our forefathers, either the Africani or my great grandfather, whose name is ever on your lips, and the rest of the heroes who were strong and preeminent for every ex- cellence, is not touched in his thoughts bysome feeling of pleasure? What man, if he has been educated in a virtuous household and gently nurtured, does not recoil from vice for what it is in itself, even although it be not likely to injure him? Who can look un- moved on one whom he supposes to be leading a foul and infamous life? Who does not loathe the mean, the vaunting, the inconstant, the worthless ? If we intend to lay down that vice is not in itself a thing to shun, what reason will it be possible to urge, to pre- vent men from running into every sort of indecency, when once they have the advantage of obscurity and isolation, if vice does not repel them by its own inherent vileness? Countless argu- ments may be advanced in support of this opinion, but they are needless, ‘There is no point on which it is possible to feel less doubt than that things moral are in themselves desirable, and that in the same way things vicious are in themselves repellent. Now that we have established the conclusion mentioned above that what is moral is alone good, it cannot but be seen that what is moral must be more highly valued than the things, in themselves indifferent, which are procured by it. Now whenever we say that unwisdom and cowardice and injustice and intemperance are things to be avoided on account of their consequences, we do not put forward that statement in such a sense as to make our present speech seem at variance with the principle formerly laid down, that vice is the only evil—and for this reason, that the con- sequences mentioned have nothing to do with bodily inconvenience but with vicious courses which spring from vice. I prefer to use the word vice rather than badness to express the Greek xaxiau.

XII. ‘Your language is indeed luminous, Cato,’ said I, ‘and expresses clearly your meaning! So in my eyes you are teach- ing philosophy to speak Latin and are, if I may say so, conferring on her our franchise, for hitherto she was always thought to be a mere foreigner in Rome and to be shy of entering into conversa- tion in our language, and particularly your own form of philoso- phy, because of a certain highly polished subtlety both in matter and in language. I know indeed that there are men who can play the philosopher in any tongue you please, since they use no sub-divisions and no definitions, and themselves assert that they are only securing approval for opinions to which nature assents even if no word be uttered ; and so as they deal with notions that are far from profound they do not toil much over their argument. Thus I give you my earnest attention and learn off by heart any terms you apply to the subject-matter of our conversation, for I shall perhaps have soon to make use of these same terms myself. Now in my opinion you were thoroughly right and in accord with the usages of our native tongue when you laid down that the vices are the opposites of the virtues. What deserves in itself to be vilified was I think for that very reason called vice, or perhaps from the word vice came the phrase to be vilified. But if you had- used the word malitia, Latin usage would at once lead us up to the idea of a single definite vice; as things are, vice is opposed to virtue as a whole, its name implying virtue’s opposite. Then he said ‘now we have thus laid down our prin- ciples, there follows a serious struggle, which has been carried on in a spiritless way by the Peripatetics (you know their cus- `` tomary style is not subtle enough because they are ignorant of logic) and so your friend Carneades has by his very splendid practice in logical discussions and his fine eloquence imperilled the issue to a high degree, because he never ceased to contend that in this whole inquiry which is described as relating to things good and things bad, the dispute between the Stoics and Peri- patetics is not one turning on realities but on words. But to me there seems nothing so self-evident as that these opinions of the philosophers I have named are divided from one another more by reason of their substance than by reason of their expression; I assert that between the Stoics and Peripatetics the divergence is much greater in doctrine than in terms, since the Peripatetics maintain that all the objects which they themselves call good are esséntial to happiness, while our school do not think that a life of happiness is furnished forth with every possession which deserves to have assigned to it a certain value.

XIII. Well, can anything be more sure than this, that on the principles of those who class pain as an evil, the wise man cannot be happy whenever he is tormented on the rack? But those who do not consider pain to be an evil are surely bound by their principles to believe that the happiness of the wise man is kept intact through all tortures. Further, if the same pains are found easier to endure by those who submit to them for their country’s sake than by those who do so on some slighter ground, then it is fancy, and not nature, that increases or diminishes the power of pain. Nor again, supposing that, as there are three classes of things good (this is the belief of the Peripatetics) each man is happy in proportion as he abounds in bodily and external goods, does it accord with our doctrine to hold the same view, so that a man who has more of the objects which are valued in connexion with the body should be happier. For they think that the life of happiness is furnished forth with bodily advantages, while our school are as far as possible from so thinking. Now as we believe that life is not rendered happier. or more desirable or more valuable even by the numerousness of those things which we call really good, the quantity of bodily advantages has certainly small bearing on the happy life.

Moreover, if wisdom and health were both desirable objects, the combination of the two would be more desirable than wisdom alone, yet, supposing the two to deserve to be valued, the com- bination would not be more highly esteemed than wisdom itself taken apart. For we who pronounce that health to a certain extent deserves to be valued, and yet do not give it a place among things good, also declare that it has no value of such im- portance as to cause it to be preferred to virtue; now this is a position the Peripatetics do not maintain, for they are bound to say that a course of action which is moral and at the same time painless is more desirable than the same course of action would be if attended by pain. We think differently, whether rightly or wrongly we shall see by and by; but can there be a greater disagreement in substantial matters?

XIV. Just as the light of a lamp is darkened and drowned in the sun’s beams and just as a drop of honey is lost in the vastness of the Aegean sea, and as in the wealth of Croesus an added farthing is imperceptible and a single step in the distance from here to India, so, if the ultimate good has the nature the Stoics give it, all that value which bodily advantages possess must inevitably be darkened and overwhelmed and lost in the blaze and vastness of virtue. And just as seasonableness (so let us translate evxacpia) does not grow greater by prolongation of time, since things which are called seasonable have assigned to them their proper limit, in the same way right accom-plishment, for so I render xarop@wats, since xatépOwpa is a single right action, well then, right accomplishment and har- mony of conduct also, and in a word the good itself, which depends on agreement with nature, admits of no increase. Just as is the case with that quality of seasonableness, so the things I have mentioned do not grow more important by prolongation of time, and for that reason the Stoics do not consider a life of happiness more an object of wish or desire, though it be long, than if it were brief; and they use an illustration: just as, on the supposition that the one merit of a buskin is exactly to fit the foot, a larger number of buskins would not be preferred to a smaller, nor those of larger size to those of smaller size, so in the case of matters whose whole quality of goodness is defined by their harmony and seasonableness, neither will a greater number of them be preferred to a smaller, nor a longer duration of them to a shorter. Nor do people shew much cleverness when they say that if good health were allowed to deserve a higher value when long continued than when transient, then the most protracted enjoyment of wisdom also would be the most valuable. They do not see that the value of health is tested by its duration, that of virtue by its seasonableness, so that those who make this assertion seem just the men to declare that a good death and a good childbirth would be better if protracted than if they lasted a short time. They do not perceive that some things are assigned a higher value the sooner they pass away, but other things, the longer they last. Thus so far as the principles of those go, who think that the highest good, which we call the ultimate, the supreme good, is capable of increase, it is only consistent with the doctrines already stated for them also to believe that one man is actually wiser than another, and further that one man is a sinner or is virtuous in a higher degree than another, a conclusion which we who refuse to believe that the highest good is capable of increase are not free to maintain. Just as those who are immersed in water cannot breathe more easily when they are so close to the surface, as to be on the very point of finding themselves able to put their heads out, than if at that very moment they lay at a great depth, and just as a puppy which is on the very verge of receiving its sight cannot distinguish objects any more than another which is only just born, so a man who has made considerable progress towards the possession of virtue is not at all less in a condition of wretchedness than another who has made no progress at all. XV. I know that these statements are thought to be para- doxes, but the premisses being assuredly strong and true, and the inferences in harmony and consistent with the premisses, we cannot question the truth of the inferences either. But though the Stoics refuse to allow that either the virtues or the vices are capable of increase, yet they hold that both of them admit of a sort of extension and expansion, so to speak. Diogenes gives it as his opinion that while wealth not only has the power of almost guiding men to pleasure and to good health, but is the essential condition of those states, it does not perform the same function in the case of virtue and the other arts, to which money may act as a guide, but of which it cannot be an indispensable con- comitant; so he holds that if pleasure and good health be placed among things good, wealth must be placed there too; but if wisdom be good, then it does not follow that we should maintain wealth also to be good. Nor can the existence of any- thing which belongs to the class of things good be bound up with the existence of anything which does not belong to that class, and on that account, because the elements of knowledge and our certain perceptions of external objects, out of which the arts are constructed, set in motion our impulses, no art can be indissolubly connected with wealth, seeing that wealth does not belong to the class of things good. But even if we were to admit this supposition concerning the arts, still the same principle would not apply to virtue, because it requires a vast amount of meditation and practice, which is not equally true of the arts, and because virtue involves the sureness, solidity and consistency of life as a whole, and we do not find these accompaniments to the same extent in the case of the arts.

Next in order is given an exposition of the difference of value between things, and if we were to assert that no difference exists, all our life would be made chaotic, as by Aristo, nor would there be found any function or task for wisdom to perform, there being no distinctions of value whatever among the things which concern the conduct of life, and no obligation to exercise any discrimination. So while on the one hand it was sufficiently established that what is moral is alone good, and that what is vicious is alone evil, so on the other these philosophers pronounced that nevertheless distinctions do exist between those things which are without influence upon happi- ness, so that some of them have positive value, some negative,

l and some neither. Of those things which deserve to have as- signed to them a positive value, they say one class consists of those important enough to be preferred to certain others, health for example, soundness of the senses, freedom from pain, fame, wealth and the like things, while another class is not in the same case; and, in the same manner, of those which can only claim a negative value, some supply us with sufficient reason for rejecting them, pain for example, disease, loss of the senses, poverty, disgrace, and the like, while others do not. Hence arose what Zeno termed mponypévov, with its opposite which he called dzromponypévor, for though his native tongue was rich, he adopted artificial and new-fangled terms, which we who speak this poverty-stricken language are not permitted to do, though you oftentimes say that ours is the richer of the two. But with a view to more readily grasping the force of these terms, it is not out of place to explain the principle which Zeno followed when he constructed them. XVI. Just as no one asserts (these are his words) that in a palace the prince himself is, as it were, preferred to honour (for that is what mponypévoy means) but rather that those have been so preferred who have some official rank, and whose station brings them close to the princely dignity, and is only second to it, so in life we must speak not of those things which are in the front rank, but of those which hold a secondary position as mponypeva, that is as preferred; and let us either use this phrase (which will be a literal translation) or speak of things advanced and things degraded or, as we said some time back, leading or important things, the opposite class being things rejected. If facts be clearly understood, we are bound to be complacent as to the adoption of phrases. Now since we say that everything which is good holds a front rank, it follows inevitably that what we denote as a thing preferred or leading thing is neither good nor evil, and we define such a thing as that which is essentially indifferent, yet has a tolerable amount of value; for it has struck me to call indifferent what the Greeks call advagopov. Nor could it by any means have been brought about that nothing either in harmony with or in disagreement with nature should be admitted to fill the class of things indifferent, nor that, such things being admitted, not one of them should be classed as having a tolerable amount of value, nor, when this is once allowed, that there should not be some things which are advanced. This classification then has been laid down with justice; and to make the matter easier to be understood, they offer this illustration; for, say they, just as if we imagine it to be a kind of end or aim to cast a die go that it may stand right side uppermost, any die which is thrown so as to fall with its right side uppermost [yet not so as to stand so] will have about it something which is ad- vanced towards the attainment of the end, and any die thrown otherwise will be in the opposite condition, and yet that advancement of the die will have nothing to do with the actual attainment of the end, in the same way things which are ad- vanced are said to be so with reference to the end; yet they stand in no relation to the end in its essence and nature.

Next comes the distinction whereby things good are divided into those which are closely connected: with the. highest end (I thus describe what the Greeks call teAcxa; for let us establish this practice upon which we have agreed, of denoting by several expressions what we find it impossible to denote by one expression so as to make the sense clear) while others are means, which the Greeks call vrounrixa, and others are both ends and means. Belonging to the class of goods closely connected with the end, there is no good excepting moral eonduct, belonging to the class of means, none but the friend, but these philosophers lay it down that wisdom both directly bears on the end and is also a means. For inasmuch as wisdom is harmony of conduct, it belongs to the class of things which involve the end, of which I have spoken; while in that it brings with it and is the means to moral actions, it may be termed a means.

XVII. The things which we style preferred are in part preferred on their own account, in part on account of some result they produce, in part because of both these reasons; things pre- ferred on their own account are for example a certain style of feature and expression, and also certain attitudes and move- ments, in connexion with which matters there are certain things to be preferred and certain others to be declined ; other things again, money fur example, will acquire the name preferred for the reason that they are productive of some result, others however in both ways, as for instance sound senses and good health. As to fair fame (since it is preferable at this point to represent evdo£ia by fair fame, rather than by glory) Chrysippus, you must know, and Diogenes maintained that, apart from its usefulness, it would not be worth while to put out a finger to take it, and I give these philosophers my emphatic assent. Those however who came after their time, being unable to withstand the onset of Carneades, declared that fair fame was in itself and for its own sake preferred and worthy of choice, and that a man who was free born and generously nurtured naturally desired to be of good report in the eyes of his parents, of his relations, and of good men too, and that for the sake of the thing itself, not on account of its utility, and they assert that just as we desire to secure the interests of children, even though they will be born after we are gone, from our love of them in themselves, so we must take thought for the reputation we are to have even though it be after death, and that on account of the thing itself, even though it is destitute of utility. But although we say that what is moral is alone good, still it is consistent with this doctrine that we should perform all appropriate actions, though we place actions having that character neither in the category of good nor in that of evil. In matters of this kind there is something which is deserving of approval, and of course such that a reasonable account of it can be rendered, and therefore when something has actually been done in a way to deserve ap- proval a reasonable account can be rendered of it; now appro- piate action is anything which has been so done that a reason deserving approval can be assigned to it; this makes it clear that there is a kind of middling action, which is neither classed with things good nor with their opposites. And since those matters which we class neither as virtues nor as vices, neverthe- less include some things which may be of advantage, we must not throw away such things. There is moreover a certain kind of action which concerns this class of things, action such that in these cases reason requires us to perform it and carry it into execution ; and what has been done on reason’s prompting we call appropriate action; appropriate action is therefore of such a kind that we class it neither with things good nor with their opposites.

XVIII. This too is evident, that the wise man has some . actions to perform which concern those indifferent things. When therefore he performs such an action, he delivers his opinion that it s an appropriate action. But since he is never mistaken in his deliverances, there will be appropriate action concerned with indifferent things; and this result is arrived at also by the following proof: inasmuch as we see that there is something to which we give the name of right action, and that is appropriate action carried to perfection, there will be also a form of appro- priate action which is imperfect; for example, if to return trust funds from just motives were placed among right actions, the mere restoration of trust funds would be classed as belonging to appropriate actions; for with the addition of the phrase from just motives the action becomes a right action, though in itself the mere act of restoration is put down as an appropriate action. And as it is unquestionable that among the things which we term indifferent some are worthy of choice, some of rejection, every action which is done or is spoken of in connexion with this principle, is entirely included within the bounds of appro- priate action. From this it is seen that, inasmuch as all men by nature love themselves, the unwise man and the wise man alike will choose those things which accord with nature, and reject their opposites. So there is a certain appropriate action which is the meeting ground of the wise and the unwise man; this shews that it is concerned with the field of things which we call indifferent. But since these indifferent things form the starting point for all appropriate actions, it is not without reason said that they constitute the test for deciding on all our plans, and among them those about departure from life and continuance in life. When the bulk of a man’s cir- cumstances are in accord with nature, it is appropriate for him to remain in life; when the balance is on the other side, or seems likely to be so, it is appropriate for such a man to quit life. ‘This proves that it is sometimes appropriate for the wise man to quit life though he is in possession of happiness, and for the fool to continue in life, though wretched. For that good and that evil of which we have already often spoken are secondary products, while those elementary natural circumstances, whether prosperous or adverse, are submitted to the wise man’s judgment and discrimination, and are, so to say, the subject-matter of wisdom. So any plan for continuing in life or departing from it is entirely to be estimated with reference to those matters of which I have spoken above. For it is not virtue that keeps a man among the living, nor are those who are destitute of virtue bound to seek for death. So it is often an appropriate action for the wisc man to turn his back on life, though enjoying happiness to the full, if he can do it seasonably, that is consistently with a life in harmony with nature, since these philosophers are of opinion that seasonable- ness is the characteristic of happiness. And so wisdom herself enjoins upon the wise man that he should leave her if need re- quire. Thus inasmuch as vice has not the effect of affording a motive for suicide, it is plain that the appropriate course even for fools, who are ipso facto wretched, is to continue in life if they are surrounded by circumstances, the majority of which are, as we phrase it, in accord with nature. And seeing that the fool, whether he quits life or continues in it, is equally wretched, and long duration does not make life any more for him a matter to be avoided, it is not without reason main- tained that men who can enjoy a preponderance of things in accord with nature must continue in life.

XIX. These philosophers believe it to be important for our purpose to understand that nature prompts parents to love their offspring. It is to this principle that we trace the com- mencement of the association of the human race into commu- nities. Now this principle must in the first place become clear from the structure and parts of the body, which themselves shew that nature has designed the continuance of the race; while the two statements that nature desired offspring and yet was indifferent about the love of offspring, could never be made consistent with one another. And so even in brutes the power of nature can be conspicuously seen ; and when we discern the distress they suffer in the production and in the rearing of their young, we believe ourselves to be listening to the cry of nature herself. So while it is plain that nature causes us to recoil from pain, yet it is evident that nature herself instigates us to love those of whose being we are the authors. Hence it arises that men feel a general attraction inspired by nature towards one another, so that a man is bound to think himself no stranger to his fellow man, owing to the mere fact of a common humanity. Just as among our bodily parts some have been as it were created for themselves, the eyes for instance and the ears, while others contribute to the advantage of the remaining parts, the legs for example and the hands, so certain monstrous creatures are born to live for themselves, but that creature which lives in a broad shell and is called a sea-pen, and also the animal which is called the sea-pen’s guardian because it keeps watch over it, that sails out of the shell, and retreats into the shell on its return, so that it seems to have given the sea-pen warning to be on its guard, and in the same way ants, bees, and storks all do some actions for the sake of others. This union between human beings is much closer. And so we -are formed by nature for congress, for combination, and for common life. It is the opinion of these philosophers that the universe is controlled by a divine will and is, if we may say so, a city and community shared by gods and men, and that every individual among us is a member of this universe, from which naturally follows this conclusion, that we should place the general interest before our own. Just as the statutes place the security of the nation before that of individuals, so a man who is good and wise and obedient to the statutes and is not _ unaware of what behoves him as a citizen, takes more thought for the general interest than for that of some definite person, or his own. . Nor is one who is a traitor to his country more reprehensible than he who to assure his own interest and his own security turns his back on the interest or security of the com- monwealth. Hence any one is meritorious who confronts death on behalf of the nation, because it is fitting that our country should be more precious to us than our own lives. And since that speech is regarded as cruel and abominable, wherein men declare that they do not mind if, on their own death, a universal consumption of the world by fire should ensue (an opinion to which expression is usually given in a certain hack- neyed Greek line) the conclusion surely is true that we should take thought for those who are to live after us, for their own sake merely.

XX. This attitude of our minds gives rise to wills and trusts executed by men on the point of death. And whereas no one would choose to pass away his life in absolute loneliness, even if attended by a limitless supply of pleasures, it is easy to see that we came into being in order to combine and associate with our fellow men and to form a society after nature’s law. Nature herself inspires in us the desire to do good to as many men as possible, and particularly by instructing them and imparting to them the principles of wisdom, And so it is not easy to find any one who refuses to impart to another what he knows himself: such a bent have we not only towards receiving but towards imparting instruction. And exactly as by natural instinct cattle fight with the utmost energy and vigour in defence of their young against lions, so nature impels to protect the human race those who are strong in resources, and have the power to do so, as we learn from story in the case of Hercules and Liber. And when we give to Jove the titles best and greatest, and again god of health, god of friend- ship, god of safety, we wish it to be understood that the security of mortals depends on his guardian care. Now it is entirely inconsistent to demand that the eternal gods should hold us dear and love us though we are cheap and unregarded in the eyes of each other. Therefore exactly as we use our bodily parts before we have been taught the useful purpose for which they were given us, so nature has linked and bound us one with another in social fellowship. And if this were not so, there would be no room either for justice or for kindness. And as on the one hand the Stoics believe that men are bound to their fellow men by bonds of law, so on the other they think that no law binds men to the brute creation. Chrysippus well says indeed that for the use of men and gods all other things exist, and these exist for association and fellowship among themselves, so that without wrong men may, to secure advantage to them- selves, employ the services of animals, And inasmuch as the nature of man is so constituted that the individual is connected with the whole race by a sort of civil law, he who supports that law will be just, he who contravenes it unjust. But as, although the theatre belongs to all, it s right to say that the place which each man has taken belongs to him, so in the general city or universe the law docs not forbid that each man should have his own property. Now as we see that the individual man is born for the support and protection of mankind, it is consistent with the purpose of his nature that the wise man should desire to par- ticipate in and conduct public affairs, and that, to enable him to live as nature directs, he should take to himself a wife and desire issue by her. Nor do our philosophers think that the passion of love, if pure, is foreign to the person of the wise man. Some Stoics say that the Cynic principle and their mode of life befit the wise man, if any circumstances like theirs come upon him, others think this is by no means the case.

XXI. With the view of maintaining the communion, fel- lowship and affection which bind every man to every other, the Stoics have laid it down that benefits and injuries (which they call wdeAnuara and BrAappata) are universal in their effect, the one class being beneficial and the other class harm- ful; and they have asserted them all to be not only universal, but also of equal value. Conveniences however and inconveniences (for so I render evypnotnuata and dvaoypnotnpata) they have declared to be universal, but denied to be equal in value. Those actions which are beneficial and those which are harm- ful are in the one case good and in the other evil, and so must inevitably be all of equal value, while conveniences and inconveniences are things of the kind to which we applied the names preferred and rejected, and these things may be of unequal value. Now benefits are asserted to be universal, while right actions and sins are not held to be universal. Friendship, they pronounce, is to be welcomed because it belongs to the class of things which confer benefit. Now though in the case of friend- ship some maintain that the circumstances of the friend are as dear to the wise man as his own, while others hold that each man’s own circumstances must be to him dearer, still the latter class too allow it to be inconsistent with justice, for which we are believed to exist, that any one should strip another man of something in order to appropriate it to his own use. The theory that either justice or friendship is acquired or adopted with a view to profit finds absolutely no favour with the school of which I am speaking. For profit will be strong enough again to undermine and ruin them. Indeed it will be altogether impossible for either justice or friendship to exist, unless they be desired for their own worth. Now law, so far as it can be called and styled by that name, exists, they say, naturally ; and it is abhorrent to the wise man, not merely to do wrong, but even to do harm to any one. Nor is it right to associate or combine with friends or benefactors to commit wrong; and it is maintained with very great dignity and truth, that equity can never be severed from utility and that whatever is equitable and just is also moral, and vice versa whatever is moral will be also just and equitable. And to those virtues of which we have already discoursed, they add also dialectic and natural science, and describe them both by the name virtue, the former because it establishes principles which save us from assenting to any falsity, or from ever being deluded by any deceptive plausibility, and enables us to cling to and uphold the lessons we have learned about matters good and evil, for without this science they think it possible that any man whatever may be seduced from the truth and deluded. With justice then, if a general recklessness and ignorance are vicious, has this science, which does away with them, been entitled a virtue. XXII. The same honour has not without reason been bestowed on natural science, because he who is to live a life in harmony with nature must start from a survey of the universe, and of its government. Nor indeed can any man pass. a fair opinion upon things good and things evil, unless he has discovered the principles that govern nature and govern too the life of the gods, and whether or no the nature of man accords with the nature of the All. And as to the ancient maxims propounded by the wise men, who bid us bow to opportunity and to follow after God, and to know ourselves, and to exceed in nothing, the force of these (and they have very great force) no one can see apart from natural science. And only this branch of inquiry can teach us the power nature exerts in the cultivation of justice, in the main- tenance of friendship, and of the other affections, Nor, unless nature is revealed to us, can we understand the meaning of filial reverence to the gods, nor the extent of the debt which we owe to them. But I now perceive that I have allowed myself to be carried away farther than the plan I laid down required me to go. But I was drawn away by the wonderful orderliness of the system, and the marvellous arrangement of its topics, and I ask you with all solemnity whether you do not admire it? What can you find either in nature, who is unsurpassed for symmetry and exactness, or in the works of men’s hands, which is so well ordered and constructed and fitted together? What minor premiss is there which does not suit its major premiss, or what conclusion which does not follow from the premisses ? At what point are the arguments not so linked together that if you displace a single letter the whole chain falls to ees And yet there is nothing which can be displaced.

But how lofty, how splendid, how unwavering the the wise man is shewn to be! He, inasmuch as true reason has proved to him that what is moral is alone good, must of necessity enjoy perpetual happiness and must in very truth be in possession of all those titles which the ignorant love to deride. He will be styled a king by a fairer right than Tarquin, who was too feeble to govern either himself or his people, and lord of the nation (for such is the dictator) by a fairer claim than Sulla, who was lord of three baneful vices, self-indulgence, greed, and barbarity, rich by a fairer title than Crassus, who but for his wants would never have sought to cross the Euphrates, without reason for declaring war. It will be right to say that all things are his, who alone knows bow to use all things; right to call him beautiful, since the features of the mind are fairer than those of the body; right to name him the only freeman, for he bows to no tyranny nor yields to any passion; right to. declare him invincible, since though his body may be chained no shackles can be cast round his mind. Nor would he ever wait for any period of life, that the question whether he has enjoyed happiness may be decided after he has spent in dying the last day of his existence ; such was the far from wise advice given to Croesus by one of the seven wise men. For if he ever had been happy he would have carried his happiness with him to the funeral pyre built for him by Cyrus. Now if it is true that no one but the good man is happy and all good men are happy, what is there more deserving of worship than philosophy or more divinely glorious than virtue ?’

END OF BOOK III,

4. BOOK IV - Against The Stoics

With these words he ceased. Then I said, ‘indeed, Cato, you have set forth your argument with great power of memory, if we look to its extent, and luminously, considering its profundity. So let me either abandon altogether any desire to controvert it, or let me take some time for reflection; for it is no easy task to learn thoroughly a system which has not only been grounded but built up with such thoroughness, perhaps not on truths (though I do not yet venture to say so much) but still with painstaking. Then he answered, ‘do you say so ? While I see you reply to the prosecutor’s speech, according to the provisions of this new statute, on the same day on which it was delivered, and wind up your own in the space of three hours, do you expect me to grant you an adjournment in the present case? And in any event you will find it no better to argue than some are which you sometimes win. So address yourself to this case also, with the more confidence, in that it has often already been handled both by others and by yourself, so that you can- not possibly be at a loss what to say. Then I said, ‘in good sooth, I am not fond of lightly attacking the Stoics; not be- cause I agree with them very much; but modesty prevents me; they make so many statements I find it hard to grasp. ‘I ad- mit,’ said he, ‘that certain doctrines are difficult; though they are not purposely made so by the mode of statement; on the contrary the difficulty lies in the subject-matter itself? ‘ How is it then,’ said I, ‘that when the Peripatetics deal with the same subject-matter, I do not find a word that I cannot grasp?’ ‘The same subject-matter?’ said he; ‘why, have I not argued strongly enough that the Stoics do not differ from the Peripatetics in phraseology only, but over the whole field and throughout their entire doctrines?’ ‘But, Cato,’ said I, ‘if you make good your point, you shall carry me over entirely to your side.’ ‘For my part,’ said he, ‘I thought I had said enough. So pray answer my statements on this head first, if you so please, or afterwards, if you prefer another course.’ ‘No,’ said I, ‘I shall use my own judgment on that subject unless you think me unreasonable, and shall take each matter as it turns up.’ ‘As you please, said he; ‘though my proposal was more suitable, still it is fair to let each man have his own way.’

II. ‘Well then, Cato, said I, ‘I think that Plato’s pupils of old time, Speusippus, Aristotle and Xenocrates, and their pupils again, Polemo and Theophrastus, possessed a system which was formulated with perfect fulness and exactness, so that there was no reason why Zeno, having been a pupil of Polemo, should dissent from his own master and from those who went before him; now the outlines of their system I am about to describe, and I want you to notice anything you think ought to be altered and not to look for an answer from me to everything you said, since I judge that their scheme as a whole should be pitted against yours as a whole. Now these philosophers, seeing we are so constituted by nature, that we one and all are suited for the cultivation of those virtues which are far famed and conspicuous, I mean justice, temperance and the others of the same description (all of which resemble the other arts, and are separated from them only by their finer subject-matter and treatment) and seeing our yearning after these same virtues to be accompanied by much greatness of soul and enthusiasm, seeing further that we have a deeply rooted or rather inbred passion for knowledge, and exist for association with our fellow men and for union and fellowship with mankind, and that these tendencies are most conspicuous in the highest intellects, distributed the whole of philosophy into three branches, a division which, as we know, Zeno renamed. Now one of these divisions being the art whereby it is deemed that character is moulded, I delay to speak of this division, which forms so to speak, the tap root of our inquiry, for I shall by and by discuss what the ultimate good is; at this point I only say thus much, that the old Peripatetics and Academics, who, though essentially at one, were at vari- ance in their terminology, dealt seriously and fully with the topic which I think we shall be right in describing as that which treats of society (the Greeks call it aroActexov).

III. At what length did they write upon statesmanship, upon legislation! How many maxims they laid down in their trea- tises, and also how many models of eloquence did they bequeath to us in their speeches! In the first place, they stated in re- fined and felicitous terms precisely those doctrines which needed accurate discussion, now using definitions now divisions, as your school also does, but you do it in rougher fashion; you see how bright their style is. In the next place, how loftily, how brilliantly did they discourse on matters which called for a rich and dignified style! What they wrote of justice, temperance, courage, friendship, the conduct of life, philo- sophy, the practice of statesmanship, came from men who were no splitters of hairs like the Stoics, no skinners of flints, but from men who chose to state high arguments in rich, and the lesser doctrines in lucid language. And so how fine are their consolatory writings, their exhortations, the warnings and advice too that they addressed to the most illustrious persons! Their practice in oratory was twofold, as is the nature of the themes themselves. For every matter of inquiry involves either a dispute about a mere general question apart from par- ticular characters or occasions, or, when these are taken into account, a dispute concerning a question of fact or a point of law, or the appellation of the fact. Well then, they were trained in both kinds, and this exercise was the cause of the extraordinary richness of their oratory in both depart- ments. This entire field Zeno and his followers have certainly neglected, either from lack of capacity or lack of inclination. Yet Cleanthes wrote a treatise on rhetoric, and Chrysippus too, but in such fashion that any one who has conceived a desire to become dumb has only to read it. You see, then, in what style they talk. They trump up new words and abandon those that are familiar. But what tasks they set themselves !

The whole universe they say is the township to which we belong. You see what an important business it is; it enables an inhabitant of Circeii to suppose that our whole universe is his own country town. So the hearts of the listeners are set on fire. What? Set on fire? The Stoic is more likely to quench his pupil, if he receives him all aflame. The very theories of which you gave a brief description, that the wise man is the only king, dictator and capitalist, were treated by you in neat and rounded periods; of course, since you get them from the teachers of rhetoric; but how poor are the deliverances of your school about the potency of virtue, which they make out to be so great that it can of itself render its possessor happy! They prick people with tiny cramped arguments like pins: and even the men who give to these their assent are not a whit changed at heart, but go away just as they came; since doc- trines which are perhaps true, and assuredly important, are not handled as they should be, but in a far too petty style.

IV. We now come to the principles of logic and scientific inquiry; for we shall look to the supreme good presently, as I said, and shall direct the whole discussion to its elucidation. Well, in these two branches of philosophy there existed no reason why Zeno should hanker after change; for matters were in a splendid condition, and I say so of both branches alike. What point in that department which bears upon logic was missed by the ancients? They laid down plenty of definitions and left behind them formal treatises on definition; and the division of a class into species, which is closely connected with definition, is not only practised by them, but they impart the proper method for the process ; so too they dealt with the opposite processes, which enabled them to mount upwards to the species and the classes which contain the species. Further they declare the self-evident impressions, as they call them, to be the source of syllogistic proof; then they attend to the arrangement of the premisses: the final conclusion shews what the true inference is in each case. What a number they propose of dif- ferent proofs which arrive at their conclusion by reasoning, and how unlike these are to the sophistical arguments! Think again how in very many passages they give us almost formal warning not to look for truth in the senses apart from reason, nor in the reason apart from the senses, and never to disjoin one of these - things from the other! Why! Were not the rules which logicians now teach and demonstrate, established by them? Though Chrysippus toiled immensely over these, yet they were far less regarded by Zeno than by the ancients, and Chrysippus treated some matters no better than the older men, while some he left untouched altogether. And there being two arts whereby reason and speech receive their full developement, one the art of discovery, the other the art of discourse; the latter has been taught by both Stoics and Peripatetics, while as regards the former the Peripatetics have left us brilliant maxims, but the Stoics have never even dabbled in it. Your friends have never dreamed about the regions from which proofs were to be drawn as though from treasure-houses, while the earlier philosophers bequeathed to us the art and method thereof. It is this art that frees us from the need of always harping upon an old lesson, so to speak, concerning the same themes, and of never getting away from our note-books, For he who knows where each argument lies, and by what road he is to approach it, will be able, even if anything lies below the surface, to disinter it, and always to shew originality in a debate. Although some men who are gifted with extraordinary natural parts do attain to a full style of oratory apart from theory, yet art is‘a more unerring guide than nature. It is one thing to pour out words after the manner of poets, quite another by the aid of theory and practice to use discrimination about your language.

V. The same statements may be made concerning the elucidation of natural phenomena, which your school and the ancients alike undertake, and that not merely for the two reasons which commend themselves to Epicurus, the banishment . of the fear of death and of superstition; but inquiry into the heavenly bodies inspires also a sense of moderation in those who see how great self-control the gods exert, and how vast is their orderliness, while the discernment of the divine functions and achievements produces highmindedness, and justice arises when we thoroughly understand what the will of our supreme ruler and lord is like, what are his plans, what are his feelings; and when reason has been brought into harmony with his nature then philosophers say the true and paramount law exists. In the elucidation of nature again we find a certain inexhaustible pleasure springing from the acquisition of knowledge; and in this pleasure alone, after performing our inevitable duties, when once freed from troubles, can we live a moral and generous life. So in their theories on these matters from first to last the Stoics have followed the ancients upon nearly all the most important points, declaring both that gods exist and that the universe is composed of four elements. And whereas a very difficult matter was under discussion, whether it was to be decided that there is a certain fifth substance, which gives rise to reason and understanding, an inquiry embracing the nature of the soul, Zeno said it consisted of fire; he then made changes in some other points, but very few; on the most important matter of all he gave out identical opinions, that by the divine intellect and divine nature the whole universe and its chief parts are governed. But the store of doctrines and resources pos- sessed by the one school we shall find to be poor, by the other most abundant. How many facts did the ancients observe and record about the family, the origin, the parts, the lives of ani- mals of every kind, how many too about the vegetable world ? How numerous and how manifold in their application are not only the causes they assigned for each phenomenon, but also their proofs of the mode in which it occurs! And out of all this abundance we can take numerous proofs of the highest cer- tainty, which make clear the construction of each individual object. Thus up to this point, so far as I see, we must believe that no reason existed for any change of name, for it does not follow, just because he did not accept every doctrine, that he did not owe his origin to the old school. For my part I think that Epicurus too, in science at least, belongs to Democritus ; he makes a few changes or a large number if you like; but on the majority of subjects he holds the same language, and assuredly on the most important. And while your friends do just the same, they do not bestow upon their founders any very great amount of gratitude.

VI. But enough of this. Now, if you please, with regard to the supreme good, which is the essence of philosophy, let us see what contribution he actually did make, such as justified him in his schism against his own founders, and I might almost say his forefathers. At this point, though you, Cato, have given a careful explanation of the nature of their ethical standard and of the terms applied to it by the Stoics, yet I will give a fresh account of it, that we may clearly understand, if we find that possible, what new contributions were made by Zeno. Now whereas the earlier school, and Polemo most un- mistakeably, had pronounced the supreme good to be life in accordance with nature, the Stoics maintain that this formula is capable of three interpretations, one somewhat thus: life accompanied by a knowledge of the operations of nature; this they say is the very final good indicated by Zeno, being equiva- lent to your doctrine of life in harmony with nature; the second interpretation amounts to putting it thus: life devoted to the performance of all or most of the ordinary appropriate actions. This explanation of the doctrine ditfers from that which pre- cedes it, for the one formerly given implies right action (which you called xarópfwpa) and suits the lot of the wise man alone; while the one now put forward refers to a sort of crude form of duty and not a perfect form, and so can concern some who are not wise men. The third interpretation is this: life in the enjoyment of all or the most important of the things which are in accord with nature. This does not follow on anything we do ourselves; it depends for its fulfilment on that form of life which is attended by the enjoyment of virtue, and on those objects which accord with nature and are not subject to our wills. But the supreme good indicated by the third interpretation, along with the kind of life which is lived as a consequence of that supreme good, falls within the province of the wise man alone, because it is closely connected with virtue, and this is the ultimate good which was set up by Xeno- crates and Aristotle, as we see the Stoics admit in their writings. So that ground plan of nature with which you too started is explained by them almost in the following terms, VII. The constitution of every creature inclines it to self-preservation, to the end that it may be sound and retain its position in the class to which it belongs. For this purpose they say that the sciences too have been invented, to bring aid to nature, and the chief among them is reckoned to be the science of conduct, which helps the creature to maintain whatever nature has bestowed, and to obtain that which is lacking; and further they distin- guished two divisions in the constitution of man, his mind and his body, and having declared each of these two divisions to be in itself the object of our desires, they asserted the excel- lences peculiar to each portion to be also in themselves desir- able; as they preferred mind to body owing to its boundless intrinsic worth, they preferred excellences of mind also to ad- vantages pertaining to the body. But, maintaining that wisdom exercises guardianship and supervision over the whole man, by reason of being the attendant and assistant of nature, they stated that the function of wisdom, as it has for its ward a being composed of mind and body, is to aid that being-and support him in both parts of his nature. And after placing the doctrine before us at first in this plain way, they in the rest of their statements went minutely into detail, and pronounced that the theory of bodily advantages is easy enough; about mental ad- vantages they made a more laborious inquiry, and especially discovered that among them are found the germs of justice, and they were the first of all philosophers to reason out the doctrine that the love which parents have for their offspring is a natural attribute, and (a fact which in order of time comes earlier) that nature ordains the unions of men and women, from which source spring those ties that depend on blood relationship. And starting from these elementary notions they traced the inception and the developement of all the virtues. Hence was derived elevation of soul, rendering it easy for men to resist and repel fortune, for the reason that the most import- ant matters lie within the wise man’s own control. .A life grounded upon the maxims of the old philosophers easily tri- umphed over the fickleness and wrongfulness of fortune. Out of the elements imparted by nature arose a rich harvest of blessings which in part resulted from the consideration of the mysteries of nature, due to the passion for knowledge inbred in the mind, which passion produced the desire for a theory of reason and of discourse ; and as man is the only animal which naturally shares the sense of honour and modesty, and yearns after a common life and social union, and in all his actions and words is anxious that nothing should be done by him unless in a moral and seemly fashion, —wel!, starting from these elements, or, as I called them before, these germs bestowed on us by nature, self-control, moderation, justice, and every form of mo- rality has received its full completion.

VIII. You now understand, Cato’, said I, ‘the scheme put forward by the philosophers of whom I am speaking. Now that I have explained it I want to know what reason Zeno found for abandoning this ancient system, what part of their scheme it was to which he did not give his sanction ; whether because they declared that every creature is impelled to self- preservation, or that every animal feels a love for its own ex- istence and so desires to maintain itself sound. and unharmed in the class to which it belongs, or that inasmuch as the aim of all arts is to find that which nature strongly desires, therefore we must say the same of the art which bears on life as a whole, or that because we are composed of mind and body, these parts of our nature themselves and the excellences pertaining to them are to be chosen for their inherent worth? Or was he annoyed at the vast preeminence which was assigned to the excellences ` of the mind? Or at the statements they make about pru- dence, knowledge of phenomena, the association of mankind, and again about self-control, moderation, nobleness of soul, and every form of morality? The Stoics will allow that all these statements are splendidly put, and afforded Zeno no reason for his revolt. I suppose they will lay some other matters to the a charge of the ancients as serious sins, such that Zeno, in his - eagerness for the exploration of the truth, found it impossible to endure them. What could be more wrong-headed, more in- sufferable, more stupid than‘to class good health, freedom from all pains, soundness of the eyes and the remaining senses as things good, instead of saying that between these conditions and those opposite to them there is no difference whatever? All those things, Zeno said, which the ancients called good, are preferable, not good; and in the same way the ancients had been foolish in asserting that all bodily excellences were in themselves desirable, since they are rather chowceworthy than desirable; finally, a whole life based on virtue alone was not surpassed in desirability, but only in choiceworthiness by a life enriched in addition with all the other possessions which are in agreement with nature, and though virtue herself is so en- ‘tirely the cause of happiness that he who possesses her cannot possibly be happier, still the wise men, at the very moment of their highest happiness, yet lack some things, and so make it their business to defend themselves from pain, disease, and weakness.

IX. What splendid intellectual power! How sufficient a reason for the creation of a new system! Proceed a little farther. We next come to those topics over which you shewed such a thorough scientific mastery, how unwisdom, injustice, and other moral defects are in the cases of all persons exactly alike, and how all sins are exactly equal, and how those who by their disposition and acquirements are far advanced on the road to virtue, are supremely wretched unless they have entirely attained to it, how there is not the slightest difference whatever between the lives of such persons and those of the most con- summate scoundrels, so that Plato, great man as he was, supposing him not to have been the man of perfect wisdom, passed a life no better and no happier than any thorough- going rascal you like to name. Here we have, forsooth, a reform and improvement of the old philosophy, though one that can never possibly win its way into the city, the market, or the senate. Pray who could tolerate such speech from one who claimed to be a guide to a life of seriousness and wisdom, and while his views were the same as those of all other men, simply assigned a new terminology to doctrines whose essence he left unchanged, and merely made verbal alterations, without infringing upon the opinions in the least? Would any advocate in a case, while delivering his peroration for the prisoner at the bar, maintain that exile and forfeiture of property were no evils? That they were things to be rejected, not things to be avoided, and that no juryman ought to be merciful? If he were speaking at a public meeting, after Hannibal had marched up to the city gates and had hurled a javelin across the walls, would he declare it no evil to be taken prisoner, to be sold into slavery, to be put to death, to be cut off from one’s native land ? Or would the senate in granting Africanus a triumph be able to base its decree upon his virtue or his fortune, if no one but the wise man can be truly said to possess either virtue or fortune? What kind of philosophy is this, which in the market speaks after the fashion of ordinary men, but in its literature after a fashion of its own? This is all the stranger, as there is nothing new in the meaning which they intend their words to carry, for the doctrines remain the same though their dress is changed. What difference does it make whether you describe wealth, power, health, as things good, or as things preferred, when the man who calls these things good assigns no greater value to them than you who entitle them preferred? So Panaetius, a man of great honour and dignity, and thoroughly worthy of his friendship with Scipio and Laelius, when he addressed a book to Quintus Tubero on the subject of pain, nowhere laid down what ought to have been the fundamental proposition, had it been capable of proof, that pain is no evil, but defined its essence and qualities, and how much it comprised that was repugnant, and then in what way it might be endured; and his view, as he was a Stoic, seems to me to pass a censure on the empty phraseology of which I am speaking.

X. But, to take a closer view of your speech, let us criticise it more rigorously and compare the doctrines you stated with those which I prefer to yours. Any points which you and your school maintain in common with the ancients let us take for granted; let us debate, if you please, the topics which are matters for dispute.’ ‘I certainly agree,’ said he, ‘that we should carry on the discussion in a more refined way and, as you said your- self, more rigorously. All the considerations you have advanced as yet are to please the mob, while I expect from you some- thing in better taste. ‘You expect it from me? said I; ‘well, at all events I will try hard, and if such arguments do not suggest themselves to me in sufficient numbers, I shall not shrink from those which please the mob, as you say. But let it be postulated first that we look with favour on our own existence, and that the earliest impulse nature implants in us is the instinct of self-preservation. On this we are agreed; next w must give our attention to a knowledge of ourselves, that we may maintain ourselves in that condition which beseems us. We are, then, human beings; we are composed of body and mind, which have their own definite constitution, and it is proper for us to feel affection for these endowments, as indeed the earliest natural impulse requires of us, and on these to build up that moral purpose which constitutes the supreme and highest good; and this purpose, if our first principles are true, must be laid down to consist in the attainment of as many as possible from among the most important of those primary endowments which harmonise with nature’s plan. This then is the moral purpose to which the ancients clung; and so they believed the ultimate good to be that which I have explained at length, but which they described more tersely as life in accordance with nature.

XI. Come then, let your school explain to us (or rather you yourself; who indeed could do it better?) how it is that starting from the same fundamental ideas you arrive at the result that a moral life (which is what you mean by life according to virtue or life in harmony with nature) is the supreme good, and how or at what point you suddenly abandoned first the body, then the whole class of things which, though they are n accordance with nature, do not lie within our control, and finally appropriate action itself. I ask then how it is that these matters to which nature introduces us, important as they are, have been suddenly rejected by wisdom. Now if we were not searching for that supreme good which is suited to man, but one adapted for a creature so constituted as to consist entirely of mind (be it permitted to us to imagine some creature of the kind, that we may more easily discover the truth) still this ultimate good of your school would not suffice for the mind I am considering. It would feel the need of sound health and freedom from pain, it would also be impelled to the preservation of its own constitution and to the maintenance of these advantages, and would determine that the proper end for it to pursue is the life accord- ing to nature, which implies as I have said the acquisition of either all or most of the chief among those things which are in agreement with nature. In fact, whatever be the structure you assign to the creature, even if it be destitute of body, as we, are imagining it to be, still there needs must exist in the case of the mind certain circumstances resembling those that exist in the case of the body, so that the ultimate good cannot by any means be.constructed except in the manner I have set forth. Chrysippus again, when he is explaining the dis- tinctions between living creatures, says that some of them are eminent for their bodily powers, some again for power of mind, while some are strong on both sides; he next discusses the end which it is proper to lay down for each class of living creatures. But though he had so classified man as to assign to him in- tellectual preeminence, he established for him a supreme good of such a kind as to make it appear not that. his intellect is preeminent, but that he consists of nothing but intellect. XII. Only in one way would it be right to make the supreme good consist in virtue alone; that is if there were a creature entirely composed of mind, and its mind were of such sort that it had attached to it no natural condition resembling health. But we cannot even conceive the nature of any such creature without falling into inconsistency.

Now if they assert that the importance of certain objects is overshadowed and lost because they are very insignificant, we too grant that, and Epicurus also makes the same statement about pleasure, saying that the trivial pleasures are often over- shadowed and overwhelmed; but we cannot assign to this class of objects the bodily aptitudes, important and enduring and numerous as they are. Thus in cases where this overshadowing takes place, owing to the triviality of the objects, we often find ourselves admitting that it makes no difference to us whether the objects are in existence or not; so in the sunlight, as you kept asserting, we do not care to employ a lamp, nor do we care to add a farthing to the treasure of Croesus; in the case of objects again where so complete an overshadowing does not occur, it still may happen that their importance is not considerable. For instance when a man has lived an agree- able life for ten years, supposing an addition of a month of life equally agreeable were made, it would be a good thing, because the addition has some actual importance in respect of its agreeableness; if however the addition were not granted, it does not at once follow that the man’s happiness is de- stroyed. Now these good things which pertain to the body are more like the instance which I last gave. They bring with them an addition to happiness which is worth an effort to pro- cure; so that I sometimes think the Stoics are jesting when they say that if on the life which is spent in the pursuit of virtue a flask or a flesh-brush were bestowed, the wise man will prefer the life to which these objects have been attached, and yet that he will be not a whit happier on that account. Pray is this an illustration? Does it not deserve to be driven off by laughter rather than by debate? What man would not be most deservedly ridiculed if he vexed himself about the pre- sence or absence of a flask? But surely if one man were to cure another’s distorted limbs or his excruciating torments, he would earn great gratitude; nor would the ideal wise man, if forced by a despot to face the inquisitor’s rack, wear an ex- pression like that he would assume if he had lost a flask, but reflecting that he was entering on a serious and severe struggle, inasmuch as he saw before him a deadly battle with a baneful enemy, pain, he would summon to his aid all principles that Inspire courage and endurance, that under their protection he might proceed as I have said to that severe and serious conflict. Next we are not inquiring what objects are overshadowed or lost to view because they are to the last degree insignificant, but what objects are required to complete the tale of things good. Suppose that in the life of pleasure a single pleasure out of many is so overshadowed; for all that, insignificant though it be, it is a portion of that life which is grounded on pleasure. Amid the wealth of Croesus a single piece is lost to view; for all that it forms a part of that wealth. So let us even suppose that the objects we assert to be in agreement with nature are overshadowed in the midst of the life of happiness; only be it granted that they are parts of that life.

XIII. Further if, as we surely are bound to agree, there is a certain natural instinct which seeks after objects that are in agreement with nature, it must be proper to reckon up the sum of all such objects. If we once decide this, we shall then be free to examine at our leisure such questions as these, what -is the importance of each thing, and how great influence each exerts in producing happiness; what are those things which are lost to view, and on account of their paltriness are scarcely or perhaps not even scarcely observable. What of this: other matter, about which there is no disagreement? Surely no one ever refused to allow that the ultimate standard by which all things are judged, that is, the highest of all objects for which instinct yearns, must in the case of every creature constituted by nature shew analogies; since every nature values its own existence. Indeed what nature is there which ever abandons itself, or any portion of itself, or the natural conditions or faculties assigned to any portion of itself, or the state of change or the state of rest required by any of those objects which are in agreement with that nature? What nature was ever oblivious of the fundamental principles of its con- struction? There is assuredly none which does not preserve its own characteristics from first to last. How then did it come to pass that the nature of man (singular among natures) should disregard the human constitution by becoming oblivious of the body, and should lay down a supreme good which is concerned not with the whole man but with a part of the man? How again shall we save that principle which these philosophers themselves also allow, and which all admit, namely the analogy which that highest good, the subject of our inquiry, preserves in the case of all natures alike? Such analogy would. exist if in the case of the other natures also that faculty, which is most conspicuous in each, constituted for it the supreme good. It was in something of this kind that the supreme good of the Stoics has been held to consist. Why do you delay then to change the fundamental principles of nature? Why indeed do you say that every creature, as soon as it is born, is driven to prize its own existence, and to busy itself with the task of preserving it? Why do you not rather put it in this way, that every creature is drawn towards that which forms the most excellent part of itself, and busies itself with the guardianship of that part alone, and that the other natures carry out no other task but that of preserving what forms the most excellent portion of each? How can you speak of a most excellent portion, if no other portion is good? But if the other portions also attract our desires, why is the highest of things desirable not defined by our desire either for all desirable objects, or for the most nu- merous and the most important of them? Wisdom is like Phi- dias who may plan a statue from the first and complete it, but may also take over one that some other artist has begun, and may finish it; wisdom did not herself create man, but took him over from nature when he already existed in outline; to nature then must wisdom look in completing that statue, so to speak, of which the outlines had been already designed. What con- stitution then did nature mark out for man, and what is the office, what the function of wisdom? What is the form of that work which she must finish and complete? If in the structure which must be brought to completion there is nothing but a cer- tain intellectual activity, by which I mean the reasoning powers, then the highest good for such a being must be to live as virtue directs, for virtue is the perfect state of the reason; if there is nothing but body, the chief matters will be these, health, freedom from pain, beauty and the rest. As it is, we are inquiring what is the ultimate good for man; (XIV) why then do we hesitate to explore what good has been accomplished in connexion with his whole nature? Although it is admitted by all that the whole duty and office of wisdom is concerned with the cultiva- tion of man’s nature, yet some (you must not suppose I am speaking against the Stoics only) put forward such views that they place the supreme good in the class of objects which lie beyond our control, as though they were talking about some soulless creature, while others on the contrary, as though man possessed no body, pay no attention to anything but his mind, and are the more in error because even the mind itself is not some indefinite thing destitute of substance (indeed I cannot understand anything of the sort) but belongs to a particular kind of material substance, so that even it cannot be satisfied with virtue only but longs for freedom from pain. So both these sets of philosophers act as though they were to disregard the left side while taking care of the right, or as if they’ were to ardently accept the knowledge which the mind itself holds, like Erillus, and to neglect its activity. All those who pass by a number of matters with the intention of selecting some one to which they may attach themselves, hold a view which is maimed so to speak; but the really complete and perfect view is that of these philosophers who, as they are seeking after the supreme good for.man, have not refrained from taking under their patronage every endowment he has, whether of mind or of body. You and your friends on the other hand, Cato, because virtue, as we all confess, holds the most lofty and conspicuous position in the nature of man, and because we suppose those who are called wise men to be wholly perfect, dazzle our mental vision by the brilliance of virtue. Now in every being there is some quality which is its highest and best, in the case of the horse for example, or the dog, yet it is needful for these creatures to be free from pain and strong; similarly then in the case of man we bestow the highest praise on the perfection of that in him which is most excellent, namely ` upon his virtue. So, to my mind, you do not properly reflect what is the course of nature and what her method of advance. For when she has led man on to the rational state, she does not deal with him as she does with the corn, neglecting the green stalk and treating it as worthless, when once she has brought the ear out of the stalk. On the contrary, she always confers new gifts without abandoning those which she has bestowed at first. And so she associated reason with the senses, yet did not turn her back on the senses when she had brought reason to completion. So if viniculture, whose office is to bring the vine with all its parts into a condition as ex- cellent as possible—well then, let us so represent the matter in our thoughts, since we may, as is the habit of you and your friends too, imagine something for the sake of instruction—if then this viniculture were a power within the vine itself, it. would desire, I suppose, all those external operations which concern the culture of the vine, just as they went on before, while this power would prefer itself to all the members of the vine, and would be persuaded that the vine comprised nothing better than itself; in the same way, when the senses have been bestowed upon our nature, they protect that nature indeed, but also protect themselves; but when the gift of reason has been added, it is seated on such a throne of empire, that all those early natural endowments are placed beneath its sway. So it does not desert the guardianship of those endowments over which it is placed, and thus is bound to guide every department of life; so that I cannot express my wonderment at the inconsistency of our opponents. For that natural instinct, which they call dpyy, likewise appropriate action and even virtue herself, all these they are persuaded belong to the class of those things which are in agreement with nature. When however they desire to reach the supreme good, they overleap all obstacles, and prefer to leave us with two tasks to complete, instead of one, rather than to include both tasks under one and the same moral purpose; thus we must choose some objects and desire others.

XV. But as you people tell me, you declare that virtue cannot be firmly established, if those objects which are ex- traneous to virtue be allowed any influence upon happiness. The exact opposite is the truth, since virtue can by no means be brought upon the stage, unless all those objects which she is to select and to refuse are made to form parts of one and the same whole. Now if we are altogether careless about our own constitution, we shall fall into the errors and sins of Aristo, and shall forget those first principles which we laid down for the guidance of virtue herself; whereas if without disregarding these principles we nevertheless do not allow them to have any bearing upon the ethical standard, we shall be going astray in a way not much differing from the light-mindedness of Erillus, since we shall have to embrace two sets of maxims suited to two different lives. He in fact sets up two distinct views of the ultimate good; to make his system true, the two ought to have been combined ; now they are so kept apart as to be thoroughly divorced; and nothing can be more preposterous than this. So the case is different from your statement of it; since virtue can by no means be firmly established, unless she is to embrace those primary natural endowments as though they did contribute to the sum of things good. Virtue has been summoned not to abandon our nature but to protect it; but she, in your opinion, protects only a certain portion of it, while the rest she betrays. And if man’s fundamental scheme had itself a voice, it would say that its earliest essays, so to speak, were moved by the impulse to maintain itself in possession of that consti- tution which the man had at birth. But up to now it has not been made sufficiently clear what the most urgent desire of nature is. Let it be made clear then. How else shall we understand it, unless it be that no portion of the natural con- stitution should be disregarded? Now if this constitution comprises nothing but reason, let the final good consist in virtue alone; but if it also comprises body, this clear voice of nature is forsooth to have this result, that we should abandon those objects to which we were clinging before the voice spoke! So to live in harmony with nature means turning our backs on nature. As certain philosophers, starting from a consideration of the senses, abandoned the senses because they afterwards saw certain endowments which were grander and more godlike, so your friends, starting from our instinctive yearnings after objects, spurned from them those endowments; other than virtue herself, which they had discerned, because they had gained a view of the splendour of virtue, forgetting that | the whole natural influence of instinctive impulse has such far reaching effect as to extend from our earliest principles to our ultimate conclusions, nor do they perceive that they are under- mining the bases of those fair and marvellous faculties, of which they speak. |

XVI. And so in my view all those who have laid down that ultimate good means the life of morality, have gone astray, but in different degrees; Pyrrho, I am sure, most of all, who, placing virtue on a firm foundation, leaves no object whatever for which yearning may be felt; next Aristo, who did not venture to leave a mere blank, but produced, as the objects which arouse yearning in the mind of the wise man, such things as chanced to present themselves to his mind and .such things as, so to say, threw themselves in his way. He is in this respect better than Pyrrho, that he allowed impulse of a kind to exist, but is inferior to the rest, because he was entirely disloyal to nature. Now the Stoics are like these philosophers because they declare final good to consist in virtue only; in that however they seek out a starting point for appropriate action they are superior to Pyrrho; because they do not invent those chance presentments, they have the advantage over Aristo ; but in that they do not annex to their ultimate good those objects which they declare to be adapted to nature’s scheme and in their essence worthy of choice, therein they set up a revolt against nature, and in a certain degree are not unlike Aristo. He invented certain vague chance presentments ; these philoso- phers however do indeed assume primary natural endowments, but they dissociate them from nature’s final conclusions and from the sum of things good; now in declaring their preference for these objects, to the end that there may be some choice from among external things, they appear to follow nature’s guidance; in denying however that these things have any bearing what- A ever on happiness, they turn round and desert nature. Further, the plea I have put in as yet is that there was no reason why Zeno should be disloyal to the authority of his predecessors ; now let us look to what remains, unless, Cato, you either want to make some reply to what I have stated, or think that I have already been too prolix.’ ‘By no means, said he; ‘I indeed want you to conclude your discussion, nor can your speech possibly appear to me diffuse.’ ‘Thank you much, said I. ‘What could I desire more than to discuss the virtues with Cato, the patron of every virtue? But first look to this point; your most import- ant doctrine, which rules your whole scheme, that what is moral is alone good and that the final good is a life of morality, will be shared by you along with all those who affirm that the final good is found in virtue alone; and your declaration that no scheme of virtue can be sketched out, if account be taken of anything but morality, will be made in the same terms by the philosophers I have just quoted. It seemed to me the fairer course that Zeno, in his controversy with Polemo, from whom he had taken over his view of the fundamental principles of nature, should in his progress after leaving the elements which were common to the two, mark the point at which he first halted, ahd the source from which the dispute between them first arose, and should not take his stand with men who did not even assert that their views of the supreme good were based on nature, using the same arguments that they used and stating the same opinions.

XVII. I cannot possibly commend your action, in that after proving, as you believe yourselves to have proved, that the only good thing is morality, you turn round and say that - elementary objects must be set before us which are in agree- ment and harmony with nature, from the choice of which objects virtue may ultimately spring. You ought not to have laid down virtue to consist’ in this choice, so that the very thing which you declared to be your ultimate good, takes to itself some other objects; since everything which we ought to choose or adopt or aspire to, must be included in the sum of things good, so that he who has attained to this sum, may feel no lack of anything besides. Do you not see how clear it is what those persons must do or not do whose good is summed up in pleasure? How no one is in doubt as to the aim all their appropriate actions ought to keep in view, the end they ought to pursue, the objects they are bound to avoid? Let the view of the final good which I am now maintaining be accepted, rt at once becomes plain what actions and what undertakings are appropriate. You however, who set before yourselves no aim but righteousness and morality, will not be able to dis- cover what is the source from which flow the first principles of appropriate action or conduct. In the search after this source all men, not only those who declare that they are guided by the notions which occur to their minds or by any chance present- ment, but you yourselves also, will have to return to nature. And nature will with justice give you the answer that it is not right for the standard of happiness to be sought in some- thing extraneous to herself, while from her you seek your first principles of action; that there is a single purpose which embraces the first principles of action and the final views of good, and that exactly as the world had rejected with scorn the theory of Aristo that there was no essential difference in the values of objects, and that no things existed, between which definite distinctions could be drawn, excepting virtue and vice, so in the same way Zeno was wrong in saying that in nothing but in virtue or its opposite was there power to affect the balance in the slightest as regards the attainment of the supreme good, and though all other objects were without importance so far as happiness was concerned, yet so far as instinctive yearning was concerned, these objects did possess various degrees of m- portance ; as though indeed this instinct had no bearing on the attainment of the final good! What statement is more incon- `- sistent than their assertion that when once they have acquired a knowledge of the supreme good they turn back to nature to demand from her a first principle for conduct, that is for appro- priate action? For it is not our view of conduct or appropriate action which drives us to seek the objects that are in agreement with nature, but it is by these objects that all appropriate action and all activity are called into being. | XVIII. Now I pass to your terse arguments, which you called short methods, and I take first this, which is as terse as anything can be; all good is praiseworthy, everything praise- worthy is moral; everything good is therefore moral. What a dagger of lath! Who would ever grant you your first pre- miss? And if that is granted you, you have no need of the second, since if all good is praiseworthy, it is all moral; who then will grant you your first premiss except Pyrrho, Aristo and others who resemble them? And these are men whom you do not favour. Aristotle, Xenocrates, and their whole school will not grant it, since they call health, strength, wealth, fame, and many other things good, but do not call them praiseworthy. Now these philosophers, while they do not sup- pose that the supreme good is limited to virtue alone, never- theless give virtue the precedence over all else; what do you think will be the verdict of those who have altogether severed virtue from their form of ultimate good, Epicurus I mean, Hieronymus and those too who are minded to champion the view of final good proposed by Carneades? Further, how will either Callipho or Diodorus be able to make you the admission you want, when they join with morality something else which does not belong to the same class? Are you determined then, Cato, after making assumptions which no one allows you, to draw from them any conclusion you please? Let us turn to this chain- inference, a kind of argument which you think more faulty than any other; all good is matter for our aspiration; all matter for our aspiration is matter for our desire; all matter for our desire is worthy of our praise; then come the remaining steps. But I oppose you at this point; just as before, no one will grant you that what is matter for our desire is worthy of our praise. Next comes what is by no means a short method but to the last degree stupid; it belongs of course to your school and not to you per- sonally; that happiness is worthy of glorification, whereas it cannot possibly be the case that any one should have a nght to glory unless he possesses morality. Polemo will make Zeno this admission; Polemo’s teacher too and the whole family to which he belongs, and all others who, while they put virtue far above all other possessions, still associate something else with it when they give their definition of the supreme good. If indeed virtue is worthy of glorification, as it is, and excels all other possessions in a degree which can scarce be expressed in words, then a man endowed with virtue only will be able to feel happy, though he lacks all else, without allowing what you ask, that nothing must be regarded as good except virtue. Those whose ultimate good has nothing to do with virtue will perhaps not admit that happiness supplies a just cause for glori- fication, though they indeed sometimes represent the pleasures as subjects for glorification.

XIX. You see then that you either make assumptions which are not admitted, or such that even though they are admitted, they are of no use to you. For my part, in regard to all such arguments, I should imagine the only result worthy of philosophy and of our own characters (and more particularly so when we are seeking after the supreme good) to be the reform of our lives, our designs, and our inclina- tions, not merely of our words. Who can possibly change his opinion because he has listened to those terse and pointed arguments which you say cause you pleasure? Well, when people are eager and desirous to be told the reason why pain is not an evil, these philosophers say to them that to feel pain is troublesome, vexatious, annoying, unnatural, and hard to endure, but is no evil because pain brings with it neither deceit, nor bad principles, nor spite, nor crime, nor infamy. Any one who is told this, supposing him not to feel a desire to mock, will nevertheless depart with no greater strength to bear pain than he had when he came. But you say that no one can be strong who thinks pain an evil. Why should he be any stronger, if he thinks it troublesome and barely endurable, as you allow him to think? Cowardice is created by. facts and not by names. And you say that if a single letter of your scheme be disturbed it will all topple over. Well then, do you think I am now disturbing one letter merely, or whole pages? For even though we find that these philosophers have maintained an or- derly system, and that all their doctrines fit in with one another and hang together (these were your words) still we are not bound to follow the doctrines to their conclusions, because starting from false premisses they are self-consistent and never swerve from their purpose. Well then, in dealing with the fundamental plan of human life, your Zeno abandoned nature, and placing the supreme good in that intellectual excellence which we call virtue, asserting too that nothing else was good but what was. moral, and that virtue could not stand its ground if among all other objects any distinctions of goodness and badness were found, he embraced all the consequences that flow from these axioms. What you say is correct; I can give it no denial; but so untrue are the consequences that the premisses from which they spring cannot possibly be true. The logicians, as you know, prove to us that if the consequences of any proposition be false, the proposition itself from which they flow is false. So arises the following argument, which is not only true, but so evident that logicians do not even feel bound to give any account of it; if this is true, then that is; but this is not true, neither then is that. So by the overthrow of your results, your premisses are also overthrown. What are the results then? That all men who are not wise are alike wretched; that wise men are all supremely happy, that all right actions are of equal excellence, all sins equally heinous; statements which though they seemed splendid on a first hearing, on reflection proved less attractive. For every man’s feelings and the constitution of the world and truth herself cried aloud, if we may say so, that they could not be brought to believe that no differences of value were traceable in those objects which Zeno placed on the same level. | XX. Next that little Phoenician of yours (of course you are aware that your clients, the inhabitants of Citium, emi- grated from Phoenicia) this keen-witted man, then, finding that he was losing his case, since nature was up in arms against him, began to quibble on words, and in the first place those objects which we entitle good he allowed to be considered as valuable and in accord with nature, and began to grant that his wise man, that is to say the supremely happy man, would still be better off, if he possessed those things also which Zeno does not venture to call good, but admits to be in agreement with nature; then he says that Plato, even though he be not a wise man, is still in different circumstances from the despot Dionysius; for the latter it is best to die, because he is hopeless of attain- ing wisdom; for the former it is best to live because he has hope; sins again are partly endurable, partly by no means endurable, because some sins transgress more and some fewer of the points, if we may call them so, of duty; further, un- wise men were in some instances of such a character as to make it impossible for them to arrive at wisdom, while in other cases it was possible for them, if they gave their minds to it, to attain to wisdom. This man talked in a different style from us all; yet his thoughts were the same as those of the rest. Nor indeed did he consider that a smaller value was to be set on those things which he himself denied’ to be good, than those who maintained them to be actually good. What then was his purpose in making those changes? He might at least have made some deduction from the importance of the things in question, and might have valued them at a little lower rate than the Peripatetics, in which case he would be thought to differ in his opinions and not merely in his statements. Well, what do you and your friends say about happiness itself, which is the end of all effort? You deny it to be ‘such that it is furnished forth with all those objects for which nature longs; and so you make it wholly to reside in virtue and in nothing else. And whereas every dispute is usually about either some fact or some term, a dispute of both kinds arises if there is want of knowledge about the fact, or a mistake is made about the term; and even if neither of these accidents occurs we must do all we can to make use of terms which are exceedingly familiar and in the highest degree suitable, that is terms which convey facts clearly. Is there then any doubt that, if the ancients are not in error about the facts themselves, they use their terms in a more suitable way ? Let us glance then at their opinions; after that let us return to the consideration of the terms.

XXI. They say that an impulse is aroused in the mind, when something is presented to it which is in harmony with -nature; and that all things which are in harmony with nature deserve to be credited with a certain value, and that they must be valued in proportion to the importance which each possesses; and that the things which are in accordance with nature have in part no power of arousing that impulse of which we have often already spoken, such things not being called either moral or praiseworthy, while they are in part things which rouse pleasure in every sentient being, and in man an exercise of the reason also; and all things that depend on reason are moral, beautiful and praiseworthy, while the former class of things is called natural, and these when com- bined with things moral render happiness perfect and complete.

Of all those advantages, however, to which those who call them by the name of things good do not assign any higher value than is allowed them by Zeno, who denies that they are good, by far the most excellent class is that which has the characteristic of morality and praiseworthiness; but if two objects of a moral character be set before us, the one accom- panied by good health, the other by disease, there is no doubt to which of these nature herself would recommend us; but still so great is the power of morality, and so far does it overcome and surpass all other objects, that by neither punish- ments nor bribes of any kind can it be driven from the pursuit of that which it has decided to be righteous; and all things which seem cruel, hard and severe, may be trampled under foot by the virtues with which nature has equipped us; not with ease indeed, nor so that the task seems trivial (otherwise where would be the great value of virtue?) but so as to lead us to pronounce that such matters have not the most important share in producing happiness or its opposite. In fine they call those very possessions good which Zeno declared to be valuable and worthy of choice, and fitted for nature’s wants; happiness they said depended on the attainment of those re I have mentioned, either the majority of them or the most important. Zeno, on the other hand, gives the name good only to that which has some peculiar characteristic of its own which renders it desirable, and says happiness is found only in that life which is passed in the company of virtue.

XXII. If we are to debate about facts, Cato, there « can be no disagreement between me and you; there is indeed nothing on which you and I hold different opinions, if only we change the expressions and compare the facts together. Nor did your founder fail to see this, but his heart rejoiced in splendour and pomp of language; for if he understood by his statements what the words point to, what difference would there be be- tween him and either Pyrrho or Aristo? But if he did not look on these philosophers with favour, how did it concern him to set up a verbal disagreement with men to whose opinions he assented? How would it be if those old pupils of Plato and those who in regular succession were their pupils, were to come to life again and to hold with you discourse such as this? “ While we listened to you, Marcus Cato, a most enthusiastic adherent of philosophy, the most upright of men, a most excel- lent judge, a most scrupulous witness, we wondered what reason you could have for preferring the Stoics to us, though they assent to the views about objects good and bad which Zeao had learned from our Polemo, and merely employ phrases which on a first view excite astonishment, but ridicule when their sense is made clear. But if you yourself accepted the old doctrines, why did you not hold them in their own proper forms of expression? If it was authority that influenced you, did you prefer to our whole company and to Plato himself your obscure founder? This is all the stranger, as you desired to be a leading statesman, and might have been with the best effect equipped and armed by us for the maintenance of the state with the highest honour to yourself. It is our school which has explored such subjects and written about them, and observed them, and taught them, and we have described at length the different constitutions, conditions, and revolutions in the history of all governments, the laws too with the prin- ciples and practices of communities. How greatly you would have enriched from the records we have left that eloquence which is the greatest distinction of statesmen and which, as we are told, you wield very powerfully!” After such a speech, pray what answer would you make to such distinguished men?’ ‘I would beg you, said he, ‘after putting that discourse in their mouths, to make a speech for me in turn, or, better still, to give me a little space to reply to them, only I would rather now listen to you, and shall besides give them an answer on another occasion, I mean when I reply to you.’

XXIII. ‘Now, Cato, if you were anxious to give them a truthful answer, you would have to tell them this, that you did not regard with disfavour men of such splendid abilities and such high authority, but that you observed how the Stoics had seen through difficulties of which they, because of their early date, had taken a narrow view, and that the later school had argued more cleverly and had given a grander and stronger verdict on these same difficulties, denying first of all that good health is a thing desirable, but affirming it to be choiceworthy, not because health is a good thing, but because it has some slight value (though indeed it has no higher value in the eyes of those who do not shrink from naming it good); but this was what you could not endure, I mean the belief which these old bearded ancients, so to call them (for thus we are accustomed to speak of our own ancestors) maintained, that the life of a man who lived morally and was also in good health and in good repute and prosperous would be more to be wished for and altogether better and more desirable than the life of another who, though an equally good man, was, like the Alcmaeon of Ennius, on many sides encompassed by sickness, exile, and dis- tress. Those ancients then do not shew much shrewdness in thinking such a life more to be wished for, more excellent, more happy; the Stoics on their part think it should merely have the preference when choice is being made, not because such a life is happier, but because it is more in harmony with nature ; and they believe all men who are not wise to be alike unhappy. This forsooth is what the Stoics saw, and what had escaped the notice of their predecessors, that men polluted by crimes and foul murders were not a whit more wretched than men who, though they lived a pure and stainless life, had not yet reached the perfection of wisdom. Now at this point you quoted those most incongruous illustrations which the Stoics are fond of employing. Pray who fails to see that if several men want to get their heads out of deep water, those will be nearer to drawing a breath who are already approaching the surface of the water, but yet are no better able to breathe than those who are still deep down? So to make advances and gradual steps towards virtue does not help a man to escape from being as wretched as it is possible to be, unless he has actually reached the goal of virtue, because the persons in the water are no better off, and again since the whelps who are on the point of gaining their sight are blind as much as those just born, it needs must follow that Plato, because his eyes were not yet set on wisdom, was just as blind of heart as Phalaris himself.

XXIV. The instances you quote, Cato, are not appropriate, for in them, however great the advance you may have made, yet the evil you wish to escape remains the same until you have actually surmounted it. For the man in the water draws no breath till his head is above it, and the whelps are every bit as blind before they have actually got their sight, as they would be if they were doomed ever to remain so, The follow- ing cases are really in point; suppose some man’s eyesight is dim, and another’s body is weak; and that such men are being daily relieved by treatment; one gets stronger every day; the other sees better every day; such is the case of all who de- vote themselves to virtue ; they get relief from their faults and their mistakes, unless indeed you are of opinion that Tiberius Gracchus the father was no happier than his son, though one made it his aim to strengthen the state, and the other to over- throw it. Yet he was no man of wisdom, for who was ever so, or when or where, or by what means? But because he gave his heart to uprightness and honour, he had made much pro- gress in the pursuit of virtue. Am I to compare your grand- father Drusus with Gaius Gracchus, who was almost his contem- porary? He cured the wounds which the other inflicted on his country. If there is nothing which makes men so wretched as wickedness and crime, although we allow that all men who are not wise are wretched, as they certainly are, yet a man who serves his country’s interest is not on the same level of wretchedness with another who desires her ruin. Those then who can point to a considerable advance towards wisdom are to a great extent relieved from their faults. Your school admit however that the advance towards virtue takes place, while they refuse to allow that the relief from faults takes place. But it is worth while to reflect upon the proof which these shrewd men use to demonstrate their doctrine. In the case of those arts to whose degree of perfection an addition can be made, it will be possible for the degree of imperfection of their opposites to be increased; now to the perfection of virtue no addition can be made; nor therefore will it be possible for vices, which are the opposites of virtues, to increase. Well then, in this case are plain facts used to explain doubtful matters, or are doubtful matters used to destroy plain facts? Now this is a plain fact, that vices differ in degree; the other question, whether any addition can be made to that which you affirm to be the supreme good, is doubtful. But whereas you ought to make plain facts throw light on those which are doubtful, you really try to destroy facts that are plain by means of those which are doubtful. And so you will fall into a difficulty of the kind which I already pointed out. If you deny a difference in the importance of vices, for the reason that the final good which you set up is not capable of extension, then you will have to make a change in your view of final good, since it is plain that vices are not in fact of equal importance in the case of all persons. We are bound to cling to the doctrine that. where some inference is untrue the fact from which it is inferred can- not possibly be true.

XXV. What then is the source of all these difficulties ? Pompous display in determining the supreme good. When in- deed it is asserted that what is moral is alone good, all attention to health is at once abolished, all care of family property, all public service, all system in the conduct of private business, alk duties. of daily life; even that morality on which, as you make out, everything depends, must be abandoned; and all this is most carefully set forth by Chrysippus in his argument against | Aristo. From this dilemma arise those deceitful-tongued chica- neries, as Attius calls them. Whereas upon the abolition of all appropriate actions wisdom found no space for the sole of her foot, and whereas appropriate actions certainly were abolished when all exercise of choice and all distinctions were swept away, and such actions could not exist because all objects had been brought so entirely to the same level that differences ceased to be traceable, consequently from all these difficulties your doc- trines, worse than those of Aristo, were the outcome. His were at all evénts straightforward ; yours are tricky. If you were to ask Aristo whether all these things, absence of pain, riches, health are in his eyes good, he would say no. Well, are their opposites bad? No more than the others are good. Were you to question Zeno, he would give identically the same answer. Let us in our astonishment ask both of them in what way we can conduct our life, if we suppose that it matters not in the least to us whether we are well or ill, whether we are free from pain or tortured by it, whether we find it possible to stave off cold and hunger or not. You will live, says Aristo, in a grand and splendid style; whatever course seems proper at the moment, that you will take; you will never feel vexation, passion or _ alarm. What says Zeno? He says these doctrines are mons- trous, and that no one can possibly live on such principles; his own doctrine however is, he says, that there is a vast, and in some sense measureless interval between morality and vice ; but between all other objects there are no differences whatever. Up to this point the statements are identical; listen to the rest and restrain your laughter if you can. Those intermediate objects, says he, between which no distinctions are to be traced, yet are of such a nature that some of them are to be chosen and others to be refused and others to be altogether dis- regarded, that is to say, you are to wish for some of them, turn against others and treat others with indifference. But you said a little while since that no distinctions existéd among these objects. And I say so now again, he will say, but the absence of distinctions appears when they are compared with the virtues and the vices.

XXVI. Who, pray, was unaware of that? Let us hear nevertheless. Well, says he, the conditions you named, the being well, rich, free from pain, these I do not call good but shall dub them in the Greek tongue zrponypéva, while in Latin they may be called preferred (but I would rather say advanced or leading objects; such a translation would be less harsh and smoother) while the other conditions, sickness, penury, pain, I do not name evils but if you please things refusable. So I do not say that I desire the former class of conditions, but that I choose them, not that I aspire to them but that I adopt them, while their opposites I do not avoid but, so to say, put away from me. What does Aristotle say and the rest of Plato’s pupils? That they name good all conditions which accord with nature, and all conditions bad which are of the opposite character. Do you not see that your friend Zeno is at one with Aristo so far as words go, while he is hostile to him in his opinions; but that he is opposed in his language to Aristotle and the old school, while in his opinions he is in harmony with them? Why, then, inas- much as our opinions agree, do we not prefer to adopt ordinary language? Or else let him prove to me that I shall be more likely to think lightly of money if I class it among objects pre- ferred rather than good, and shall have greater strength to endure pain if I name it severe and hard to bear and unnatural rather than evil. Our friend Marcus Piso, who said many witty — things, jested at the Stoics on this wise. “ Well,” he used to say: “you declare wealth to be no good thing, but assert it to be a thing preferred; how do you help us? Do you weaken avarice? How? To begin with, if we examine the phrase, the word preferred is longer than the word good.” “That has nothing to do with the matter!” “ Possibly not, but the word is certainly more imposing. For I do not know the derivation of the term good, but what is preferred: is so called, I suppose, because it is put before other things. This seems to me a great fact.” So Piso used to say that greater honour was done to wealth by Zeno who classed it among things preferred than by Aristotle, who admitted it to be a good thing, though a good thing of no great consequence, and one which deserved to be disregarded and even scorned in comparison with righteousness and morality, as being an object in no high degree desirable; and Piso dis- cussed in the same way all these terms as a class, upon which Zeno had made innovations, maintaining that Zeno in dealing . With those objects to which he refused the name good and again with those he would not allow to be evil, denoted the one set by more attractive and the other set by gloomier titles than we give them. This then was Piso’s fashion: and he was a man, as you know, of high excellence and your own devoted admirer; as for myself I must at last conclude, after I have said a few words more; it is a tedious task to answer every single statement you advanced.

XXVII. Now it is a consequence of the same juggling with words that you have acquired kingdoms and empires. and riches, and riches so great that you say all property wherever found belongs to the wise man. Moreover he is alone beautiful, alone free; alone possessed of citizenship, while of the fools you say everything that is opposite to this, and even try to make them out to be lunatics. These are what the Stoics call mapadoga; let us call them marvels. But what is there in them to marvel at when once you have taken a close view of them? I will compare notes with you to see what meaning you attach to each expression; in no case shall there be any doubt. You say all sins are equal. I shall not jest with you as I did about these same topics when I was counsel for Lucius Murena, and you were against him. What I said then was said among ignorant people; I had actually to humour the crowd to some extent; now I must plead my case in a more refined manner. Sins are equal. How so? Because no one thing is more moral than another, and no one thing is more vicious than another. Go on; that is indeed the very point about which there is serious disagreement ; let us glance at your pe-culiar proofs which demonstrate that all sins are equal. Well, says my opponent, just as when several harps are played together, if no one of them were to have its strings exactly tuned so as to harmonise with the rest, all of them would be equally out of tune, so sins because they jar, all jar equally; so then they are all equal. Here we have a play on two senses of a word. It indeed equally happens in the case of all the harps that they are out of tune; but it does not at once follow that they are all equally out of tune. Your comparison therefore is useless to you; it will certainly not follow that when we have once- asserted all forms of avarice to be equally avarice, we should call all forms of avarice equal. Next we come to another incongruous comparison. We are told that, just as a captain sins equally whether he capsizes a vessel loaded with straw, or loaded with gold, so he who flogs his parent and he who unjustly flogs his slave both sin equally. Fancy the inability to see that the nature of the cargo which the ship is carrying has nothing to do with the art of the pilot, and so that the question whether she is laden with gold or straw makes no difference to his skill in pilotage ; but any one can and ought to perceive what difference there is between a parent and a poor slave. So in piloting a ship it matters not under what cir- cumstances the offence is committed, but in a case of obligation circumstances are of the utmost importance. And if in the course of actual navigation the ship capsizes through careless handling, the offence is more serious if the cargo be gold than if it be straw. We expect to find the practice of all arts attended by ordinary foresight, as it is called, and this all are bound to possess, whatever be the craft to which they are appointed. So in this way again sins are not equal.

XXVIII. Still they press their case, and do not a whit relax their efforts. Say they, seeing that every sin is a testi- mony of weakness and instability, and these faults are found to an equally serious extent in all fools, it follows that all sins must be equal. You talk as though it were granted that in the case of all fools certain defects exist in equal degree, and that Lucius Tubulus exhibited the same amount of weakness and instability as that man did under whose bill he was convicted, I mean Publius Scaevola ; and as though no differences existed in the circumstances under which sins are committed, so that in proportion as these circumstances are more or less serious, | in that proportion the sins committed in connexion with them are either more or less serious ! ;

So (for now my speech must cease) your friends the Stoics seem to me to labour under this one defect more than any other, that they suppose themselves able to support two contradictory views. What inconsistency is there like that of the man who says that what is moral is alone good, and says again that from nature flows the impulse to seek those objects which are suited to preserve our life? So in their desire to uphold the considerations which suit the former opinion, they fall into the ditch along with Aristo; when they try to avoid that fate, they maintain substantially the same doctrines as the Peripatetics, while they cling tenaciously to their own form of expression. Again, because they refuse to allow this form of expression to be torn out of their system, they become very rough, rugged and hard, both in speech and in manners. Now Panaetius, shrinking from this gloom and severity of theirs, did not sanction either the bitterness of their doctrines or their thorny dialectic, and in the one department shewed himself gentler, in the other more luminous, and always had on his lips the names of Plato Aristotle Xenocrates Theophrastus and Dicaearchus, as his own writings shew. Now I give it as my strong opinion that you ought to thumb these philosophers with earnest and careful attention. But as the evening is closing in, and I have to return to my house, for the present this must be enough; but let us often imitate this precedent.’ ‘That we will,’ said he; ‘what indeed is there better for us to do? And the first favour I shall require of you will be that you should listen to me when I refute the state- ments you have made. But do not forget that you hold all the opinions in which we believe, only you do not like our dif- ferent use of terms, while I cannot sanction any of the dogmas of your school? ‘You prick my conscience as I am going away, said I, ‘but we shall see.’ When we had said this we separated.

END OF BOOK IV.

5. BOOK V - Middle Platonism - Antiochus of Ascalon - Cicero's Conclusions

I. ONE, Brutus, when as my custom was I had attended, in company with Marcus Piso, a lecture by Antiochus in the place of exercise called the Ptolomaeum, at which time there were present with us my brother Quintus and also Titus Pomponius with Lucius Cicero, by relationship my father’s brother’s son, but by attachment my true brother, we agreed to take our afternoon exercise in the Academia, chiefly because the spot: was at that time of day entirely undis- turbed by the crowd. So we all met in Piso’s house at the appointed hour. On leaving we whiled away with general conversation the six stades outside the Double Gate. When however we arrived at the walks of the Academia, so justly famous, we found the quiet which we had desired. Then said Piso: ‘shall I call it a natural instinct or in some sense a delusion whereby whenever we cast our eyes on the spots at which, as we have been told, men worthy of a place in history passed much of their time, we are then more excited than we are in listening to a description of their achievements, or in reading some of their works? I for instance feel at this moment such excitement. I call to mind Plato, who, so we have been told, was the first to use this place habitually for debate ; and his little garden, which lies quite near us, not only brings him back to my recollection, but seems to place the very man before my eyes. Here stood Speusippus, here Xenocrates, here Polemo his pupil, whose chair was that which we see before us. For my part when I looked at our own senate’s assembly hall (I mean the hall of Hostilius, not the new one, which seems in my eyes smaller, since it was enlarged) I used to picture to myself | Scipio, Cato, Laelius and dbove all my own ancestor; such a power have places to rouse our attention; so that there is good reason why they have been employed in the training of the memory.’ Then Quintus said: ‘your remarks are perfectly true. Indeed, in my own case, as I` came here, I found my thoughts drawn towards the site of Colone, whose citizen Sophocles flitted before my eyes—you know the admiration I feel for him and the pleasure I take in him. A kind of vision too, empty phantom though it was, nevertheless aroused me to consciousness of the still older story of Oedipus, as he came here and begged in that tenderest of strains to know what was the name of that very spot? Then Pomponius inter- posed: ‘but I, against whom you ofien inveigh as a slave of Epicurus, do indeed spend a good deal of my time along with Phaedrus, my dearest friend, as you all know, in the garden of Epicurus, which we just now passed ; but still, as the old saw enjoins, I bear the living in mind ; though of course I cannot forget Epicurus, even though I were to wish it, for my frends of our school preserve his likeness not only in pictures but even on cups and signet rings.

II. Hereupon I remarked: ‘so far as our friend Pomponius is concerned I think he is jesting, and perhaps he has earned the right to do so; since he has so entirely established himself at Athens, that he is almost one of the Athenians and seems likely to bear the title Atticus as his surname; for myself, I agree with you, Piso, that the associations of particular places give greatly increased keenness and vividness to our thoughts ‘about men of fame. You know of course that on a certain occasion I visited Metapontum along with you, and did not seek my host’s house until I had gazed upon the very spot where Pythagoras ended his life, and upon his chair too. At the present moment however, though in every quarter of Athens the mere sites contain many mementoes of the most illustrious men, yet the seat yonder particularly affects me, as it was once occupied by Carneades; and the man seems present to my view (indeed his portrait is familiar) and I fancy that even the chair, since such a mighty genius was taken from it, yearns for his well-known voice. Whereupon Piso said: ‘ well then, as we all have spoken something, what thinks our friend Lucius? Does he feel pleasure in surveying the arena where Demosthenes and Aeschines were accustomed to fight out their battles? Of course every one is especially influenced by his own hobby.’ Then he replied with a blush: ‘don’t ask me: I have been down to the Phaleric strand at the spot where, as the story goes, Demosthenes used to speak ageinst the waves, that he might accustom himself to drown an uproar by his voice. Just now too I turned aside off the main road a little to the right, to go close to Pericles’ tomb. But in this city such memorials are endless ; wherever we tread, our steps bring us upon some historic memory.’ Then Piso remarked: ‘well, Cicero, such enthusiasm, if it tends to the emulation of renowned persons, marks the man of ability, hut if only directed to making ac- quaintance with the memorials of ancient history, it betrays the | inquisitive man. Now we all of us urge you to make up your mind actually to emulate the men you long to know, though, as I hope, you are already set on that course.’ Here I interposed : ‘though our friend here, Piso, is already, as you can see, prac- tising what you preach, still I am pleased with the encourage- ment you give him.’. Then he said, in the kindliest words (such was his fashion) ‘let us all however bestow on our friend’s young years all the gifts we have, and in particular let us bring him to give some of his attention to philosophy also, either from a desire to follow in your steps, for he loves you, or that he may be able to achieve with greater brilliance the purpose he has at heart. But, Lucius,’ said he, ‘must we press this upon you, or are you actually of yourself inclined in this direction? I for my part think you listen very nicely to the lectures of Antiochus, which you are attending.’ Then the youth replied with some nervousness or rather modesty: ‘I do so indeed, but have you heard lately the doctrine of Carneades ? I am strongly drawn to him; while Antiochus tries to reclaim me, and there is no. other teacher for me to hear.’

III. Then Piso spoke: ‘though perhaps my purpose will not be so easily brought to pass, since our friend is close beside us’ (it was me he meant) ‘yet I will venture to summon you away from the new Academy to join the old family, among whom are to be reckoned, as you heard Antiochus say, not only the

men who are called Academics, Speusippus Xenocrates Polemo Crantor and the rest, but also the ancient Peripatetics, whose chief is Aristotle, a man whom I think I may with justice call the chief of all philosophers, with the exception of Plato. Set your face then towards this family, I entreat you. Not only may you derive from their writings and systems all liberal learning, all history, every choice form of style, but accomplish- ments in such variety that no one without such equipment can be properly prepared to approach any task of any distinction. From this school sprang the orators, from this school the generals and the governors of states. To come to less import- ant matters, mathematicians, poets, musicians and, last of all, physicians have been sent forth from this laboratory (if I may so call it) of all accomplishments,” Then I remarked: ‘you know, Piso, that I am of just the same opinion as yourself; but your observations are in good season; for my dear Cicero is anxious to learn what is the opinion of the ancient Academy, about which you are talking, and of the Peripatetics, touching - the various views of ultimate good. Now in our judgment you are best fitted to make this plain, because you entertained Staseas of Naples for many years in your house, and we see that for a good many months you have been seeking from Antiochus an account of these very topics. ‘ Well, well,’ said he with a smile, ‘since you have rather cleverly decided that our discussion should begin with myself, let us give our young friend any explanations we can. Our retirement indeed allows, what I never should have believed had any god foretold it, that I should debate in the Academy in the character of philo- sopher. But I hope I am not troublesome to you all in yield- ing to our friend’s wish.’ ‘To me, said I, ‘when I have just made the request of you? Then Quintus and Pomponius having’ expressed their concurrence, Piso began: and I pray you, Brutus, to give your mind to his speech, to see whether you think it sufficiently represents the doctrine of Antiochus, to which I believe you give your sanction in particular, since you were a frequent listener at the lectures of his brother Aristus,

IV. This then was his speech, ‘A little while ago, I sufficiently made clear in the fewest words I could use what rich culture the Peripatetic system supplies. Now that system, as do most of the rest, proposes a threefold scheme: one portion re- lates to nature, another to discourse, the third to conduct. The men of this school have so thoroughly explored nature that no region in sky sea or earth (to speak in poetic style) has been neglected by them. Moreover, after they had spoken of the elements of things and the universe as a whole, demonstrating many points not merely by probable proofs but also by the in- evitable principles of mathematics, they contributed to the know- ledge of hidden phenomena a vast store of facts examined by themselves. Aristotle traced the origin, habits and forms of all living creatures, while Theophrastus dealt with the structure of vegetables, and the principles and theories concerning almost all objects which spring from the earth, and this knowledge has rendered easier the inquiry into the most mysterious phenomena. And the same philosophers put forth maxims on discourse, suited not only to logicians but to orators also; and Aristotle their chief established the practice of arguing on either side concerning individual questions, not on the principle of always combating, like Arcesilas, all opinions, yet so as to bring out on every question all that can be said on both sides. As it was the function of the third branch to search for the maxims leading to a life of happiness, they moreover brought this branch into connexion not only with the principles that rule the life of indi- viduals, but also with the government of states. We know from Aristotle the customs, principles and institutions of nearly all communities not only in Greece but also outside Greece, and from Theophrastus we know their laws as well. And after each of them had shewn what character a leading statesman ought to possess, and had moreover compiled at length a description of the best form of government, Theophrastus treated the sub- ject more fully still, shewing what turning points and critical occasions are met with in government, which must be controlled as circumstances demand. The plan for the conduct of life which found most favour with them was that peaceful one, devoted to the consideration and investigation of phenomena, which from its great resemblance to the life of the gods was thought most worthy of the man of wisdom. And on these topics their utterances are brilliant and luminous.

V. Now because the works which deal with the supreme good are of two classes, one written in popular style, to which they gave the name exoteric, the other more elaborate, which they left behind them in their notebooks, it follows that they do not always seem consistent in their statements; though so far as essentials are concerned there are no contradictions to be found in the writings of the men whom I have just named, nor did they disagree among themselves, But whenever the ques- tion discussed is the life of happiness, and whenever philoso- phy has to consider exclusively and solve the problem whether happiness is entirely placed within the wise man’s control, or whether it may be either undermined or torn from him by misfortune, then in dealing with this problem there some- times appears among them contradiction and indecision. This is especially shewn by the work of Theophrastus about happi- ness, in which a large influence is allowed to fortune, though if his statements were true wisdom would not have the power to insure happiness. This is in my opinion a softer and, if I may say so, more effeminate scheme than is re- quired by the power and dignity of virtue. Solet us cleave to Aristotle and his son Nicomachus, whose carefully written treatise on morals is indeed reputed to be by Aristotle, but I see nothing to prevent the son from having been like the father. Still let us consult Theophrastus on most points, only let us retain for virtue more solidity and vigour than he retained.

Let us be satisfied then with these, since their successors, though, as I believe, better than the philosophers of other schools, are yet so fallen away as to seem self-taught, First Strato the pupil of Theophrastus gave himself out for a natural philosopher; and notwithstanding that he is great in that field, still he was full of novelties and said very little about ethics. His pupil Lyto was rich in style, but barren in his results; his successor was the choice and dainty Aristo; but he lacked the seriousness which is expected of a great thinker ; his writings, I admit, were both numerous and finished, but his style somehow or other is wanting in dignity. I pass by many, and among them that learned and gentle man Hierony- mus, though, when we get to him, I fail to see why I should call him a Peripatetic, since he set forth for the supreme good the absence of pain, and any one who is heterodox on the sub- ject of the supreme good, is heterodox on the whole scheme of philosophy. Critolaus professed to take the ancients as his models, and in dignity he approaches them, while his style is flowing; yet he no more than others is true to the doctrines of his ancestors. Diodorus his pupil adds to morality the absence of pain. He too is original, and as being heterodox on the subject of the supreme good, cannot truly be called a Peri- patetic. Our friend Antiochus seems to me to follow out most faithfully the views of the ancients, and these views he proves to have been common to Aristotle and Polemo.

VI. Our friend Lucius then is sensible in wishing above all things to be informed about the supreme good, since when once we have established this in philosophy we have established every- thing. Now in all other subjects if any point has been forgotten or has remained unknown, the inconvenience has no greater importance than have in each case those subjects in connexion with which the omission has occurred ; but if the supreme good remains unknown, the guiding principle of life must needs remain unknown; and the result is such aimless wandering that men cannot discover to what haven to betake themselves.. But when once we have learned the limits of things, when we understand what ultimate good is and what ultimate evil is, then we have discovered our path in life and the way to shape all our duties therein, then we perceive how the aim of each action is to be determined; whence we can discover and master the conditions of happiness, the thing that all men desire. But since there is great disagreement on the ques- tion wherein happiness consists, we must avail ourselves of the classification of Carneades, which our friend Antiochus is generally glad to adopt. He, then, saw plainly not merely how many opinions concerning the supreme good had existed among philosophers up to his time, but how many in all could possibly come into existence. So he began by denying that there is any science which finds within itself its own starting point; for the matters which are handled by the science always lie outside it. There is no need to prove this at length by instances; it is indeed evident that no science can be self-contained, but that the science itself s one thing and the object at which it aims is another; since, then, just as medicine is the science of health, and pilotage the science of navigation, so wisdom is the science of conduct, it is inevitable that it too should be based on some- thing and should take something for its point of departure.

Now almost all have admitted that the object with which wisdom is concerned and the purpose it desires to attain should be in conformity and agreement with nature and such that in itself it entices and allures that mental impulse which the Greeks call opyn. But what that object is which exercises this attraction and is in this way sought by nature at the very moment of birth, is not agreed, and on this matter great divergence appears among philosophers during the search for the supreme good. But as concerns the whole inquiry which is carried on about the limits of good and evil, when we debate in regard to them what is their farthest point and end, we must discover some source in which are contained the earliest at- tractions of nature; and when this has been found, the whole discussion about good and evil takes its rise in this as though in a fountain head.

VII. Some think that the attraction earliest felt is towards pleasure and that the earliest aversion is to pain ; others declare that the condition first sought after is freedom from pain, and the condition first avoided is that of pain; others again begin with those objects which they denote as the primary endow- ments in harmony with nature, among which they reckon the security and protection of all the bodily members, health, sound- ness of the senses, freedom from pain, strength, comeliness, and all the remaining things which belong to the same class, and the primary mental endowments are like these; and form so to speak the sparks and the germs of the virtues. Since it must be by one of these three classes of objects that nature is first roused to impulses of attraction or aversion, and there can be no other class in addition to these three, it is by one of these that we must needs determine in general the propriety of avoiding or seeking anything ; thus wisdom, which we have declared to be the science of conduct, is concerned with some one of these three matters, so as to derive from it the first start on the path of life. From that object which wisdom shall have decided to be the first cause of natural im- pulse, there will arise also the principles of uprightness and morality, such that they may harmonise with some one of the three classes of objects already named; thus morality will consist in doing all actions for pleasure’s sake, even though you may not achieve it, or for freedom from pain, even if you cannot attain to it, or for the acquisition of those objects which are in accord with nature, even though you may not acquire one of them. Thus it comes about that according to the variety of view concerning the elementary natural endowments, so is the dis- agreement between the various views concerning the boundaries of good and evil. Others again starting from the same elemen- tary principles will refer all appropriate action to the actual — acquisition either of pleasure or of freedom from pain or of those primary objects which are in accord with nature. Now that we have explained six doctrines concerning the supreme . good, we find these to be the authors of the three last named: Aristippus of the doctrine of pleasure, Hieronymus of the doc- trine of freedom from pain, while of the scheme for enjoying those objects which we have called the earliest that are in accord with nature, Carneades was not indeed the founder, but merely the champion for purposes: of argument. The three doctrines first named were such as might arise; though only one of them has been maintained, and vigorously maintained. Now no one ever said that we do all our actions for pleasure’s sake, meaning that the intention to act so is a thing in itself desirable and moral and alone good, even though we may not succeed. Nor did any one ever imagine that the shunning of pain (unless actual escape be possible) belongs in itself to things desirable. But nevertheless the Stoics declare that the complete effort to acquire those objects which accord with nature, even though we do not attain to them, is moral and alone essentially desirable and alone good.

VIIL We find then these six uncomplex doctrines concerning the essence of things good and things evil, of which doctrines two have not found a defender while four have been maintained. The compound and two-fold systems of expound- ing the supreme good have been three in all, nor indeed could they possibly have been more numerous, if you examine thoroughly the constitution of things; since with morality either pleasure may be combined, which was the view of Cal- lipho and Dinomachus, or freedom from pain, as Diodorus held, or the elementary natural endowments, according to the opinion of the ancients, under which title we rank the Academics and Peripatetics alike. But as we cannot state all the arguments at once, we shall be bound at this present moment to make it known that pleasure must be banished, since we men are born to a certain higher destiny, as shall soon be made plain. Almost the same arguments are usually advanced concerning freedom from pain, as concerning pleasure. Nor is it needful to search for any special refutation of the doctrine of Carneades, for whatever be the form in which the supreme good is stated, if it is divorced from morality, in such a system neither duty, nor virtue, nor friendship can find a place. Now the attach- ment to morality of either pleasure or the absence of pain changes even morality, which it professes to support, into vice. For to determine your course of action by looking to two matters, of which one implies that a man who is free from trouble is in the enjoyment of the highest possible good, while the other is concerned with the most worthless part of the human constitution, this is the same as dimming not to say defiling all the glory of morality. There are still left the Stoics, who having borrowed all their doctrines from the Peripatetics and Academics, expressed the same opinions by a different terminology. The better plan is to argue against these schools one by one, but we must now attend to our present task and speak of the other philosophers whenever we tind it desirable. Now that ease of Democritus, by which is meant peace of mind—he called it ev@vuéa—was plainly to be kept out of this discussion, because peace of mind is itself identical with happiness, and we are seeking not for a defini- tion of happiness, but for the source from which it springs.

Further we were by no means bound to pay any heed to the condemned and banished doctrines of Pyrrho, Aristo and Erillus, because they cannot come within the range which we have marked out for our subject. Indeed whereas this whole investigation of the limits and boundary lines, so to call them, of things good and things evil takes its start from that class of objects which we have declared to be in agreement and conformity with nature, and such as to be for their own sakes the first objects of pursuit, this whole class of objects is abolished not only by those who refuse to allow that when things are un- - connected with virtue or vice we have any reason for preferring any one of them to any other, and who declare that such things are wholly indifferent, but also by Erillus, who, in giving his opinion that nothing is good but knowledge, swept away every motive for deliberation, and every means of ascertaining what actions are appropriate. So seeing that we have rejected the other opinions, and none besides. those enumerated can exist, the system of the ancients must needs win the day. Let us therefore make a beginning as follows, after the example of the old thinkers, which even the Stoics follow.

IX. Every creature feels love for itself, and as soon as it comes into existence directs its efforts towards self-preserva- tion, because the earliest impulse which nature bestows on the creature for the protection of its whole life leads it to maintain its own existence and to secure for itself the best conditions which are possible for it according to nature’s law. Its hold on this first principle is, to begin with, doubtful and unsteady, merely impelling it te protect itself whatever be its nature, but it is not conscious what its being is, nor what its own capaci- ties are, nor what is the form of its own natural constitution. When however it has advanced somewhat, and has begun to possess a clear notion how each thing affects it and what . importance each thing has for it, then it begins to feel its way and to be conscious of its own being, and to comprehend the reason for which that mental instinct of which we have spoken was bestowed on it, and it begins regularly to yearn after those objects which it feels to be in conformity with nature, and to repel the opposites of those objects. So the objects which every creature pursues are determined by the class of things which is suited to the creature’s natural con- stitution, Thus the supreme good proves to be this, namely, to live in harmony with nature under conditions which are the best possible and the best adapted to the natural constitu- ` tion. Now since each creature has a constitution of its own, it follows inevitably that while the supreme good for all consists in the perfection of their nature (for nothing prevents us from assuming that the lower animals have some things in common, and that man has something in common with the animals, since all belong alike to the realm of nature) yet those ultimate and highest aims, which are the subjects of our inquiry, are severally apportioned and distributed among the different spe- cies of living creatures, and are peculiar in the case of each class, and adapted to the objects which the constitution of each class requires. Therefore when we assert that the highest good for all creatures is a life in accordance with nature, the state- ment must not be taken to mean that we declare all creatures to have one and the same highest good; but just as it can with propriety be said to be a common characteristic of all arts that they are concerned with some branch of knowledge, while each art requires its own peculiar knowledge, so it may be said to be a common characteristic of all creatures that they live in accordance with nature, while their natures are distinct, so that one thing is natural for a horse, another for an ox, another for a man, yet good as a whole preserves an analogy not only in the case of living creatures but even in the case of all those things which nature nurtures, rears, and sustains; and herein we see the objects which spring out of the soil produce one may say many results for themselves of their own motion, such as promote | their life and growth, so that they reach the ultimate aim which their class assigns to them. Thus we may now embrace all objects in a single statement and affirm without hesitation that every nature tends to preserve itself, and keeps before itself, as its ultimate and supreme good, the preservation of its being in the best circumstances of which its class admits; so it inevitably follows that for all creatures which draw their life from nature, ultimate good is analogous not identical. Hence we are bound to understand that for man the highest good is a life in harmony with nature, which we explain to mean a life in accordance with man’s constitution when it has been on all its sides brought to completion, and lacks nothing further. This then we must further expound ; but if we do so in great detail you will excuse us. We must bow to the interests of our friend’s youth, who possibly listens to these doctrines for the first time. ‘Quite ‘true,’ said I; ‘though all you have yet stated would be properly addressed to any age in that form.’

X. ‘Well then,’ said he, ‘now that we have made plain the mode of defining the objects of desire, we must next in order, as I said, point out how it is that the conclusions we have stated hold good. So let us begin with the consideration to which I have given the first place, which is first also in point of fact, that we understand every créature to feel love for itself. Now although this principle does not admit of doubt (since it is rooted in nature herself, and is made plain to each man by his own feelings in such a way that if any wanted to speak against it he would not obtain a hearing) still, that our exposi- tion may not be incomplete, I think I must produce arguments also to shew how this is so. Yet how can we comprehend ° or Imagine that there is some sort of creature which hates itself? We shall thus have two opposite things clashing together. For as soon as the mental instinct of which I have spoken has begun in a conscious manner to draw towards itself some external object injurious to it, prompted by hostility to its own existence, since it will therein act from regard for its own interest, it will feel both hatred and love for itself at one and the same time, which is an im- possible result. And it is inevitable that if any one is his own foe, he must look upon things that are actually good as evil, and vice versd, upon things that are actually evil as good, and must shun objects which are in fact attractive, and be attracted by objects which are in fact to be shunned; and this indubitably amounts to turning life upside down. Nor indeed can we regard as enemies to themselves those who are found eager for the noose or other modes of destruction, nor yet the character in Terence who determined that he was lessening the injustice done to his son so long as he made himself wretched (which is the way he puts it himself). But some are influenced by grief, others by their passions; many too are maddened by anger, and when they rush with their eyes open into mischief suppose at the moment that they are doing what is most to their interest. So they say without hesitation Z must have it so; as for you do as you like. If these had really pro- claimed war against themselves, they would desire to be racked by day and tortured by night, while they would not blame themselves on the grourd that they had been careless about their own interests ; such a complaint indicates that they feel love and affection for their own being. -So whenever it is de- clared that any one is doing disservice to himself and is his own enemy and his own open foe and in fine loathes his life, there must be understood to be beneath the surface some reason of such a kind as to shew in itself that each man is dear to himself. Nor however is it sufficient that there should be no one who hates himself, but we must also see this, that there is no one who thinks his own condition a matter of no import- ance to himself. For mental instinct will be swept away if in the case of our own existence we suppose that our own state does not concern us any more than the class of indifferent objects, which do not incline us in one direction more than another. | i XI. Now again it would be utterly ridiculous if any one chose to say that the love of each man for himself implies’ that this faculty of loving looks beyond to some other object than the being of the man himself who feels this love for him- self. When such a doctrine is put forward with regard to friendship, duty and virtue, in . whatever language it is ex- pressed, the purport of it is at least intelligible ; but we cannot even understand with regard to our own persons a statement to the effect that we love ourselves for the sake of some thing other than ourselves, pleasure for instance; since we love it because we love ourselves, and not ourselves because we love l it. Yet what is there plainer than that each man is not merely dear to himself but even intensely dear? Who indeed is there or rather how few are there who when death approaches do not find their blood flow back cravenly, and their colour grow pale with fear! Though indeed it is a fault to shrink so strongly from the extinction of our natural existence (and we have to blame a similar fault in connexion with pain); but the fact that almost all have this feeling is adequate proof that nature dreads destruction ; and the greater the degree to which some persons carry this feeling, incurring thereby justly our censure, the more clearly must we see that these extravagant forms of the sentiment which are found in some would never have existed unless the moderate form in some way were an ordinance of nature. But I am not now speaking of the fear of death felt by those whose reason for shrinking from it is that they imagine themselves about to be robbed of the advantages of life, or that they quake before some terrors to come after death, or are afraid lest the act of dying should be attended by pain, for we often find in the case of children, who have no imaginations of that kind, that when we threaten in sport to fling them down from some height they are alarmed. Nay even the wild beasts which (as says Pacuvius) lack all cleverness of wit for the exercise of forethought, shudder when the dread of death is held before their eyes. Now who has any other notion of the wise man himself but this, that even when he has deter- mined that he must die, he yet is affected by parting with his friends and by merely leaving behind him the light of day? Again the force of nature in such cases is made especially evident when many endure beggary, if only they may live, and men who are tottering with old age feel horror at the approach of death, and endure sorrows like those of Philoctetes which we see upon the stage, who though racked by intolerable anguish, yet protracted his life by catching birds; though slow he pierced the swift and though at rest, those on the wing, as we find in Attius, and he made a covering for his body by weaving together the feathers. What need to talk about the human race or about living creatures at all, seeing that nature produces almost the same effect upon trees and vegetables? For whether it be that, as the wisest men have thought, some power higher and more godlike has implanted this tendency, or that it is due to chance, we do see that the things which the earth produces are kept in health by their bark and their roots, a result which is arrived at in the case of living creatures by the way in which the senses are distributed and by a certain solid union of the limbs. Touching this subject, although I agree with those who believe that all these phenomena are governed by a natural power, and that nature could not exist herself if she disregarded them, yet I allow those who hold a different view of the matter to think as they please, and even to understand that whenever I speak of the nature of man, I mean man; for the expressions do not differ in sense, Now it is easier for each man to escape consciousness of himself than to lose his yearning after those objects which are favourable to his own existence. With justice therefore have the weightiest thinkers sought for the source of the supreme good in nature, and have sup- posed that the instinct which seeks such objects as conform to nature is inbred in all men, because such objects are in- separable from that prompting of nature whereby men love their own being.

XII. Next in order we must see wherein man’s nature consists, since it is sufficiently plain that nature endears to each man his own existence. Here we find our problem. But it is evident that man is composed of body and mind, though the rôle of the mind is superior, and that of the body in- ferior. Next we find this too, that man’s body is so shaped as to be superior to other bodies, and his mind is so formed that it bas the senses for its instruments and possesses tran- scendent intellectual power, to which the whole nature of man yields homage, since it comprises very marvellous faculties for reasoning and inquiry and knowledge and for all the virtues. Now the bodily faculties, while their influence cannot be measured against that of the mental functions, are easier to understand. So let us begin with them. It is easily seen then how agreeable to nature are the members of our body and its whole form and shape and pose, nor can we have any difficulty in understanding what form of the forehead and eyes and ears and of the other members is appropriate to man ; but assuredly he has need that his limbs should be sound and strong and should admit of their natural motions and uses, no one member being either wanting, or infirm, or impaired. These are the conditions which nature requires. There is again a certain form of bodily activity which preserves those movements and attitudes that accord with nature; and if any fault be committed in connexion with these either by reason of some deformity or injury or some movement or attitude which is unseemly, as for example if a man were to walk on his hands or were to walk not forwards but backwards, he would be seen entirely to desert his own constitution, and by stripping his manhood of its humanity, to shew hatred for nature. So also certain postures and certain contorted and cramped movements such as lewd or effeminate men affect, are against nature; thus in spite of the fact that this happens through some defect in the soul, nevertheless the perversion of man’s nature is outwardly exhibited in the body. So on the other hand all well controlled and regulated conditions, states and applications of the body are seen to conform to nature. Again the soul must not only exist but exist with a certain character; it must possess all its faculties unmarred, and no one of its excellences must be wanting. So with the senses ; each has its own excellence, which prevents anything from obstructing each as it exercises its function of making quick and free observations upon the objects which come within the sphere of sense. XIII. The soul however and that part of the soul which is supreme and which bears the name of intel- lect, has numerous excellences, but there are two primary classes; one comprising the faculties which are, as their nature shews, inbred and are styled independent of the will, the other those which, being dependent on the will, usually bear, by a better title than the others, the name of virtue, and their high quality makes them preeminent among the merits of the soul. To the former class belong aptness for learning and memory; almost all such faculties are denoted by the single word gifts, and men who possess these virtues are called gifted. The second class however consists of the great and true virtues which we describe as dependent on the will, prudence for example, temperance, courage, justice and the rest of the same kind. Now it was necessary to make these general statements about the body and the soul, which pretty well define in outline what it is that nature demands. Whence it is evident (inas- much as we love ourselves and desire all the faculties of our souls and bodies to reach perfection) that all our powers are dear to us for their own sake, and that they exercise the greatest influ- ence on the goodness of life. Now when a man aims at pre- serving his whole being it follows inevitably that his several members are dear to him also and are more dear in. proportion as they are more perfect and more admirable each in its own class. The life which is the object of our desires is one which is fully endowed with excellences of soul and body, and we needs must make the supreme good consist in this life, since in it by its very nature all objects of desire must culminate. When this is understood, we cannot doubt (inasmuch as men are essentially and for their own sakes dear to themselves) that the different classes of mental and bodily faculties and of cir- cumstances attendant on the activity or cessation from activity of both, are cherished for their inherent preciousness, and so are desired in and for themselves. Now that we have given this explanation, the inference is easy that of all our possessions those are the most desirable which claim the highest distinc- tion, so that the most desirable things are the excellences of our most valuable endowments, which are in themselves ob- jects of desire. So it will come to pass that the excellence of the soul is preferred to bodily excellence, and that the excellences of the soul which are independent of will are sur- passed by those which depend on will, to which excellences the name virtue peculiarly belongs, and which are vastly superior, because they spring from reason, the most godlike attribute of man. In fact for all those things which nature produces and sustains, so far as they are either without soul, or nearly without soul, the supreme good lies in the body, so that there seems some point in the well-known remark about the pig, that its soul was given to it instead of salt, to keep it from rotting. XIV. Now there are certain animals which possess some semblance of virtue, as is the case with lions and dogs and horses, in which we see certain activities due to the partial possession of a soul, and not merely of a body, like the swine. In man however the whole importance belongs to the soul, and in the soul itself to reason, which is the fount of virtue, this being defined as the perfection of the reason; and philosophers think that of this definition repeated expositions are necessary. | In the case even of the objects which the earth bears we find a certain form of nurture and maturity which does not fail to remind us of living creatures; so we say that a vine lives and dies, and that trees young and old flourish and grow feeble; hence it is not amiss to suppose that these, like living crea- tures, have conditions which are suited to and others which are hostile to their nature, and that a certain form of science and practice, that which belongs to the farmer, superintends their growth and nurture, so that it trims and prunes them, raises, trains, and props them, to allow of their advancing to the goal whither nature impels them; so that the vines themselves, if they had a voice, would admit that this is the treatment and fostering care which they need. And in the present instance, speaking especially of the vine, the power which tends it comes from without, since the vine itself possesses too little strength to secure for itself the best conditions, if no supervision were exercised. But suppose the vine endowed with feeling, so as to possess a certain instinct, and to act on an impulse of its own; what do you imagine it will do? Will it not. unaided see to those results which it formerly attained by aid of the vinegrower? But do you not see that it will now feel anxiety to protect its senses also and all their instincts, and all the limbs which are attached to it? So it will link with the endowments, which it always had, those which have been subsequently added, nor will it propose to itself quite the same supreme good which he who tended it laid down for it, but will desire to live in accordance with that nature which has been subsequently bestowed on it. So its supreme.good will be like that which formerly existed for it but without being the same, since it will no longer seek after the supreme good of a vegetable but of a sentient creature. What if not merely feeling has been given to it but a human soul as well? Is it not inevitable that while the old endowments remain and so must be maintained, the endowments which have been added are far dearer, and that the soul’s most excellent gifts are the dearest of all, and that the supreme good reaches its final limit along with the full perfection of the natural constitution, though thought and reason have an infinite superiority? Thus we have arrived at the limit of the whole class of objects which are sought after, and we have attained to it by a very gradual ascent from the earliest prompting of nature, and the highest object at which we arrive is one which is enriched by faultless bodily faculties along with the perfected reasoning faculties of the mind.

XV. Since nature’s scheme then is such as I have described, if, as I said at the outset, each person at the moment of birth were conscious of his being and capable of judging what faculties his whole nature as well as its several parts possessed, he would at once see the true essence of that thing which is the subject of our inquiry, I mean that good which is ultimate and supreme over all the objects of our desires, nor would it be possible for him to err in any way. The fact is however that at all events in our early days our nature is marvellously hidden from our eyes, and cannot be clearly viewed or comprehended; but as our lives advance we insensibly or rather by slow degrees acquire, I may say, a knowledge of ourselves. Thus that earliest intro- duction of ourselves to ourselves with which nature supplies us is dubious and dim, and our earliest mental impulse only aims at enabling us to continue healthy and strong; when however the light begins to dawn on us and we begin to feel what we are and wherein we differ from the lower animals, then we begin to pursue the destiny to which we were born.

And we observe something like this in animals, which at first do not stir from the place in which they were born, then each is roused by its own peculiar instinct ; we find that young snakes crawl, ducks swim, larks take the wing, oxen use their horns, and hornets their stings, in fine that each creature's nature is its guide in the conduct of life. And similar facts are evident in the case of the human race likewise. For children when first born lie still, as though they were entirely devoid of mind; when however their strength has a little increased, they make use of their minds as well as their senses, and strive to raise themselves up, and bring their hands into use, and recognise those who have charge of their nurture; afterwards they rejoice in their little companions and are delighted to associate with them and give themselves up to play, and eagerly listen to stories, and desire to bestow upon others something out of their own abundance, and examine inquisitively all that happens in their home, and begin to devise things and to learn, and are anxious not to remain ignorant of the names of people they see, and if they are victorious in the contests which they have with their young companions, they are beside themselves with de- light, if defeated, they are depressed and their spirits fall; and we must not suppose that any of these things occur without a reason. Nature indeed has so created the human faculties as to make it plain that they are formed with a view to the ac- quisition of all virtue, and for that reason children are stirred by their little mimic virtues, the seeds of which they possess within themselves—and that quite apart from learning; for these are primary natural gifts, and when these have grown the budding virtues (so to speak) are developed. Now inas- much as we are so born and so constructed that we hold within us the first beginnings of action and affection and generosity and gratitude, and we possess minds which incline to know- ledge, wisdom, and courage, and recoil from the opposites of these, the fact is not fortuitous that we see in children those sparks as it were of virtues, which I have mentioned, which must kindle the flame of philosophic thought, so that by following the guidance of thought, as though of something divine, one may reach the goal to which nature points him. Indeed, as I have often already observed, in the weak period of life, when the intellect is feeble, our natural faculties are seen as though through a mist, but when the mind as it ad- vances becomes robust, it indeed feels conscious of the natural faculties, but in this sense that they are seen to be capable of further progress, though they exist of themselves merely in outline. XVI. We must force our way therefore into nature’s secrets, and thoroughly see what it is that she demands; in no other way can we get a knowledge of ourselves. This maxim, because it was too high to be thought to have proceeded from man, was on that account attributed to a god. The Pythian Apollo then bids us learn to know ourselves; now knowledge of ourselves can only mean this, that we should get to know our bodily and mental powers, and pursue that kind of life which leads to the full enjoyment of those powers. Since however the earliest mental impulse was such as to incline us to acquire those conditions of which I have spoken, in the most fully developed form that nature allows, we must agree that when we have attained to that which our impulse aimed at, nature halts at that point, having reached, as it were, her goal, and there finds the ultimate good; and this good in its entirety must be an object of desire on its own account, and in and for itself, inasmuch as we have before shewn that its individual parts also are in themselves desirable. Now if it occurs to any one that in reckoning .up the bodily advantages we have over- looked pleasure, let the discussion of it be postponed till another occasion. For our present purpose it makes no differ- ence whether pleasure is one of those objects which we have described as the earliest in the order of nature, or not. If as is my opinion, pleasure is not wanted to complete the list of natural advantages, we have been right in neglecting it; but if - pleasure possesses the attributes which some assign to her, that is no objection to the general view of the supreme good which we have put forward, for if pleasure is added to the list of elementary natural objects laid down by us, there will only be one bodily advantage the more, nor will it disturb the settlement of the supreme good which we have put forward.

XVII. As yet, indeed, our system has been so developed as to derive its principles entirely from the first promptings of nature. Now however it is time for us to trace out another form of demonstration, to shew that, not merely because we love our own personality, but because each portion of our nature, whether bodily or mental, has its own faculties, therefore we are in the fullest sense of the words roused to action in respect of these matters because we regard ourselves. And to begin with the body, do you not see how studiously men conceal any distortions or afflictions or deformities of their limbs? They even strive and toil in the hope of being able to render the bodily defect either not noticeable at all, or as little noticeable as possible, and tolerate many tortures to arrive at a remedy, so that the limbs may be brought back to their natural form, even though their utility will thereby be not only not increased, but actually impaired. [Further, inasmuch as all believe that their whole personality is by nature’s ordinance a thing desirable, and that too for their own sake merely, and not from any other motive, it follows inevitably that we must regard as desirable for their own sake the several portions of that whole which we feel to be for its own sake desirable.] Well, is there in the movements or positions of the body, nothing to which nature herself declares we ought to pay heed? How we are to walk and sit, how each one is to compose his features and arrange his expression? Is there nothing connected with all these matters which we account to be worthy or unworthy of a free-born man? Do we not look upon as meriting our dislike many whom we believe to have shewn their disregard of nature’s law and nature’s limits by a certain kind of movement or a certain attitude? And since the body is usually kept free from all such practices, why should it not be right to consider comeliness - also as in itself an object worthy of our desires? For if we suppose bodily deformities and defects to be in themselves matters which we should shun, why should we not feel at- tracted in the same or perhaps in a greater measure by the distinction of beauty, and that for its own sake? And if we shun ugliness as exhibited in movement or repose, why should we not aim at comeliness? And so we shall desire health, strength and freedom from pain, not merely with a view to their uses but also in and for themselves. Inasmuch as nature desires perfection in all her parts, she desires for their own sake such bodily positions as are most in accord with her own laws, and nature is entirely thrown into confusion when the body is either sick, or in pain, or wanting in strength.

XVIII. Let us glance at the mental faculties, for the light in which we view them is more brilliant; and in proportion as they are more lofty, so the information they give us about nature is more lucid. Well then, we have inbred in us so great a passion for inquiry and knowledge, that no one can have any doubt that man’s nature is urged to the pursuit of these objects without the allurement of any utility. Do we not see how children are not frightened away from considering and inquiring into things even by being beaten? How though driven off they return to them? How they delight in the possession of some knowledge? How they hanker to tell the story to others? How intent they are upon processions, races, and other shows of the kind, and how for such an enjoyment they tolerate even hunger and thirst? Again do we not see those whose delight is in liberal pursuits and accomplishments, neglecting health and property alike, and enduring everything because fascinated by inquiry and knowledge in themselves, and always paying for the pleasure which learning brings them, by the most serious anxiety and toil? I believe that Homer had some such idea when he imagined his tale of the Sirens’ music. They indeed do not seem to have been wont to stay the passer by through any sweetness in their voices or any freshness or picturesqueness in their music, but because they proclaimed themselves to know much, so that men were dashed against their crags because they longed to learn. This is how they entice Ulysses (for I have translated that very passage, like others of Homer). Ulysses, pride of the Greeks, why not steer hitherward thy bark, that thy ears may catch our songs? For none has ever sped past these blue deeps, but first he did stay when our sweet notes charmed him, then, his yearning heart full of subtle lore, did he glide on, more knowing far, till he reached the coast of his fatherland. We know about the stern struggle of the war and the doom which Greece by the will divine brought upon Troy, and all that eer befell, the wide earth over. Homer saw that his tale could not please his readers if so mighty a hero were to be snared and spell-bound by a mere ditty; it is knowledge they offer him, and it was no wonder that one eager after wisdom found it more precious than his fatherland. Now to long to know everything of whatever kind, betrays the inquisitive man, but we must think that he who by reflecting on matters of great import is led to an ardent pursuit of science, takes rank with the highest of men.

XIX. What, think you, was the enthusiasm for research by which Archimedes was possessed, who, while drawing some figure with great care on the sand, was unconscious that his native city had fallen into the enemy’s hand? What great gifts did Aristoxenus lavish, as we read, upon music! With what keen zest, as we believe, did Aristophanes pass his life in pursuit of literature! What need to speak of Pytha- goras, of Plato or of Democritus? All these, as we read, wandered to the ends of the earth in their eagerness for in- formation. Now any who do not understand all this have never felt a passion for any subject which is important and worthy of inquiry. And as regards this point, those who say that these pursuits of which I have spoken are followed with an eye to mental pleasures, do not perceive that they are shewn to be in and for themselves desirable by the fact that our minds delight in them even without hope of advantage and take pleasure in the knowledge merely, even with the prospect of inconvenience. But what profits it to seek for more argu- ments concerning facts which are so patent? Let us put the question to ourselves how it is that the movement of the stars and the spectacle of the heavenly bodies and the theories of all phenomena which are veiled in nature’s mystery cause excite- ment in us, and why we are pleased with history and often trace it out in its most remote details; we go back again to points we had overlooked and follow up the clue we have just found. Nor am I unaware that history brings with it use, and not merely pleasure. But how is it when we read with pleasure stories founded on imagination, from which we cannot possibly extract profit? How is it when we desire to become familiar with the names of those who have achieved something great, and their lineage, their country and many other alto- gether unessential details? How about the fact that men of the lowest rank who have no expectation of sharing in the government, and in fact artisans, feel a pleasure in history ? And more than all others we may see men who because age has impaired their strength are cut off from the hope of achieving anything, yet desire to hear and read of what has been achieved in the past. On that account we must needs understand that the subjects themselves which are learned and examined possess certain allurements which incite us to learning and inquiry. Now the old thinkers feign a description of the life that wise men will lead in the islands of the blest; these, as they think, when once freed from all trouble and needing none of the services or preparations indispensable in life, will find nothing to do but to spend all their time in acquiring a knowledge of nature by investigation and study. We however see that such pursuits do not only form the delight of a happy life but are also the mitigation of wretchedness, and therefore many when in the power of their foes, or of despots, many in -prison and many in exile have lightened their grief by devoting themselves to learning. A leading statesman of this city, Demetrius Phalereus, having been unjustly driven from his country, took refuge with king Ptolemy at Alexandria. Being proficient in the very system of philosophy which I am now advising you to adopt, and a pupil of Theophrastus, he wrote during that disastrous leisure many splendid works, not for any practical uses of his own, for he was cut off from all such, but this was for him mental cultivation and a kind of food, so to speak, for his cultured soul. I have often heard Gnaeus Aufidius, the former praetor, a well-informed man but blind, say that he was stirred by a longing rather for the light than for any practical advantage. Moreover we should think that the gift of sleep was unnatural did it not bring with it rest for our bodies, and a kind of remedy for toil; it does indeed deprive us of perception and all activity; so if nature did not demand rest or could gain it by some other method, we would cheerfully bear the loss of it, seeing that we often as it is submit to wakefulness almost in nature’s despite when we wish to do some business or to learn something. |

XX. There are moreover many signs that are more evi- dent, or rather entirely plain and beyond possibility of doubt, by which nature shews, most conspicuously of course in man, but in every living creature as well, how the mind yearns after constant activity, and cannot on any terms endure un- interrupted repose. It is easy to see this in the first tender years of children’s lives. Now although I am afraid of being thought to push on in this line of argument too far, still all the older thinkers, particularly those of our school, go back to the nursery because they think that in childhood they can most readily observe the tendencies of nature. We see then how impossible even babes find it to keep still: when again they have grown a little older, they are pleased even with toil- some amusements, from which they cannot be kept even by flogging. And this passion for occupation matures with the maturing years. So we should decline the boon of Endymion’s sleep even if we believed we should enjoy the most delightful dreams, and if it were bestowed upon us, we should consider it the same as death. Again, we see the laziest men, even if characterised by the most unsurpassable worthlessness, roused nevertheless continually to bodily and mental activity, and when they are not tied down to any compulsory employment, we see them either call for a dice-board or look about for some recreation, or try to find some one to chat with, and though destitute of the liberal pleasures which learning brings, yet eager to join some street groups or cliques at the board. Nay, the beasts which we imprison for our own amusement, though more plentifully fed than if they were free, do not pa- tiently endure their confinement, and feel the loss of those free and capricious movements which nature herself allowed them. So the better a man’s birth and education, the less willing would he be to continue in life, if he were cut off from active business, even though he might revel in the most exquisite pleasures. In.fact, people prefer either to carry on business of their own, or where their spirit s more lofty, by rising to office and com- mands, they take in hand public business; or else they give all their energy to the pursuit of learning; and amid such a life so far are they from havirg pleasure in view, that they actually tolerate vexations, troubles and sleepless nights, and they de- light in the keenness of their talent and understanding, which © is the most excellent part of man, and must be reckoned as a godlike essence dwelling within us, nor do they either seek pleasure or avoid toil, nor again do they flag in their passion for those discoveries which were made by the men of old, or for the tracking out of new ones; as their enthusiasm can never grow weary, they forget all things outside them and put away from them all mean and sordid thoughts; and so great is the hold which these pursuits have upon them that we even see the men who have adopted quite other views of the ultimate good, which they shape by the idea of advantage or pleasure, still pass their lives in investigating and elucidating the realm of nature.

XXI. Hence we see this fact, that we are born to a life of activity. Now activities are of several kinds, so that the less important are thrown into the shade by the more im- portant, the most important being in the first place, as I think, and as those too think with whose system we are now con- cerned, reflection upon and inquiry into the phenomena of the heavens, especially those which nature has studiously con- cealed but whose mysteries reason is competent to explore; next in importance comes the government of commonwealths, or the science of their government, then a method of life based on prudence, temperance, courage, justice and the other virtues, and such actions as accord with the virtues, all of which matters we embrace in a single expression and call morality; and under nature’s own guidance we are led to know and practise them, when once we have reached the age of steadiness. Indeed the first beginnings of all things are small, but when they have put forth their power of improvement, they shew increase, and naturally so; for human beings at birth exhibit a certain frailty and softness, so that they cannot discern or carry out the courses which are best. For the splendour of virtue and happiness, the two objects most worthy of desire, only dawns on them at a late period, and only at a much later period still is their nature fully understood. For Plato nobly said: blessed is he to whom it has been given in old age to be able to arrive at wisdom and right opinion. So inasmuch as we have said enough about the primary endowments of nature, let us now cast a glance at the more important matters which are posterior to them. The body of man then has been so created and moulded by nature, that she brings to completion some of its faculties at birth, and shapes others as life advances, certainly without availing herself much of aids lying outside the body, and accidental to it; the mind she has endowed in nearly all respects as fully as the body; for she equipped it with the senses, which are so well adapted for making observations of external objects, that they need little or no extraneous aid to establish them ; but nature did neglect one thing which is most excellent and most important in man. Although she bestowed upon him a mind capable of grasping all virtue, and, apart from any teaching, implanted in him rudimentary ideas of the most important matters, and began, so to speak, his education, and included among his constitutional endowments the ground-work, as we may call it, of the virtues, yet virtue itself she merely sketched in outline, nothing more. So it is our business (when I say our business I mean it is the business of our science) to draw out from those elements which have been given us their appropriate results, until we have arrived at the end which we propose to ourselves ; which end is considerably more valuable and more inherently desirable than are either our senses or those bodily © faculties of which we have spoken, which are so completely inferior to the preeminent perfection of the mind, that it is scarcely possible to imagine the gap which separates them. _ So every distinction, every form of admiration, every pursuit is judged by a reference to virtue and the actions which accord with it, and all thoughts and actions agreeing with it are denoted by the one expression moral. And what are the ideas pertaining to all moral actions, and what actions are denoted by the various names, and what is the peculiarity and the essence of each, all this we shall examine soon; (XXII) at this point let us merely make this plain, that these moral actions of which I speak are (quite apart from the love which we bear to our own personalities) in their own essential nature inherently desirable. This is seen in children, in whom nature is reflected as in a mirror. What passion they throw into their contests! How serious are the struggles themselves! How they are overpowered by delight when they have won the victory, how disgraced they are by defeat! How they loathe to be blamed; what an appetite they have for praise! What toils do they endure that they may take the first rank among their companions! How strong is their re- membrance of those who are kind to them, how great their eagerness to requite a kindness! And these qualities are most conspicuous in the best dispositions, in which this morality, which is now in our thoughts, is so to speak drawn by nature in outline. But this is the case with children; the outlines are filled in when life has advanced to its period of strength. Who is so unlike a true man, as to be careless about the hatred excited by baseness and the approval secured by virtue? Who does not revolt from a youth spent in lust and wantonness? On the other hand, who would not esteem honour and steadiness in one of that time of life, even if it were not at all to his own advantage? Who does not dislike the traitor Pullus Numitorius of Fregellae, though he did ser- vice to our own country? Who does not greatly extol Codrus the saviour of this city, and the daughters of Erechtheus? Who does not loathe the name of Tubulus? Who does not love Aristides, dead though he be? Do we forget how greatly we are affected when we hear or read the tale of some deed - that bespeaks affection, friendship or greatness of soul? Why do I speak of ourselves, who were born and reared and edu- cated with a view to honesty and good fame? What shouts are raised in the theatre by the mob and all ignorant men, when the passage is spoken I am Orestes; and on the other hand the friend answers No indeed, I am Orestes, I declare. When again, they both actually prompt to a decision the con- fused and troubled king: we both then pray to die together: whenever this is acted, is it ever received except with the most unbounded admiration? There are none then who do not sanction and applaud this attitude of the mind, whereby it not merely aims at the attainment of no advantage, but actually maintains honour in the teeth of all advantage. Not only the fictions of the imagination but also the pages of history and more particularly our own history, are rich in instances of the kind. We indeed selected to take over the sacred rites of Ida a man of the highest character; such men we have dispatched to be guardians to princes; our generals have often sacrificed their lives for their country’s deliverance; our consuls have given to a prince who was their deadly foe and was drawing near to their walls, a warning to beware of poison; in our community one was found who expiated by a self- inflicted death the shame she had suffered through violence; one too who put his own child to death, to save her from shame; and who does not understand that the actors in all these and many like scenes were guided by the brilliant light of honour, and thought nothing of advantage to themselves, and that we too in eulogising them are impelled by nothing but a regard for morality ?

XXIII. Now that we have given these brief explanations (for I have not of course gone through the whole store of examples I might have used, inasmuch as the facts could not be doubtful) but these considerations assuredly prove that all the virtues with morality, which springs from them and is in- herent in them, are in themselves a thing worthy to be desired. In the whole field of morality, which is our present theme, there is nothing so splendid or so far-reaching as the union of men with men and their fellowship (if I may so call it) and their interchange of services, and the mere affection for the human race, which taking its rise in our earliest origin, (inasmuch as the offspring is the object of regard to its pro- genitors, and the family is entirely held together by marriage and community of blood) then extends itself by degrees to those outside, first by means of relationships, then by marriage connexions, then by friendships, then by the tie of neighbour- hood, then by the aid of fellow citizens and all who are on public grounds associated and intimate with us, then by em- bracing in its scope the whole of mankind. This disposition of the mind, because it assigns to each individual: what is his own, and because it. liberally and fairly maintains the bonds of human society, receives the name of justice, and with it are connected reverence, goodness, generosity, kindliness, courtesy, and all virtues of the same class, which while peculiarly con- nected with justice, have yet ties that bind them to the other virtues. Now inasmuch as the constitution of man has been so constructed that it contains within it a certain instinct for what we may term association and common life, which the Greeks call the political instinct, each individual virtue will, whatever its practice, be not averse to that common life and affection for and fellowship with the human race, of which I have given an account, and justice in turn, as she will in practice herself expand into the other virtues, so will feel the need of them. For only a strong man or a wise man can main- tain justice. This whole concord and harmony of the several virtues gives a character to morality itself, since morality is either in itself virtue or something exhibiting virtue in practice; and when a life is in harmony with. such conditions and answers to the call of the virtues it may be pronounced upright and moral and consistent and in agreement with nature. Further, this union and inter-penetration of the virtues is nevertheless by a certain method disentangled by philosophers. For though they are so closely linked and united that each claims a share in every other, and they cannot be disjoined one from another, nevertheless each has its own peculiar office, so that courage is displayed in hardships and hazards, temperance in the rejection of pleasures, prudence in the selection from among things good and things evil, justice in the assignment to each man of that which is his due. Since then every virtue implies a certain anxiety which looks beyond self, so to speak, and seeks out and fosters others, we have this result, that friends, brothers, relations, connexions, fellow countrymen, all men in fine (since we suppose all men to be bound in one association) are objects of regard in and for themselves. Yet none of these objects of regard is of such a nature as to be comprised within the ultimate and supreme good. Thus we discover two kinds of matters which are in and for them- selves desirable, one consisting of those circumstances which go to make up the supreme good, I mean such as are con- nected with the mind and the body ; while these other matters, which are external, by which I mean that they form part neither of mind nor body, friends, for example, parents, children, relations, our country itself, are indeed dear to us for what they are in themselves, but they do not belong to the same class as the rest. Indeed no one would ever be able to attain to the ultimate good, if all the external objects, however desirable they may be, were comprised within the su- preme good. XXIV. How then, you will say, can it possibly be true that the value of all objects is determined by compari- son with the supreme good, if friendships, relationships and all other external circumstances form no part of the supreme good? The principle, you see, is this, that we sustain our external relations by practising those moral actions which spring from the several classes of virtues. For attention bestowed on a friend or a parent benefits the person who does his duty to- wards them, by the mere fact that performance of such duty belongs to the class of moral actions to which the virtues have given rise. And such actions are pursued by men of wisdom under nature’s guidance; but men who have not arrived at perfection, though they possess striking natural powers, are often influenced by fame, which exhibits a likeness and re- semblance to morality. Now if they could see into the inner essence of faultless and perfect morality, which vastly surpasses all things in splendour and merit, what ecstasy would fill their minds, delighted as they are with a dim suggestion of the original! What man is there who, being the slave of pleasure and having his nature all ablaze with the fire of his passions, excited by the enjoyment of the objects which he had with the greatest intensity desired, yet can be supposed to be steeped In joy so vast as that felt either by the elder Africanus on the conquest of Hannibal, or by the younger at the ruin of Carthage? Who ever felt so keen a zest over the voyage down the Tiber on the general holiday, as was experienced by Lucius Paulus when he sailed up the same stream bringing with him the captive king Perses? Well then, dear Lucius, rear in your mind a towering and imposing structure of the vir- tues; you will then have no doubt that men who possess these, who live like men of great and lofty souls, are at all times happy, inasmuch as they know that all the revolutions of fortune and the changes of circumstances and occasions will prove insignificant and feeble if they come into con- flict with virtue. Those good things, in fact, which we classed as bodily advantages, do indeed go to complete the greatest possible happiness, yet happiness may be achieved without them. The addition of these advantages is of such slight and trivial consequence that just as starlight is extinguished by the sun’s beams, so we do not descry these matters amid the brilliant light of the virtues. Again, as it is truly said that the influence exerted upon happiness by those bodily blessings is small, so on the other hand it is too overbearing to say that they have none; and the men who put forward this opinion seem to me to have forgotten even those fundamental natural endowments which they have themselves laid down. We must therefore allow these matters a certain amount of consideration, provided that you clearly understand how much ought to be allowed them. A philosopher who is in search not so much of boastful phrases as of truths must on the one hand not wholly disregard objects which the boastful men them- selves admit to be in agreement with nature, and on the other must see that so great is the power of virtue and so great the prestige, so to speak, of morality, that all else is not indeed actually worthless but so trifling as to appear to us worthless. This language befits a man who while he does not pour con- tempt on everything but virtue, yet lavishes on virtue her- self all the praise that is her due; in fine in this way our exposition of the supreme good receives its full completion on all its sides. The other schools have tried to catch at some elements of this supreme good, and each has desired to get credit for putting forward an original opinion. XXV. Aristotle and Theophrastus have often extolled in a surprising way the pursuit of knowledge for its own sake; fascinated by this be- yond all else, Erillus supported the view that knowledge is the supreme good, and that nothing else is an object intrinsically worthy of our desires. The ancients have spoken much about disregarding and scorning human chances; this was the one consideration to which Aristo clung; he declared that with the exception of vice and virtue there was nothing worth either shunning or desiring. Our school have laid down that free- dom from pain is one of the conditions in accord with nature; Hieronymus affirmed it to be the supreme good. But again Callipho and after him Diodorus, the one having fallen in love with pleasure, the other with freedom from pain, could neither of them dispense with morality, which has been ex- tolled in the highest degree by the men of our school. Nay, even the partisans of pleasure look out for ways of escape and chatter about virtue for whole days together, and say that pleasure is only in the early stages an object of desire, that afterwards habit gives rise to a sort of second nature, whereby men are induced to do many actions without keeping pleasure in view. There only remain the Stoics. These in- deed have not adopted from us one or two points, but have taken to themselves our whole philosophy. And just as the ordinary thieves change the marks of the objects which they have stolen, so these, desiring to pass off our opinions as their own, changed the terms which were so to speak the marks impressed on the doctrines. Thus our system is left as the only one worthy of those who are devoted to the liberal arts, worthy of scholars, of distinguished men, of leading states- men, of princes.’ When he had spoken thus, and had paused a little, he said: ‘how now? Do you not think that I have used sufficiently my privilege of trying your ears with my rehearsal?’ ‘I declare, Piso, said I, ‘that to-day as often before, you have shewn yourself to be so familiar with the subject, that if you would give us more frequent opportunities of hearing you, I should not think it necessary to beg many lessons of the Greeks. And I have been the better pleased with your ex- position, because I recollect that Staseas of Naples, your old instructor, an undoubtedly eminent Peripatetic, used to give a considerably different account of the matter; agreeing with those who attached a good deal of importance to fortune’s smiles and frowns and to bodily advantages and disadvantages,’ ‘What you say is true, said he, ‘but our friend Antiochus gives a better and stronger view of the subject than that which Staseas used to support. Yet I do not ask in what respects I have secured your approval, but rather that of our friend Cicero, whom I am anxious to steal away from your tutelage.’ XXVI. Then said Lucius: ‘indeed I highly approve of your views, and I think my cousin does so too. Then Piso said: ‘well, well, are you going to forgive our young friend? Or would you rather that he learned doctrines which will land him in ignorance when he has thoroughly mastered them?’ ‘So far as Lucius is concerned,’ I answered, ‘I let him go; but do you not remember that I am quite free to express my liking for the statements put forward by you? Who can refrain from expressing his liking for doctrines which seem to him full of . likelihood ? ‘Or rather,’ said he, ‘can any one express a liking for any doctrine which he does not hold as perceived, appre- hended and thoroughly known?’ ‘The difference between us, Piso, is not important, I replied. ‘The only reason I have for thinking perception impossible is that the essential marks of a perception are explained by the Stoics in such terms as to make a perception altogether impossible, unless it wears such an aspect of truth as a deceptive perception cannot possibly present. So my disagreement is with the Stoics; with the Peri- patetics I have certainly none. But let us pass the matter over; it opens up indeed a very long and rather contentious debate ; but there is one statement I think you have made with too much precipitation, namely, that all wise men are at all times happy. Somehow or other your speech flew past this point. Unless formal proof of it is given, I fear that everything Theo- phrastus said may prove true, I mean about prosperity and pain and bodily torments, with which he thought happiness could not co-exist; since it is glaringly inconsistent to say that a man is happy and at the same time weighed down by many miseries. I for my part do not perceive how two such assertions agree with one another. ‘Which doctrine, then, said he, ‘do you deny, the doctrine that virtue is so powerful as to supply happiness out of her own resources, or if you believe this, do you assert it to be impossible that men who are in possession of virtue should be happy even if attacked by certain evils?’ ‘I for my part would like the power of virtue to be as great as possible, but the question of its greatness is for another occasion ; I only ask now whether it can be so great, if anything lying outside virtue is admitted to be good.’ ‘Well but,’ said he, ‘if you grant the Stoics that the mere presence of virtue produces happiness, you grant it to the Peripatetics likewise; since all the objects which they have not the courage to call evils, though they allow them to be hardships and inconveniences, and matters to be declined, and matters at variance with na- ture, all these we call evils, though evils of slight and almost infinitesimal consequence. So if he who is surrounded by cir- cumstances such as are hard and deserve to be declined can be happy, then so can he be happy who is surrounded by trivial evils. Then I said: ‘Piso, if there is a man who is always keen-sighted in detecting the question at issue in a case, you assuredly are the man. So pray give me your attention. For as yet you do not see the drift of my question, though perhaps that is my fault. ‘I am at your service,’ said he, ‘and eager to hear your answer to the question I put to you? XXVII. ‘My answer will be that I am not at this moment asking what nature has the power to bring about, but what statements are consistent and what are at variance with themselves.” ‘How do you mean?’ said he. ‘The matter is thus, I answered; ‘when Zeno pronounces this splendid sentence, as though from the shrine of prophecy: virtue asks no extraneous aid to pro- duce happiness, some one says “why so?” and he replies: because nothing else s good but that which s moral. Iam no longer inquiring whether the doctrine is true, I merely say that these statements of his accord excellently. Suppose Epicurus to have made the same statement that the wise man is always happy; and indeed he is in the habit of blurting it out at times, and declares that the wise man, when he is being worn away by the intensest pains, will cry out How sweet it is/ How indifferent am I/ Ishould not quarrel with the man for having so much good in his disposition; I should press upon him that he does not perceive what he ought to say, after pro- claiming pain to be the supreme evil. My complaint against you is now the same. You describe as good and evil all the things so described by the men who have never even seen a philosopher in a picture, as the proverb goes, health, strength, bearing, beauty, soundness of all the nails you call good, while deformity, disease and weakness you call evil. Further, you on your part dealt reservedly with external advantages: but as these bodily advantages are things good, surely you will account as things good all objects productive of them, friends, children, relations, wealth, distinctions, influence. Understand that I say not a word against this view: but I do say that if the ac- cidents, which may well happen to the wise man, are evils, then to be a wise man is not sufficient to secure happiness.’ ‘Nay, rather, he replied, ‘it is insufficient to secure perfect happiness, but sufficient for happiness. ‘I have observed, said I, ‘that you laid down this position a little while since, and I know that our friend Antiochus usually puts the matter thus: but what is less worthy of assent, than that there is some one who is happy, without being happy enough? More- over, whatever addition is made to what is enough renders - it excessive, and no one is happy to excess; so if a man is happy he cannot be happier.” ‘Consequently,’ he replied, ‘in your eyes Quintus Metellus, who saw three sons receive the consulship, and one of them moreover the censorship and a triumph, while a fourth attained the praetorship, and left them behind him safe and sound, with three daughters married, while he himself had enjoyed the consulship, censorship, au- gurate, and a triumph,—in your eyes, supposing him to have been a wise man, was he no happier than Regulus, supposing him also to have been a wise man, though, when in the enemy's hands, he was put to death by sleeplessness and hunger ?’

XXVIII. ‘Why do you ask me the question?’ I said. ‘Put it to the Stoics? ‘Well; said he, ‘what answer do you suppose they will give?’ ‘That Metellus was no happier than Regulus.’ ‘We must begin at that point, then,’ he rejoined. ‘Oh, but we are straying from our subject, I said. ‘I am not asking what doctrines are true, but what each thinker is bound to state. I only wish they would say that one man is happier than another. You would soon see a disaster. For as good has been made to reside in virtue only and in fact in morality, and as, according to their view, neither virtue nor morality admits of increase, and as that good of theirs is the only thing the possession of which inevitably makes a man happy, how can one man be happier than another, when that thing on which alone happiness depends cannot be increased? Do you see how these statements are to agree? Yet I declare (for I must confess what I think) that the coherence of their doctrines is extraordinary. The conclusion agrees with the major premiss ; the minor premiss with both ; everything agrees with every- thing else; they understand what inference is, what incon- sistency is. Just as in mathematics, if you concede the premisses, you must concede everything. Grant that there is nothing good but what is moral; you must grant that virtue is the one condition of happiness. Look at the doctrines in the reverse order. Concede this and you must concede that. Your own school are not like this. There are three classes of things good; your exposition runs on headlong; it arrives at its conclusion, and finds itself in difficulties ; what it longs to say- is that a wise man can find nothing wanting to his happiness. A doctrine that is moral, Socratic, even Platonic? ‘I am | bold enough to assert it, said he. ‘You cannot, unless you take to pieces your former statements. If poverty is an evil, no beggar can be happy, however wise he be. But Zeno was bold enough to declare him not merely happy but even rich. Pain is an evil; he who is driven to crucifixion cannot be happy. Children are a blessing; childlessness then is unhappiness; your fatherland is a blessing; banishment then is unhappiness; health is a blessing ; disease then is unhappiness ; bodily sound- ness is a blessing; weakness then is unhappiness; unimpaired sight is a blessing; blindness then is unhappiness. . And even if one can soothe these things separately by solaces, how shall one bear up against all combined? Suppose the same man to be blind, weak, worn by a very heavy illness, an exile, childless, a beggar, let him be tortured on the rack; what do you call such a man, Zeno? Happy, he says. Even as happy as possible? Of course, he will say, for I have proved that happiness, no more than virtue, admits of degrees, and in virtue happiness itself lies. You cannot believe this, because of his doctrine that the man is as happy as possible. Well, is yours easy to believe? Indeed, if you appeal against me to the people, you will never persuade them that a man in such cir- cumstances is happy; if to men of sense, they will perhaps. hesitate about the one point, whether virtue has such power _that those who possess it are happy even in the bull of Phalaris ; about the other they will never hesitate, that the Stoic statements are consistent with themselves, and yours Inconsistent.’ ‘Then do you approve,’ he said, ‘the well-known book of Theophrastus about happiness?’ ‘Oh, but we are wandering from our purpose,’ said I, ‘so to cut the matter . short, I quite approve it, if the circumstances we are discussing are evils. ‘Don’t you think them evils, then?’ he rejoined. ‘Your question is such,’ I answered, ‘that whatever my reply, you must needs find yourself in a dilemma. ‘How so? he said. ‘Because if they are evils, the man who is in the midst of them will not be happy; if they are not evils, the whole system of the Peripatetics is overthrown.’ Then he remarked with a smile: ‘I see your purpose; you are afraid I shall withdraw your pupil from you.’ ‘ You may draw him,’ said I; ‘if he will follow you; for he will be on my side, if he is on yours,’ XXIX. ‘Listen then, Lucius, he proceeded, ‘for I must address my speech to you. The whole influence of philosophy, as Theophrastus says, lies in the production of happiness; for we are all fired with the passion for a happy life. On this your cousin and I are agreed. So we must look to this point, whether any scheme of philosophers can give us this boon. They certainly promise it. Unless this was his purpose, why did Plato wander over Egypt, to learn mathematics and astronomy from the foreign priests? Why afterwards did he visit Archytas at Tarentum ? Why did he visit the rest of the Pythagoreans, Echecrates, Timaeus, Arion at Locri, in order that, after he had embodied the doctrines of Socrates, he might add to them the scheme of the Pythagoreans, and might get to know all that Socrates used to reject? Why did Pythagoras himself pass through Egypt and visit the Persian magi? Why did he traverse on foot such vast tracts among barbarians, and cross over so many seas? Why did Democritus do the same ? He is said (whether truly or falsely we shall not ask) to have put out his own eyes; it is certain that he disregarded his family property in order that he might withdraw his mind as little as possible from his speculations; he neglected and left untilled his estate, and what was his object except happiness ? And even if he placed this in knowledge, still he wished to gain, from his inquiries into nature,a cheerful mind. In fact he calls the supreme good by the name ev@uyia and often dgapßia, which means a mind free from dread. But although these statements were remarkable, still they lacked as yet _ thorough finish. He said little about virtue and that little was itself not clearly stated. It was afterwards that Socrates in this city first began these questionings, which were at a later time transferred to this spot, nor was there ever any doubt that on virtue depended all our hope for a good as well as a happy life. And when Zeno had learnt this lesson from our school, he followed the injunction often given in law suits: the same question under other forms. And now you applaud in him this proceeding. He, be it understood, escaped the charge of inconsistency, by changing his terminology, yet we cannot escape it! He says the life of Metellus was not happier than that of Regulus; yet it was preferable; nor was it more de- sirable, but more choiceworthy, and if selection were allowed, the life of Metellus was to be selected, that of Regulus to be rejected ; I describe that life as happier, which he describes as preferable, and more worthy of selection, while I do not assign ‘more value by the faintest turn of the balance to that life than do the Stoics. What difference is there, unless that I denote familiar things by familiar titles, while they search for new terms whereby to express the same meaning? So just as at meetings of the senate there is always some one who requests an interpreter, so we must give him audience in presence of an interpreter. I describe as good whatever accords with nature, and as bad, the opposite ; nor am I alone, but you, Chrysippus, do so as well in the street and at your home; when in the professorial chair you pause. Well then, do you think that men ought to talk one language and philosophers another ? The learned and the unlearned set different values on in- dividual things ; but when the learned are agreed on the value of each object, they would, if they were ordinary men, talk in common language ; but, provided that the substance remains the same, let them invent phrases as they please.

XXX. But, lest you should say I digress too often, I come now to the charge of inconsistency ; and inconsistency you say lies in language, while I thought it lay in subject-matter. If a clear insight has been gained into this doctrine, for which we find in the Stoics admirable supporters, that virtue is powerful enough to eclipse all else, if placed in contrast, then next, as regards all those things which the Stoics undoubtedly describe as advan- tageous and choiceworthy and deserving of selection and pre- ferable (now they define preferable things as those entitled to considerable value)—well then, as regards these matters, which the Stoics denote by so many titles, in part novel and invented, like the phrases things advanced and things degraded, in part bearing the same sense as before (what difference, pray, does it make, whether you desire a thing or choose it? In my eyes at any rate a thing which is chosen and on which discrimination is exercised has even greater importance)—well, when I have named all these matters good, the only question of consequence is how great importance I assign to them; when desirable, what degree of desirability. If however I mean nothing stronger by desirable than you by choiceworthy, and if I who call the things good, set no higher value on them than you who call them things advanced, then all these things must needs be overshadowed and obscured, and must be lost in the rays of virtue, as of the sun’s orb. But it is said that any life into which something of evil enters cannot be happy. Nor can the corn shew fruitful and numerous ears, if you see a stalk of darnel anywhere, nor can a business be profitable, if among enormous yains it incurs some small loss. Or, while my view is true generally, does the opposite hold when we judge of life? And will you not estimate it as a whole by its most important portion? Or is it doubtful that virtue so truly constitutes the most important part of human affairs that it obscures the rest? I will make bold then to call the other things which accord with nature by the name good; and shall prefer not to rob them of their ancient title, rather than to seek out some new phrase, while I shall place the riches of virtue in the opposite scale of the balance, so to speak. That scale, believe me, will weigh down the earth and the seas together. Surely the whole of an object is always named from that constituent of it which comprises the elements of the greatest importance, and has the most far-reaching effect. We say some man lives a jovial life ; does he lose his jovial life if he is for once thrown into sadness ? But it did not happen in the case of that Marcus Crassus, who, as Lucilius says, only smiled once in his life, that he bore any the less on that account the name dyénacros, as the same Lucilius has it. Men used to call Polycrates of Samos fortunate. Nothing contrary to his wishes had occurred to him, except that he had thrown away in the sea a ring of which he was fond. So he was unfortunate owing to this one annoyance, and fortunate once more, when the very ring was discovered in the inside of a fish? But he, if an unwise man (as he certainly was, being a despot) was never happy ; if a wise man, he was not even then unhappy when he was driven to crucifixion by Oroetes, the general of Darius. But he was tried by many mis- fortunes. Who denies it? Yet those misfortunes were ob- scured by the grandeur of virtue.

XXXI. Or do you not even allow the Peripatetics to say that the lives of all good men, meaning thereby wise men, men endowed with all excellences, always possess decidedly more good than ill? Who says this? The Stoics of course. Far from it; do not rather the very men who gauge everything by pleasure and pain, cry aloud that the wise man is always attended by more of the things he wants than of those he does not want? Therefore, as such importance is attached to virtue by those who confess that they would not wave their hands for virtue’s sake, unless she aroused in them pleasure, what ought we to do, who assert that an intellectual excellence, even the least important of all, so far outshines all bodily advantages that these are even lost to view? Who of us would dare to affirm ` that the wise man is capable of putting from him (could he do so) his virtue for ever, in order to free himself from all pain? Who on our side will say (though we are not ashamed to de- scribe as bad those circumstances which the Stoice call hard) that it is better to act viciously, with pleasure for result, than to act morally, with pain? The revolt from the Stoics of the famous Dionysius of Heraclea, on account of a pain in the eyes, was in our view scandalous. To imagine that the lesson given him by Zeno was to feel no pain while he was in pain! What he had heard, without learning it, was that pain was not an evil because it was not disgraceful, and so might be borne by a man. If this philosopher had been a Peripatetic he would have remained of his old opinion, for these thinkers declare pain to be an evil, and lay down the same rules as the Stoics for enduring its severity with courage. And, I must say, your friend Arcesilas, though he was too obstinate as a debater, still was of our school, as he was Polemo’s pupil; and when he was racked by the. pains of gout, and Charmides an Epicurean, his very dear friend, had paid him a visit and was departing with a woeful face, he called out, stay, please, dear Charmides; nothing makes its way from there to here—pointing to his feet and then to his breast. And yet he would have preferred to feel no pain.

XXXII. This is then our scheme, which you think inconsistent, notwithstanding that, looking to the heavenly and godlike preeminence of virtue, which is so great that where virtue exists, with achievements great and supremely meritorious, and won through virtue, there wretchedness and — grief cannot exist, though trouble may and annoyance may, I do not shrink from saying that all wise men are at all times happy, yet that one man may possibly be happier than another.’ ‘Nay, Piso, said I, ‘you must fortify your doctrine again and again, and if you make it good, you may take over not only my dear Cicero, but myself as well. Then Quintus remarked : ‘in my eyes the doctrine has been thoroughly upheld, and I rejoice that the philosophy, whose modest homely furniture I was formerly accustomed to value more highly than the broad acres of the rest (I always thought it rich enough for me to find in it whatever I desired in the course of my pursuits)— well then, I rejoice that this philosophy has proved itself subtler than the rest, though subtlety was just what some declared it to lack.’ ‘Not subtler than my philosophy,’ said Pomponius jesting, ‘but your speech was, I declare, very delightful to me. You have expounded doctrines I never thought capable of being stated in Latin, and that in suitable language, with no less clearness than the doctrines have in Greek. But our time is gone, please; and so come straight to my house.’ When he had said this, and we agreed we had debated enough, we all hurried off to the town to visit Pomponius.

END OF BOOK V AND OF THE TREATISE,