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[I] Quoniam de ciuitatis utriusque, terrenae scilicet et caelestis, debitis finibus deinceps mihi uideo disputandum: prius exponenda sunt, quantum operis huius terminandi ratio patitur, argumenta mortalium, quibus sibi ipsi beatitudinem facere in huius uitae infelicitate moliti sunt, ut ab eorum rebus uanis spes nostra quid differat, quam Deus nobis dedit, et res ipsa, hoc est uera beatitudo, quam dabit, non tantum auctoritate diuina, sed adhibita etiam ratione, qualem propter infideles possumus adhibere, clarescat.. De finibus enim bonorum et malorum multa et multipliciter inter se philosophi disputarunt; quam quaestionem maxima intentione uersantes inuenire conati sunt, qui efficiat hominem beatum. Illud enim est finis boni nostri, propter quod appetenda sunt cetera, ipsum autem propter se ipsum; et illud finis mali, propter quod uitanda sunt cetera, ipsum autem propter se ipsum. Finem boni ergo nunc dicimus, non quo consumatur, ut non sit, sed quo perficiatur, ut plenum sit; et finem mali, non quo esse desinat, sed quo usque nocendo perducat.
[I] Since, about the due ends of each city, namely the earthly and the heavenly, I see that I must henceforth dispute: first there must be set forth, as far as the plan of bringing this work to its terminus permits, the arguments of mortals, by which they have endeavored to make for themselves beatitude in the unhappiness of this life, so that, from their vain things, it may become clear how our hope, which God has given us, differs, and the thing itself, that is, true beatitude, which He will give, may be made bright, not only by divine authority, but with reason also applied, such as we can apply on account of the unbelievers, clarescat.. For concerning the ends of goods and evils the philosophers have disputed many things and in many ways among themselves; handling this question with the greatest intentness they have tried to find what makes a man blessed. For that is the end of our good, for the sake of which the rest are to be sought, but it itself for its own sake; and that is the end of evil, for the sake of which the rest are to be avoided, but it itself for its own sake. Therefore we now speak of the end of good, not where it is consumed, so that it is not, but where it is perfected, so that it is full; and of the end of evil, not where it ceases to be, but to what point, by harming, it leads.
Therefore these ends are the supreme good and the supreme evil. In discovering these, and in this life attaining the supreme good while avoiding the supreme evil, they labored much, as I said, who professed the pursuit of wisdom in the vanity of this age; nor yet did the boundary of nature, though they wandered in diverse ways, permit them to deviate from the path of truth to such a degree that some did not place the ends of goods and of evils in the mind, others in the body, others in both. From this tripartite, as it were, general distribution of sects, Marcus Varro, in the book on philosophy, diligently and subtly scrutinizing so great a variety of dogmas, observed that, by applying certain differences, he could very easily arrive at 288 sects—not those which already existed, but those which could exist.
Quod ut breuiter ostendam, inde oportet incipiam, quod ipse aduertit et posuit in libro memorato, quattuor esse quaedam, quae homines sine magistro, sine ullo doctrinae adminiculo, sine industria uel arte uiuendi, quae uirtus dicitur et procul dubio discitur, uelut naturaliter appetunt, aut uoluptatem, qua delectabiliter mouetur corporis sensus, aut quietem, qua fit ut nullam molestiam corporis quisque patiatur, aut utramque, quam tamen uno nomine uoluptatis Epicurus appellat, aut uniuersaliter prima naturae, in quibus et haec sunt et alia, uel in corpore, ut membrorum integritas et salus atque incolumitas eius, uel in animo, ut sunt ea, quae uel parua uel magna in hominum reperiuntur ingeniis. Haec igitur quattuor, id est uoluptas, quies, utrumque, prima naturae, ita sunt in nobis, ut uel uirtus, quam postea doctrina inserit, propter haec appetenda sit, aut ista propter uirtutem, aut utraque propter se ipsa; ac per hoc fiunt hinc duodecim sectae; per hanc enim rationem singulae triplicantur; quod cum in una demonstrauero, difficile non erit id in ceteris inuenire. Cum ergo uoluptas corporis animi uirtuti aut subditur aut praefertur aut iungitur, tripertita uariatur diuersitate sectarum.
In order to show this briefly, I must begin from what he himself observed and set down in the aforesaid book: that there are certain four things which men, without a teacher, without any aid of doctrine, without the industry or art of living—which is called virtue and beyond doubt is learned—so to speak naturally appetite: either pleasure, by which the sense of the body is moved delectably; or rest, by which it comes about that each one suffers no molestation of the body; or both, which, however, Epicurus calls by the single name of pleasure; or universally the prime things of nature, in which are both these and others, either in the body, as the integrity of the members and its health and soundness, or in the mind, as those things which, whether small or great, are found in the talents of human beings. These four, therefore—that is, pleasure, rest, both, the prime things of nature—are thus in us, that either virtue, which afterward instruction inserts, is to be sought on account of these, or these on account of virtue, or both on account of themselves; and through this there arise here twelve sects, for by this reasoning each is triplicated—which, when I shall have shown in one, it will not be difficult to find in the others. Therefore, when the pleasure of the body is either subjected to, preferred before, or joined to the virtue of the mind, the division is varied with a tripartite diversity of sects.
It is subordinated to virtue, however, when it is taken up for the use of virtue. For it pertains to the office of virtue both to live for the fatherland and, for the sake of the fatherland, to beget sons—neither of which can be done without bodily pleasure; for without that, neither are food and drink taken, in order that one may live, nor does one lie together, in order that generation may be propagated. But when it is preferred to virtue, it is itself sought for its own sake, and virtue is believed to be assumed on account of it—that is, that virtue do nothing except to obtain or conserve the pleasure of the body; which life is indeed deformed, since there virtue serves the mistress Pleasure (although in no way ought this to be called virtue/; yet nevertheless even this horrible turpitude has had certain philosophers as its patrons and defenders.
Moreover, pleasure is joined to virtue when neither of them is sought on account of the other, but both are desired for their own sakes. Wherefore, just as pleasure, whether subjected to virtue, or preferred to it, or conjoined with it, makes three sects, so too rest, so too both together, so too the first things of nature are found to produce another three apiece. For, according to the variety of human opinions, they are sometimes subjected to virtue, sometimes preferred to it, sometimes joined to it, and thus one arrives at the number of twelve sects.
But this number too is doubled by the application of a single difference, namely that of social life, since whoever follows any of these twelve sects undoubtedly does so either only on his own account or also for the sake of an associate, to whom he owes to will what he wills for himself. Wherefore there are twelve of those who think that each is to be maintained only for oneself, and another twelve of those who decree that one must philosophize thus or thus not only for oneself but also for others, whose good they seek as their own. Moreover, these twenty-four sects are again twinned by an added difference from the New Academics and become forty-eight.
Indeed, each one of those twenty-four sects can be held and defended by someone as certain, in the manner in which the Stoics defended that the good of man, whereby he would be happy, consisted in the virtue of the mind alone; another can [hold it] as uncertain, as the New Academics defended what seemed to them, though not certain, nevertheless of verisimilitude. Therefore twenty-four arise through those who regard them as certain on account of truth, and another twenty-four through those who judge that the same, although uncertain, are to be followed on account of verisimilitude. Again, because each one of these forty-eight sects can be followed by anyone in the habit of the others.
of the philosophers, and likewise another can in the habit of the Cynics; by this difference as well they are doubled and become 96. Then, because men can maintain and follow each single one of them in such a way that either they love an idle life, like those who wished and were able to be free solely for the studies of doctrine, or a busy life, like those who, although they philosophized, were nevertheless most occupied with the administration of the commonwealth and the governing of human affairs, or a life tempered from both kinds, like those who assigned the alternating times of their life partly to learned leisure and partly to necessary business: on account of these differences this number of sects also can be tripled and be brought to 288.
Haec de Varronis libro, quantum potui, breuiter ac dilucide posui, sententias eius meis explicans uerbis. Quo modo autem refutatis ceteris unam eligat, quam uult esse Academicorum ueterum (quos a Platone institutos usque ad Polemonem, qui ab illo quartus eius scholam tenuit, quae Academia dicta est, habuisse certa dogmata uult uideri et ob hoc distinguit ab Academicis nouis, quibus incerta sunt omnia, quod philosophiae genus ab Arcesila coepit successore Polemonis), eamque sectam, id est ueterum Academicorum, sicut dubitatione ita omni errore carere arbitretur, longum est per omnia demonstrare; nec tamen omni ex parte res omittenda est.
These things from Varro’s book, as far as I was able, I have set down briefly and lucidly, explaining his opinions in my own words. How, however, with the others refuted, he chooses one, which he wishes to be that of the Old Academics (whom, established by Plato, down to Polemon, who, the fourth after him, held his school which is called the Academy, he wants to seem to have had definite dogmas, and on this account he distinguishes them from the New Academics, to whom all things are uncertain, which kind of philosophy began from Arcesilaus, the successor of Polemon), and how he judges that that sect, that is, of the Old Academics, is free, as from doubt, so from every error, is long to demonstrate through everything; nor, however, is the matter to be omitted in every respect.
Remouet ergo prius illas omnes differentias, quae numerum multiplicauere sectarum, quas ideo remouendas putat, quia non in eis est finis boni. Neque enim existimat ullam philosophiae sectam esse dicendam, quae non eo distet a ceteris, quod diuersos habeat fines bonorum et malorum. Quando quidem nulla est homini causa philosophandi, nisi ut beatus sit; quod autem beatum facit, ipse est finis boni; nulla est igitur causa philosophandi, nisi finis boni: quam ob rem quae nullum boni finem sectatur, nulla philosophiae secta dicenda est.
He therefore first removes all those differences which multiplied the number of sects, which he thinks should be removed because the end of the good is not in them. For he does not think any sect of philosophy is to be said which does not differ from the others in this, that it has diverse ends of goods and evils. Since indeed there is no cause for a human to philosophize, except that he may be happy; but that which makes one happy is itself the end of the good; there is therefore no cause for philosophizing except the end of the good: wherefore that which follows no end of the good is to be called no sect of philosophy.
Since therefore the question is raised concerning social life, whether it ought to be embraced by the wise man, so that he both wills and cares for his friend’s highest good, by which a human is made blessed, in the same manner as for his own, or whether he does whatever he does solely for the sake of his own beatitude: the question is not about the very highest good, but about taking on or not taking on a partner for the participation of this good, not on account of himself, but on account of that same associate, so that he may rejoice in his good just as he rejoices in his own. Likewise, when it is asked about the New Academics, for whom all things are uncertain, whether the matters in which one must philosophize are to be held thus, or whether, as it pleased other philosophers, we ought to hold them as certain: the question is not what is to be followed in the end of the good, but about the truth of the good itself, which seems to be followed, whether it ought to be doubted or not; that is, to put it more plainly, whether it is to be followed in such a way that the one who follows says that it is true, or in such a way that the one who follows says that it seems true to him, even if perchance it is false; nevertheless each alike would follow one and the same good. In that difference also, which is brought in from the habit and custom of the Cynics, the question is not what the end of the good is, but whether one who follows the true good ought to live in that habit and custom, whatever may seem to him to be true and to be followed.
Finally, there were those who, while they pursued different final goods—some virtue, others pleasure—nevertheless kept the same habit and custom, from which they were called Cynics. Thus that, whatever it is, by which the Cynic philosophers are distinguished from the others, was of course of no avail for choosing and holding the good by which they might be made blessed.
[II] In tribus quoque illis uitae generibus, uno scilicet non segniter, sed in contemplatione uel inquisitione ueritatis otioso, altero in gerendis rebus humanis negotioso, tertio ex utroque genere temperato, cum quaeritur quid horum sit potius eligendum, non finis boni habet controuersiam; sed quid horum trium difficultatem uel facilitatem adferat ad consequendum uel retinendum finem boni, id in ista quaestione uersatur. Finis enim boni, cum ad eum quisque peruenerit, protinus beatum facit; in otio autem litterato, uel in negotio publico, uel quando utrumque uicibus agitur, non continuo quisque beatus est. Multi quippe in quolibet horum trium possunt uiuere, et in appetendo boni fine, quo fit homo beatus, errare.
[II] In those three kinds of life as well—one, namely, not slothfully idle, but at leisure in the contemplation or inquisition of truth; another busy in the conduct of human affairs; a third tempered from both kinds—when it is asked which of these ought rather to be chosen, the controversy is not about the end of the good, but the matter at issue in this question is which of these three brings difficulty or facility for attaining or retaining the end of the good. For the end of the good, when anyone has come to it, straightway makes one blessed; but in learned leisure, or in public business, or when each is undertaken by turns, not everyone is immediately blessed. For many indeed can live in any of these three, and err in seeking the end of the good, whereby a human being is made blessed.
Therefore the question about the ends of goods and evils is one thing, which makes each philosophical sect, and there are other questions about social life, about the dilatoriness of the Academics, about the attire and victuals of the Cynics, about the three kinds of life—at-leisure, active, modified from both—of which there is none in which there is a dispute about the ends of goods and evils. Accordingly, since Marcus Varro, employing these four differences, that is, from social life, from the New Academics, from the Cynics, from that tripartite kind of life, arrived at 288 sects, and if any others can similarly be added: with all these removed, since they bring in no question about pursuing the highest good and therefore neither are sects nor ought to be called sects, he returns to those 12, in which it is inquired what is the good of man, by the attainment of which he becomes blessed, so that from these he may show one to be true, the rest false. For with that tripartite kind of life removed, two parts of this number are subtracted and 96 sects remain.
But with the difference from the Cynics removed that had been added, they are reduced to a half and become 48. Let us also remove what was applied from the New Academics: again a half remains, that is, 24. Likewise, let what had accrued from social life be removed: 12 remain, which this difference had doubled, so that they became 24.
Now, in order that these become twelve sects, those four are triplicated: pleasure, repose, both, and the first things of nature, which Varro calls “primigenial.” For these four, when severally they are sometimes subordinated to virtue, so that they seem to be to-be-sought not for their own sake, but for the office of virtue; sometimes they are preferred, so that virtue is thought necessary not for its own sake, but for acquiring or conserving these; sometimes they are conjoined, so that both virtue and these are believed to be to-be-sought for their own sake—thus they render the number of four triple and arrive at twelve sects. But of those four things Varro removes three, namely pleasure and repose and both; not that he disapproves them, but because those primigenial things of nature contain in themselves both pleasure and repose.
What need, then, is there to make certain three out of these two—namely, two, when pleasure or quiet are sought singly, and a third, when both together—since the first things of nature contain both them and, besides them, many other things? Therefore, concerning the three sects, it seems good to him that there be diligent treatment as to which is rather to be chosen. For true reason permits no more than one to be true, whether it be among these three or somewhere else, which we shall see later.
Meanwhile, about these three, in what way Varro chooses one, let us, as briefly and as plainly as we can, discuss. For these three sects are constituted thus: either the first things of nature are to be sought on account of virtue, or virtue on account of the first things of nature, or both, that is, both virtue and the first things of nature, are to be sought for their own sake.
[III] Quid ergo istorum trium sit uerum atque sectandum, isto modo persuadere conatur. Primum, quia summum bonum in philosophia non arboris, non pecoris, non Dei, sed hominis quaeritur, quid sit ipse homo, quaerendum putat. Sentit quippe in eius natura duo esse quaedam, corpus et animam, et horum quidem duorum melius esse animam longeque praestabilius omnino non dubitat, sed utrum anima sola sit homo, ut ita sit ei corpus tamquam equus equiti (eques enim non homo et equus, sed solus homo est; ideo tamen eques dicitur, quod aliquo modo se habet ad equum), an corpus solum sit homo, aliquo modo se habens ad animam, sicut poculum ad potionem (non enim calix et potio, quam continet calix, simul dicitur poculum, sed calix solus; ideo tamen quod potioni continendae sit adcommodatus), an uero nec anima sola nec solum corpus, sed simul utrumque sit homo, cuius sit pars una siue anima siue corpus, ille autem totus ex utroque constet, ut homo sit (sicut duos equos iunctos bigas uocamus, quorum siue dexter siue sinister pars est bigarum, unum uero eorum, quoquo modo se habeat ad alterum, bigas non dicimus, sed ambo simul). Horum autem trium hoc elegit tertium hominemque nec animam solam nec solum corpus, sed animam simul et corpus esse arbitratur.
[3] What, then, of these three is true and to be followed, he attempts to persuade in this way. First, because in philosophy the highest good is sought not of a tree, nor of cattle, nor of God, but of man, he thinks one must inquire what man himself is. He perceives, indeed, that in his nature there are two certain things, body and soul, and of these two he in no way doubts that the soul is the better and by far the more excellent; but whether the soul alone is man, so that the body stands to it as a horse to a horseman (for a horseman is not a man and a horse, but a man alone; yet he is called a horseman because in some way he stands in relation to a horse), or whether the body alone is man, somehow standing in relation to the soul, as a cup to a potion (for it is not the chalice and the potion which the chalice contains that together are called a cup, but the chalice alone; yet it is so called because it is accommodated for containing a potion), or indeed neither the soul alone nor the body alone, but both together are man, of which either the soul or the body is a part, while he as a whole consists of both, so that he is a man (just as we call two horses yoked together a pair, bigae, of which either the right or the left is a part of the pair; but one of them, however it stands in relation to the other, we do not call a pair, but both together). Of these three, moreover, he chose this third, and judges that a human being is neither the soul alone nor the body alone, but soul together with body.
Accordingly, the highest good of the human being, by which he is made blessed, he says consists of the goods of both things, namely of soul and of body. And therefore he judges those first things of nature to be sought for their own sake, and virtue itself as well—the virtue which teaching inserts as it were the art of living—which among the goods of the soul is the most excellent good. Wherefore that same virtue, that is, the art of conducting life, when it has received the first things of nature, which were without it, yet nevertheless were even when instruction was still lacking to them, desires all things for their own sake and at the same time also itself, and uses all things together along with itself, to this end: that it may be delighted with all and enjoy them fully, more or less, as they are among themselves greater and lesser—yet rejoicing in all, and despising certain lesser things, if necessity requires, for the sake of greater things either to be acquired or to be held.
But of all goods, whether of the soul or of the body, virtue absolutely prefers nothing to itself. For this makes good use both of itself and of the other goods which make a human being blessed. But where it itself is not, however many goods there may be, they are not to the good of him whose they are; and therefore they are not to be called his goods, since to one using them ill they cannot be useful.
Therefore this life of man, which enjoys virtue and the other goods of mind and body, without which virtue cannot exist, is said to be blessed; but if also with other goods, without which virtue can exist, whether with some or with more, it is more blessed; but if with absolutely all, so that no good at all is lacking either of mind or of body, most blessed. For life is not the same thing as virtue, since not every life, but a sapient life, is virtue; and yet any sort of life can exist without any virtue; but virtue cannot exist without any life. This I would say also of memory and reason, and if there is anything else of such a kind in man.
For these things exist even before doctrine, but without these there can be no doctrine at all, and therefore neither virtue, which assuredly is learned. But to run well, to be fair in body, to prevail with immense strengths, and other things of this kind are such that both virtue can exist without them and they themselves without virtue; yet they are goods, and according to those men even virtue itself loves them for their own sake, and uses them and enjoys them, as befits virtue.
Hanc uitam beatam etiam socialem perhibent esse, quae amicorum bona propter se ipsa diligat sicut sua eisque propter ipsos hoc uelit quod sibi; siue in domo sint, sicut coniux et liberi et quicumque domestici, siue in loco, ubi domus est eius, sicuti est urbs, ut sunt hi qui ciues uocantur, siue in orbe toto, ut sunt gentes quas ei societas humana coniungit, siue in ipso mundo, qui censetur nomine caeli et terrae, sicut esse dicunt deos, quos uolunt amicos esse homini sapienti, quos nos familiarius angelos dicimus. De bonorum autem et e contrario malorum finibus negant ullo modo esse dubitandum et hanc inter se et nouos Academicos adfirmant esse distantiam, nec eorum interest quicquam, siue Cynico siue alio quolibet habitu et uictu in his finibus, quos ueros putant, quisque philosophetur. Ex tribus porro illis uitae generibus, otioso, actuoso et quod ex utroque compositum est, hoc tertium sibi placere adseuerant.
They also aver that this blessed life is social, which loves the goods of friends for their own sake just as its own, and for them on their own account wills that which it wills for itself; whether they be in the house, like spouse and children and whatever domestics, or in the place where his house is, as is the city, as are those who are called citizens, or in the whole orb, as are the nations whom human society joins to him, or in the world itself, which is reckoned under the name of heaven and earth, as they say the gods exist, whom they wish to be friends to the wise man, whom we more familiarly call angels. But about the ends of goods and, conversely, of evils they deny that there is any way to be in doubt, and they affirm that this is the distance between themselves and the New Academics; nor does it matter anything to them, whether in Cynic habit or in any other habit and diet one philosophizes within those ends which they think true. Moreover, of those three kinds of life, the leisurely, the active, and that which is composed from both, they assert that this third pleases them.
Varro asserts that the ancient Academics felt and taught these things, with Antiochus as author, the teacher of Cicero and of himself, whom indeed Cicero wishes to appear to have been in more respects a Stoic than an ancient Academic. But what is that to us, who ought rather to judge about the things themselves than to count it a great matter to know, concerning the men, what each one thought?
[IV] Si ergo quaeratur a nobis, quid ciuitas Dei de his singulis interrogata respondeat ac primum de finibus bonorum malorumque quid sentiat: respondebit aeternam uitam esse summum bonum, aeternam uero mortem summum malum; propter illam proinde adipiscendam istamque uitandam recte nobis esse uiuendum. Propter quod scriptum est: Iustus ex fide uiuit; quoniam neque bonum nostrum iam uidemus, unde oportet ut credendo quaeramus, neque ipsum recte uiuere nobis ex nobis est, nisi credentes adiuuet et orantes qui et ipsam fidem dedit, qua nos ab illo adiuuandos esse credamus. Illi autem, qui in ista uita fines bonorum et malorum esse putauerunt, siue in corpore siue in animo siue in utroque ponentes summum bonum, atque, ut id explicatius eloquar, siue in uoluptate siue in uirtute siue in utraque, siue in quiete siue in uirtute siue in utraque, siue in uoluptate simul et quiete siue in uirtute siue in utrisque, siue in primis naturae siue in uirtute siue in utrisque, hic beati esse et a se ipsis beatificari mira uanitate uoluerunt.
[4] If, therefore, it be asked of us what the City of God, questioned about each of these, would answer, and first what it judges concerning the ends of goods and evils: it will answer that eternal life is the supreme good, but eternal death the supreme evil; and that, for the sake of attaining the former and avoiding the latter, it is right for us to live rightly. For which reason it is written: “The Just lives by faith”; since neither do we now behold our good—whence it is proper that we should seek it by believing—nor is the very living rightly from ourselves for us, unless He aid those who believe and pray, who also gave faith itself, by which we believe that we are to be aided by Him. But those who supposed that in this life lie the ends of goods and evils—placing the supreme good either in the body or in the soul or in both, and, to speak it more explicitly, either in pleasure or in virtue or in both, either in rest or in virtue or in both, either in pleasure together with rest or in virtue or in both, either in the primary goods of nature or in virtue or in both—these wished, in wondrous vanity, to be blessed here and to be beatified by themselves.
Quis enim sufficit quantouis eloquentiae flumine uitae huius miserias explicare? Quam lamentatus est Cicero in consolatione de morte filiae, sicut potuit; sed quantum est quod potuit? Ea quippe, quae dicuntur prima naturae, quando, ubi, quo modo tam bene se habere in hac uita possunt, ut non sub incertis casibus fluctuent?
For who indeed is sufficient to explicate the miseries of this life with however great a flood of eloquence? How Cicero lamented in his Consolation on the death of his daughter, as he could; but how great is that which he could? For those things which are called the first things of nature—when, where, in what manner can they be so well off in this life that they do not fluctuate under uncertain chances?
For what pain contrary to pleasure, what inquietude contrary to quiet, cannot fall upon the body of the wise man? Certainly the amputation or weakness of the limbs assails a man’s incolumity; deformity, beauty; feebleness, health; lassitude, strength; torpor or tardiness, mobility; and which of these is there that cannot rush upon the flesh of the wise man? The posture and motion of the body, too, when becoming and congruent, are numbered among the first things of nature; but what if some bad ill-health should shake the limbs with a tremor?
What if the spine of the back were to be curved so far as to set the hands upon the ground and make the man, in a certain way, a quadruped? Will it not pervert all the form and grace of standing and moving the body? What of the primigenial goods of the mind itself, as they are called, where they posit two first for the comprehension and perception of truth: sense and intellect?
But of what kind and how much sense remains, if, to be silent about other things, a man becomes deaf and blind? Reason and intelligence—whither will they withdraw, when they are lulled to sleep, if by some disease he is made insane? Phrenetics, when they say or do many absurd things, for the most part alien from their good purpose and morals—nay, contrary to their own good purpose and morals—whether we think on these or behold them, if we consider worthily, we can scarcely hold back tears, or perhaps we cannot.
Then what sort or how great is the perception of truth in this flesh, when, as we read in the veracious book of wisdom, the corruptible body aggravates the soul and the earthly inhabitation depresses the sense, thinking many things? Moreover, the impetus or appetite of action—if in this way that is rightly called in Latin which the Greeks call *o(rmh/n*, since they also assign it to the primary goods of nature—is it not the very thing by which there are carried on even those pitiable motions and deeds of madmen, at which we shudder, when sense is perverted and reason is lulled to sleep?
Porro ipsa uirtus, quae non est inter prima naturae, quoniam eis postea doctrina introducente superuenit, cum sibi bonorum culmen uindicet humanorum, quid hic agit nisi perpetua bella cum uitiis, nec exterioribus, sed interioribus, nec alienis, sed plane nostris et propriis, maxime illa, quae Graece *swfrosu/nh, Latine temperantia nominatur, qua carnales frenantur libidines, ne in quaeque flagitia mentem consentientem trahant? Neque enim nullum est uitium, cum, sicut dicit apostolus, caro concupiscit aduersus spiritum f cui uitio contraria uirtus est, cum, sicut idem dicit, spiritus concupiscit aduersus carnem. Haec enim, inquit, inuicem aduersantur, ut non ea quae uultis faciatis.
Moreover virtue itself, which is not among the first things of nature, since it afterwards supervenes upon them with doctrine introducing it, when it claims for itself the summit of human goods—what does it do here except wage perpetual wars with vices, not external but internal, not others’ but plainly our own and proper—especially that which in Greek is called *swfrosu/nh*, in Latin temperance, by which carnal lusts are reined in, lest they drag the consenting mind into whatever flagitious acts? For there is not no vice, since, as the apostle says, the flesh desires against the spirit; to which vice the contrary is virtue, since, as the same says, the spirit desires against the flesh. For, he says, these are opposed to one another, so that you do not do the things that you will.
What, moreover, do we wish to do, when we wish to be perfected with the end of the highest good, except that the flesh not lust against the spirit, nor there be in us this vice, against which the spirit lusts? Which, in this life, although we wish it, since we are not able to do it, this at least by the help of God we do: lest, the spirit yielding, we give way to the flesh lusting against the spirit, and be drawn by our consent to the perpetration of sin. Far be it, therefore, that, so long as we are in this intestine war, we should already believe that we have attained the beatitude to which we desire to arrive by conquering.
Quid illa uirtus, quae prudentia dicitur, nonne tota uigilantia sua bona discernit a malis, ut in illis appetendis istisque uitandis nullus error obrepat, ac per hoc et ipsa nos in malis uel mala in nobis esse testatur? Ipsa enim docet malum esse ad peccandum consentire bonumque esse ad peccandum non
What of that virtue which is called prudence—does it not with its whole vigilance discern goods from evils, so that in seeking those and avoiding these no error may creep in, and through this does it not also bear witness that either we are in evils or that evils are in us? For it itself teaches that to consent to sinning is evil, and that it is good not
consentire libidini. Illud tamen malum, cui nos non consentire docet prudentia, facit temperantia, nec prudentia nec temperantia tollit huic uitae. Quid iustitia, cuius munus est sua cuique tribuere (unde fit in ipso homine quidam iustus ordo naturae, ut anima subdatur Deo et animae caro, ac per hoc Deo et anima et caro), nonne demonstrat in eo se adhuc opere laborare potius quam in huius operis iam fine requiescere?
to consent to lust. Yet that—namely, the not consenting to the evil to which prudence teaches us not to consent—is effected by temperance; and neither prudence nor temperance removes this from this life. What of justice, whose office it is to render to each his own (whence there arises in the man himself a certain just order of nature, that the soul be subjected to God and the flesh to the soul, and through this to God both the soul and the flesh), does it not show that in this it is still laboring in the work rather than already resting in the end of this work?
For so much the less is the soul subjected to God, as it conceives God the less in its very thoughts; and so much the less is the flesh subjected to the soul, as it lusts against the spirit the more. As long, therefore, as this infirmity is in us, this pestilence, this languor, how shall we dare to call ourselves already saved—and, if not yet saved, how shall we dare to call ourselves already blessed with that final beatitude? Now indeed that virtue whose name is Fortitude, in whatever measure of wisdom, is a most evident witness of human ills, which it is compelled by Patience to tolerate.
What evils, I marvel, do the Stoic philosophers with what face contend are not evils, who admit that, if they be so great that the wise man either cannot or ought not to endure them, he is compelled to inflict death upon himself and emigrate from this life. But so great a stupor of superbia is in these men, who think that here they have the end of the good and that they are made blessed by themselves, that their sage—such, that is, as they describe with marvelous vanity—even if he be blinded, be deafened, be struck dumb, be debilitated in his limbs, be tormented with pains, and, if anything else of such evils can be said or thought, it fall upon him, whereby he is compelled to inflict death upon himself, it does not shame him to call this life, constituted in these evils, blessed. O blessed life, which, in order that it may be finished, seeks the help of death!
If it is blessed, let it be remained in. How are these not evils, which conquer the good of fortitude and compel that same fortitude not only to yield to them, but even to break down, so that of that same life it both says “blessed” and persuades that it is to be fled? Who is so blind as not to see that, if it were blessed, it would not have to be fled? But with the open voice of infirmity they confess it is to be fled.
Quapropter etiam ipsi, qui mala ista esse confessi sunt, sicut Peripatetici, sicut ueteres Academici, quorum sectam Varro defendit, tolerabilius quidem loquuntur, sed eorum quoque mirus est error, quod in his malis, etsi tam grauia sint, ut morte fugienda sint ab ipso sibimet inlata, qui haec patitur, uitam beatam tamen esse contendunt. "Mala sunt, inquit, tormenta atque cruciatus corporis, et tanto sunt peiora, quanto potuerint esse maiora; quibus ut careas, ex hac uita fugiendum est." Qua uita, obsecro? "Hac, inquit, quae tantis adgrauatur malis." Certe ergo beata est in eisdem ipsis malis, propter quae dicis esse fugiendam?
Wherefore even those themselves who have confessed those things to be evils, such as the Peripatetics, such as the old Academics, whose sect Varro defends, speak indeed more tolerably; but their error too is wondrous, that in these evils, although they are so grievous that they should be escaped by death—brought by himself upon himself, the very one who suffers these things—they nevertheless contend that life is blessed. "They are evils," he says, "the torments and cruciations of the body, and they are the worse by so much as they could have been greater; to be without which, one must flee from this life." Which life, I beseech? "This," he says, "which is aggravated by such great evils." Surely then it is blessed in those very evils, on account of which you say it must be fled?
Therefore it is not for that reason not miserable, because it is quickly left behind. Since indeed, if it were sempiternal, it is judged miserable even by you yourself; not, therefore, for this reason—because it is brief—ought it to appear no misery, or, what is more absurd, because it is a brief misery, on that account even be called beatitude. Great is the force in those evils which compel a man, even a wise man according to them, to remove from himself what he is as a man; since they say, and say truly, that this is, in a certain way, nature’s first and greatest voice: that a man be attached to himself and therefore naturally flee death, so a friend to himself that he vehemently wants and desires to be a living creature and to live in this conjunction of body and soul.
Great force there is in those evils, by which that sense of nature is conquered, whereby death is in every way, with all powers and endeavors, avoided—and it is so conquered that what was avoided is desired and sought, and, if it cannot come from elsewhere, is brought by the man himself upon himself. Great force there is in those evils which make fortitude a homicide—if indeed it is still to be called fortitude which is thus overcome by these evils that the man whom, as a virtue, it undertook to rule and to defend, it not only cannot preserve by patience, but is even compelled itself to kill. The wise man ought indeed also to bear death patiently—but a death which befalls from elsewhere.
According to those men, however, if one is compelled to bring it upon himself, surely it must be admitted by them that there are not only evils, but even intolerable evils, which compel him to perpetrate this. Therefore the life which by the burdens of such great and weighty evils is either pressed or lies subject to vicissitudes would in no way be called blessed, if the men who say this—just as, conquered by evils growing heavier, when they thrust death upon themselves, they yield to infelicity—so, conquered by sure reasons, when they seek the blessed life, would deign to yield to verity, and would not think for themselves that in this mortality, without the end of the highest good, there is anything to be rejoiced at, where the virtues themselves—than which here certainly nothing better and more useful is found in a human being—the greater they are as aids against the force of dangers, labors, and pains, by so much the more faithful are they as testimonies of miseries. For if they are true virtues, which cannot exist except in those in whom true piety is present, they do not profess this ability, that the men in whom they are should suffer no miseries (for true virtues are not mendacious, so as to profess this), but rather that human life, which is compelled to be miserable by so many and so great evils of this age, by the hope of the future age may be blessed, just as it is also saved.
How, indeed, is it blessed, which is not yet saved? Whence also the Apostle Paul, not about imprudent, impatient, intemperate, and iniquitous men, but about those who would live according to true piety, and therefore would have the virtues they had as true, says: For by hope we have been saved. But hope which is seen is not hope.
For what a person sees, what also does he hope for? But if we hope for what we do not see, through patience we await it. Thus, therefore, as by hope we have been saved, so by hope we have been made blessed; and just as salvation, so beatitude we do not now hold as present, but we await as future—and this through patience, because we are amid evils, which we ought patiently to endure, until we come to those goods where there will be all the things by which we are ineffably delighted, and there will be nothing, however, which we ought any longer to tolerate.
[V] Quod autem socialem uitam uolunt esse sapientis, nos multo amplius adprobamus. Nam unde ista Dei ciuitas, de qua huius operis ecce iam undeuicensimum librum uersamus in manibus, uel inchoaretur exortu uel progrederetur excursu uel adprehenderet debitos fines, si non esset socialis uita sanctorum? Sed in huius mortalitatis aerumna quot et quantis abundet malis humana societas, quis enumerare ualeat?
[5] But that they want the life of the wise man to be social, we approve far more. For whence would that City of God, about which—behold!—in this work we are already turning the 19th book in our hands, either be begun in its rise, or advance in its course, or attain its due boundaries, if there were not the social life of the saints? But in the hardship of this mortality, with how many and how great evils human society abounds—who could be able to enumerate them?
are not human affairs everywhere full of these, where we feel injuries, suspicions, enmities, war—certain evils; but peace, rather, an uncertain good, since we are ignorant of the hearts of those with whom we wish to hold it, and even if we could know today, what they will be like tomorrow we would assuredly not know. Who moreover are wont—or ought—to be more friendly among themselves than those who are even contained together in one house? And yet who is secure from that quarter, since so great evils have often arisen from their hidden insidiae, all the more bitter the sweeter the peace had been, which was thought true when it was most astutely feigned?
On account of which it so touches all hearts as to force into a groan what Tullius says: “There are no ambushes more hidden than those which lie concealed in the simulation of duty or under some title of relationship. For one who is an adversary openly you can easily avoid by taking caution; but this hidden, intestine and domestic evil not only exists, but even overwhelms, before you have been able to foresee and to explore it.” For which reason also that divine voice—“And a man’s enemies are the members of his own household”—is heard with great grief of heart; because, even if someone be so strong as to endure with an even mind, or so vigilant as to beware by provident counsel what a feigned friendship is contriving against him, nevertheless by the evil of those treacherous men, when he discovers them to be most wicked—if he himself is good—he must needs be grievously excruciated, whether they were always evil and pretended to be good, or have been changed into this malice from goodness. If therefore the house, the common refuge amid these evils of the human race, is not safe, what of the city, which, the greater it is, the more its forum is replete with lawsuits both civil and criminal, even if there are at rest not only turbulent but more often bloody seditions and civil wars—events from which cities are sometimes free, but from the dangers never?
[VI] Quid ipsa iudicia hominum de hominibus, quae ciuitatibus in quantalibet pace manentibus deesse non possunt, qualia putamus esse, quam misera, quam dolenda? Quando quidem hi iudicant, qui conscientias eorum, de quibus iudicant, cernere nequeunt. Vnde saepe coguntur tormentis innocentium testium ad alienam causam pertinentem quaerere ueritatem.
[6] What do we suppose the very judgments of men about men—which cannot be lacking even when cities abide in whatever peace—are like: how miserable, how lamentable? Since indeed those judge who are unable to discern the consciences of those about whom they judge. Whence they are often compelled to seek the truth by the tortures of innocent witnesses pertaining to another’s case.
What of when each person is tortured in his own case, and, when it is inquired whether he is guilty, he is racked, and the innocent pays for an uncertain crime the most certain penalties—not because he is detected to have committed it, but because it is not known that he did not commit it? And therefore the ignorance of the judge is often the calamity of the innocent. And what is more intolerable and more to be lamented and, if it could be, to be irrigated with fountains of tears: when for this very reason the judge tortures the accused, lest he, not knowing, kill an innocent man, it comes to pass, through the misery of ignorance, that he kills both the tortured man and the innocent man—the very one whom he had tortured lest he kill an innocent man.
If, in accordance with their wisdom, he should choose to flee from this life rather than to endure those torments longer: he says that he committed what he did not commit. When he has been condemned and killed, whether the judge has killed a guilty man or an innocent, he still does not know—he tortured him so that, being ignorant, he might not kill an innocent; and by this very fact he both tortured an innocent in order to know, and, while he did not know, he killed him. In this darkness of social life will that wise judge sit, or will he not dare?
He will indeed sit. For human society constrains him and draws him on to this duty, which he deems it impiety to desert. For he does not deem this to be impiety: that innocent witnesses are tortured in other men’s cases; that those who are accused, for the most part overpowered by the force of pain and having confessed falsehoods about themselves, are even punished though innocent, since already they had been tortured while innocent; that, even if they are not punished with death, they for the most part die in the very torments or from the torments themselves; that sometimes even those who bring accusations—wishing perhaps to be of service to human society, lest crimes be unpunished, and, with the witnesses lying and the defendant himself enduring monstrously against the torments and not confessing, being unable to prove what they allege, although they have alleged true things—are condemned by an unknowing judge.
He does not reckon these so many and so great evils to be sins; for the wise judge does not do these things by a will of harming, but by a necessity of not-knowing, and yet, because human society compels, by a necessity also of judging. This, therefore, is what we call the misery assuredly of man, even if not the malice of the wise man. Or indeed, by the necessity of not-knowing and of judging, does he rack the innocents, punish the innocents, and is it too little for him that he is not a defendant, unless he be besides also blessed?
[VII] Post ciuitatem uel urbem sequitur orbis terrae, in quo tertium gradum ponunt societatis humanae, incipientes a domo atque inde ad urbem, deinde ad orbem progrediendo uenientes; qui utique, sicut aquarum congeries, quanto maior est, tanto periculis plenior. In quo primum linguarum diuersitas hominem alienat ab homine. Nam si duo sibimet inuicem fiant obuiam neque praeterire, sed simul esse aliqua necessitate cogantur, quorum neuter linguam nouit alterius: facilius sibi muta animalia, etiam diuersi generis, quam illi, cum sint homines ambo, sociantur.
[7] After the civitas or city there follows the orb of the earth, in which they place the third grade of human society, beginning from the house and thence to the city, then by progressing arriving at the orb; which assuredly, like a congeries of waters, the greater it is, the fuller it is of dangers. In it first the diversity of tongues alienates man from man. For if two meet each other and are compelled by some necessity not to pass by but to be together, of whom neither knows the language of the other: dumb animals, even of a different kind, are more easily associated with one another than they are, though both are men.
For when they cannot communicate among themselves the things they sense, on account of the sole diversity of language so great a similarity of nature profits nothing for consociating human beings, so that a man is more willingly with his dog than with an alien man. But indeed effort has been expended, that an imperious city might impose not only its yoke but also its own language upon tamed nations through the peace of society, through which there might not be lacking, nay even there might abound, also a supply of interpreters. It is true; but at how many and how great wars, with what slaughter of men, with what effusion of human blood, has this been procured?
With these things transacted, nevertheless the misery of the same evils is not finished. For although there have not been lacking, nor are lacking, enemies of foreign nations, against whom wars have always been waged and are being waged: nevertheless the very latitude of the empire has begotten wars of a worse kind, namely social and civil, by which the human race is more miserably shaken, whether when there is war-making, so that they may at some time find rest, or when there is fear lest they rise up again. If I should wish to set forth, as is worthy, the many and manifold disasters of these evils, the hard and dire necessities—although by no means could I as the matter demands—what will be the limit of a prolix disputation?
But, they say, the wise man will wage just wars. As though he would not, if he remembers himself to be a human, grieve much more that the necessity of just wars has arisen for him—for unless they were just, they would not have to be waged by him, and thus for the wise man there would be no wars. For the iniquity of the adverse party thrusts upon the wise man just wars to be waged; which iniquity is assuredly to be lamented by a human, because it is of humans, even if no necessity of waging war were to arise from it.
[VIII] Si autem non contingat quaedam ignorantia similis dementiae, quae tamen in huius uitae misera condicione saepe contingit, ut credatur uel amicus esse, qui inimicus est, uel Inimicus, qui amicus est: quid nos consolatur in hac humana societate erroribus aerumnisque plenissima nisi fides non ficta et mutua dilectio uerorum et bonorum amicorum? Quos quanto plures et in locis pluribus habemus, tanto longius latiusque metuimus, ne quid eis contingat mali de tantis malorum aggeribus huius saeculi. Non enim tantummodo solliciti sumus, ne fame, ne bellis, ne morbis, ne captiuitatibus affligantur, ne in eadem seruitute talia patiantur, qualia nec cogitare sufficimus; uerum etiam, ubi timor est multo amarior, ne in perfidiam malitiam nequitiamque mutentur.
[8] But if there does not occur a certain ignorance like dementia—which, however, in the miserable condition of this life often does occur—so that it is believed either that he is a friend who is an enemy, or an Enemy who is a friend: what consoles us in this human society, most full of errors and hardships, except the unfeigned faith and mutual love of true and good friends? The more of these we have, and in the more places, by so much the farther and wider do we fear, lest any evil befall them from the so great heaps of evils of this age. For we are not only anxious lest they be afflicted by hunger, by wars, by diseases, by captivities, lest in the same servitude they suffer such things as we are not even sufficient to think; but also—where the fear is much more bitter—lest they be changed into perfidy, malice, and iniquity.
And when these things befall (assuredly the more, the more numerous they are) and are conveyed to our notice, by which our heart is seared with scourges, who can advert to it save the one who feels such things? For indeed we would rather hear of them as dead, although not even this can we hear without pain. For those whose life delighted us because of the solaces of friendship—how can it come to pass that their death should bring upon us no sadness?
Let him who forbids, forbid, if he can, amicable colloquies; let him interdict or even cut off amicable affection; let him, in a harsh stupor of mind, burst asunder the bonds of all human connections, or else deem that they are to be used in such a way that no sweetness from them suffuses the spirit. But if that can in no way be done, how then will it come to pass that the death of him whose life is sweet to us will not be bitter to us? For hence too arises a certain lamentation of a heart not inhuman, as it were a wound or an ulcer, to the healing of which dutiful consolations are applied.
For it is not therefore that there is nothing to be healed, since the better the mind is, by so much the sooner and more easily is it healed within it. Since, then, even by the deaths of the dearest—especially of those whose services are necessary to human society—the life of mortals is now more mildly, now more harshly afflicted: yet we would rather hear or see those whom we love as dead, than as fallen either from the faith or from good morals—that is, as dead in the very soul. By which vast material of evils the earth is filled, on account of which it is written: Is not human life upon the earth a temptation?
and because of which the Lord himself says: Woe to the world because of scandals, and again: Since iniquity has abounded, the charity of many will grow cold. Whence it comes about that we congratulate ourselves on good friends who have died, and, although their death saddens us, it more surely consoles us itself, since they have been without the evils by which in this life even good men are either crushed or depraved or in both are put in peril.
[IX] In societate uero sanctorum angelorum, quam philosophi illi, qui nobis deos amicos esse uoluerunt, quarto constituerunt loco, uelut ad mundum uenientes ab orbe terrarum, ut sic quodam modo complecterentur et caelum, nullo modo quidem metuimus, ne tales amici uel morte nos sua uel deprauatione contristent. Sed quia nobis non ea, qua homines, familiaritate miscentur (quod etiam ipsum ad aerumnas huius pertinet uitae) et aliquando Satanas, sicut legimus, transfigurat se uelut angelum lucis ad temptandos eos, quos ita uel erudiri opus est uel decipi iustum est: magna Dei misericordia necessaria est, ne quisquam, cum bonos angelos amicos se habere putat, habeat malos daemones fictos amicos, eosque tanto nocentiores, quanto astutiores ac fallaciores, patiatur inimicos. Et cui magna ista Dei misericordia necessaria est nisi magnae humanae miseriae, quae ignorantia tanta premitur, ut facile istorum simulatione fallatur?
[IX] In the society of the holy angels, which those philosophers who wished the gods to be our friends set in the fourth place, as though coming to the world from the orb of the lands, so that thus in a certain way they might also embrace heaven, we indeed in no way fear lest such friends should sadden us either by their death or by depravity. But because they do not mingle with us in that familiarity with which men do (which very thing also pertains to the aerumnas of this life), and sometimes Satan, as we read, transfigures himself like an angel of light, to tempt those whom it is thus either needful to be instructed or just to be deceived: great mercy of God is necessary, lest anyone, when he thinks he has good angels as friends, should have evil daemons as feigned friends, and suffer them as enemies the more harmful, the more astute and deceitful. And to whom is that great mercy of God necessary, if not to great human misery, which is pressed by so great ignorance that it is easily deceived by their simulation?
And as for those philosophers in the impious city, who said that the gods were their friends, it is most certain that they fell upon malign demons, to whom that whole city itself is subjected, destined to have eternal punishment with them. For from their rites—or rather sacrileges—by which they deemed them to be worshiped, and from the most unclean games, where their crimes are celebrated, by which they thought they were to be placated, through those very authors and exactors of such and so great disgraces, it is sufficiently evident by whom they are worshiped.
[X] Sed neque sancti et fideles unius ueri Dei summique cultores ab eorum fallaciis et multiformi temptatione securi sunt. In hoc enim loco infirmitatis et diebus malignis etiam ista sollicitudo non est inutilis, ut illa securitas, ubi pax plenissima atque certissima est, desiderio feruentiore quaeratur. Ibi enim erunt naturae munera, hoc est, quae naturae nostrae ab omnium naturarum creatore donantur, non solum bona, uerum etiam sempiterna, non solum in animo, qui sanatur per sapientiam, uerum etiam in corpore, quod resurrectione renouabitur; ibi uirtutes, non contra ulla uitia uel mala quaecumque certantes, sed habentes uictoriae praemium aeternam pacem, quam nullus aduersarius inquietet.
[10] But neither are the saints and faithful, worshipers of the one true and supreme God, secure from their deceits and multiform temptation. For in this place of infirmity and in evil days even this solicitude is not useless, so that that security, where peace is most full and most certain, may be sought with more fervent desire. For there will be the gifts of nature, that is, those which are bestowed upon our nature by the creator of all natures, not only good but also everlasting, not only in the mind, which is healed through wisdom, but also in the body, which will be renewed by the resurrection; there the virtues, not contending against any vices or whatsoever evils, but having as the prize of victory eternal peace, which no adversary will disturb.
For this itself is the final beatitude, the end of perfection, which has no consuming end. Here, however, we are indeed called blessed, when we have peace, however small it can be had here in a good life; but this beatitude, compared with that beatitude which we call final, is found to be sheer misery. Therefore this peace, such as it can be here, when we mortal humans have it in mortal things, if we live rightly, virtue uses its goods rightly; but when we do not have it, virtue also uses well the evils which a man suffers.
[XI] Quapropter possemus dicere fines bonorum nostrorum esse pacem, sicut aeternam diximus uitam, praesertim quia ipsi ciuitati Dei, de qua nobis est ista operosissima disputatio, in sancto dicitur psalmo: Lauda Hierusalem Dominum, conlauda Deum tuum Sion. quoniam confirmauit seras portarum tuarum, benedixit filios tuos in te, qui posuit fines tuos pacem. Quando enim confirmatae fuerint serae portarum eius, iam in illam nullus intrabit nec ab illa ullus exibit.
[11] Wherefore we could say that the ends of our goods are peace, just as we have called life eternal, especially since to that very City of God, about which this our most laborious disputation is, it is said in a holy psalm: Praise the Lord, Jerusalem; praise your God, Zion. for he has made firm the bars of your gates, he has blessed your sons within you, he who has set your boundaries as peace. For when the bars of its gates shall have been made firm, then no one will enter into it, nor will anyone go out from it.
And through this we ought here to understand its ends to be that peace which we wish to show to be final. For the mystical name of that very city, that is, Jerusalem, as we have already said above, is interpreted “vision of peace.” But since the name of peace is also in frequent use among these mortal things, where assuredly there is not eternal life, for that reason we have preferred to commemorate the end of this city—where its highest good (summum bonum) will be—as eternal life rather than as peace.
Concerning which end the apostle says: Now indeed, having been freed from sin, and made servants to God, you have your fruit unto sanctification, but the end, eternal life. But again, because “eternal life” by those who do not have familiarity with the holy Scriptures can be taken also as the life of the wicked—either according to certain philosophers on account of the soul’s immortality, or also according to our faith on account of the interminable punishments of the impious, who assuredly cannot be tormented unto eternity unless they also live unto eternity—surely the end of this City, in which it will have its highest good, must be said to be either peace in eternal life or eternal life in peace, so that it may be more easily understood by all. For so great is the good of peace that even in earthly and mortal affairs nothing is wont to be heard more grateful, nothing more desirable to be coveted, nothing, finally, can be found better.
[XII] Quod mecum quisquis res humanas naturamque communem utcumque intuetur agnoscit; sicut enim nemo est qui gaudere nolit, ita nemo est qui pacem habere nolit. Quando quidem et ipsi, qui bella uolunt, nihil aliud quam uincere uolunt; ad gloriosam ergo pacem bellando cupiunt peruenire. Nam quid est aliud uictoria nisi subiectio repugnantium?
[XII] Which anyone who contemplates human affairs and the common nature, however he may, recognizes along with me; for just as there is no one who is unwilling to rejoice, so there is no one who is unwilling to have peace. Since indeed even those who want wars want nothing other than to conquer; therefore by waging war they desire to attain to glorious peace. For what else is victory than the subjection of those who resist?
For every man, even when waging war, seeks peace; but no one seeks war by pacifying. For even those who want the peace in which they are to be perturbed do not hate peace, but desire that it be changed according to their own arbitrament. Therefore they do not will that there not be peace, but that it be the peace which they want.
Finally, even if by sedition they separate themselves from others, unless they maintain with those very conspirators or their oath-sworn confederates some sort of semblance of peace, they do not accomplish what they intend. Accordingly, the robbers themselves, in order that they may be more vehemently and more safely hostile to the peace of the rest, wish to have the peace of their associates. But even if there be one so prepotent in strength and so wary of confidants that he entrusts himself to no partner and, lying in ambush alone and prevailing, carries off plunder, having overpowered and slain whom he can, yet with those certainly whom he cannot kill and from whom he wishes what he does to lie hidden, he holds some kind of shadow of peace.
In his own house, however, with his wife and with his children, and if he has any others there, he certainly strives to be pacate; for he is without doubt delighted when they obey at a nod. For if it does not happen, he grows indignant, he corrects, he avenges, and he composes the peace of his house, if thus it is necessary, even by raging, which he perceives cannot be unless the rest in the same domestic society be subjected to a certain principle, which he himself is in his own house. And therefore, if the servitude of many, either of a city or of a nation, were offered to him, so that they should serve him in the way in which he wished to be served in his own home, he would no longer hide himself as a robber in lurking-places, but would exalt himself conspicuous as a king, while the same cupidity and malice remained in him.
Sed faciamus aliquem, qualem canit poetica et fabulosa narratio, quem fortasse propter ipsam insociabilem feritatem semihominem quam hominem dicere maluerunt. Quamuis ergo huius regnum dirae speluncae fuerit solitudo tamque malitia singularis, ut ex hac ei nomen inuentum sit (Graece namque malus *kako\s dicitur, quod ille uocabatur), nulla coniux ei blandum ferret referretque sermonem, nullis filiis uel adluderet paruulis uel grandiusculis imperaret, nullo amici conloquio frueretur, nec Vulcani patris, quo uel hinc tantum non parum felicior fuit, quia tale monstrum ipse non genuit; nihil cuiquam daret, sed a quo posset quidquid uellet et quando posset quem uellet auferret: tamen in ipsa sua spelunca solitaria, cuius, ut describitur, semper recenti caede tepebat humus, nihil aliud quam pacem uolebat, in qua nemo illi molestus esset, nec eius quietem uis ullius terrorue turbaret. Cum corpore denique suo pacem habere cupiebat, et quantum habebat, tantum bene illi erat.
But let us fashion someone, such as the poetic and fabulous narration sings of, whom perhaps, on account of that very unsociable ferity, they preferred to call a half-man rather than a man. Although, then, this one’s kingdom was the solitude of a dire cavern, and his malice so singular that from this a name was invented for him (for in Greek “bad” is called kako\s, which he was called), no consort would bring and return to him a blandishing speech, he would neither dally with little children nor command the rather grown sons, he would enjoy no colloquy of a friend, nor of his father Vulcan—in respect of whom at least in this he was not a little happier, because he himself did not beget such a monster; he would give nothing to anyone, but from whom he could whatever he wished, and when he could whom he wished, he would take away: nevertheless, in his very solitary cave, whose ground, as it is described, was always warm with recent slaughter, he wanted nothing other than peace, in which no one should be troublesome to him, nor should anyone’s force or terror disturb his quiet. Finally, he longed to have peace with his own body, and in as far as he had it, so far it was well with him.
Since, with his limbs obeying, he issued commands, and, that he might pacify with all the haste he could his mortality rebelling against him from indigence, and the sedition of hunger, which was stirring up the soul to be dissociated and excluded from the body, he would snatch, kill, and devour; and although monstrous and wild, yet for the peace of his own life and health he was taking thought monstrously and ferociously; and through this, if he had wished to have the peace which he was quite achieving in his own cave and in himself also with others, he would be called neither evil nor a monster nor a half-man. Or if the form of his body and the belching of black fires from him deterred the society of men, perhaps he was raging not from a desire to harm, but from the necessity of living. In truth, this fellow may not have existed, or—what is more to be believed—was not such as he is described by poetic vanity; for unless Cacus were too much accused, Hercules would be too little praised.
Therefore such a man, or better, a half‑man, as I said, is believed not to have existed, like many figments of the poets. For even the most savage wild beasts, from which he had a share of ferocity (for he was also called half‑beast), maintain their own kind by a certain peace—by cohabiting, begetting, bearing, by warming and nourishing their offspring—though most are insociable and solitary‑roaming; not, to be sure, like sheep, deer, doves, starlings, bees, but like lions, <wolves>, foxes, eagles, owls. For what tigress does not softly murmur to her own cubs and, with pacified ferocity, caress them?
What kite, however solitary he may circle about for plunder, does not couple in wedlock, heap up a nest, keep the eggs warm, feed the chicks, and, as it were with his own materfamilias, preserve the domestic society with as much peace as he can? How much more is man borne, in a certain manner by the laws of his nature, to enter into society and to obtain peace with human beings, so far as in him lies, for all, since even the wicked wage war for the peace of their own and wish, if they can, to make all men their own, so that all persons and all things may be in servitude to one; in what way, unless they consent to his peace either by loving or by fearing? For thus pride perversely imitates God.
Itaque pacem iniquorum in pacis comparatione iustorum ille uidet nec pacem esse dicendam, qui nouit praeponere recta prauis et ordinata peruersis. Quod autem peruersum est, etiam hoc necesse est ut in aliqua et ex aliqua et cum aliqua rerum parte pacatum sit, in quibus est uel ex quibus constat; alioquin nihil esset omnino. Velut si quisquam capite deorsum pendeat, peruersus est utique situs corporis et ordo membrorum, quia id, quod desuper esse natura postulat, subter est, et quod illa subter uult esse, desuper factum est; conturbauit carnis pacem ista peruersitas et ideo molesta est: uerum tamen anima corpori suo pacata est et pro eius salute satagit, et ideo est qui doleat; quae si molestiis eius exclusa discesserit, quamdiu compago membrorum manet, non est sine quadam partium pace quod remanet, et ideo est adhuc qui pendeat.
Therefore, the one who knows to prefer the straight to the crooked and the ordered to the perverse sees that the peace of the unjust, in comparison with the peace of the just, is not to be called peace. But what is perverse, even that must be pacified in some part and from some part and with some part of things, in which it is or from which it consists; otherwise it would be nothing at all. For example, if someone hangs head downward, the position of the body and the order of the members is certainly perverse, because that which nature demands to be above is below, and that which it wills to be below has been made above; this perversity has disturbed the peace of the flesh and is therefore troublesome: yet nevertheless the soul is at peace with its body and is solicitous for its health, and therefore there is one to feel pain; and if it, having been driven out by its troubles, departs, so long as the structure of the members remains, what remains is not without a certain peace of parts, and therefore there is still one who hangs.
And the terrene body, which presses toward the earth and resists the bond by which it is suspended, strives into the order of its own peace and, by a kind of voice of its weight, asks for the place where it may rest; and already exanimate and without any sensation, yet it does not depart from the natural peace of its order, either when it holds it, or when it is borne toward it. For if remedies and tending be applied, which do not allow the form of the cadaver to be dissolved and to slip away, still a certain peace joins parts to parts and applies the whole mass to a terrene and suitable, and thereby peaceable, place. But if no care of preserving be applied, but it be left to its natural course, for so long it, as it were, is in tumult with exhalations at variance and incongruous with our sense (for that is what is felt in the stench), until it comes into agreement with the elements of the world and little by little and particle by particle withdraws into their peace.
In no way, however, is anything on that account subtracted from the laws of that highest Creator and Ordainer, by whom the peace of the universe is administered; because, even if from the cadaver of a greater living being tiny animals are born, by that same law of the Creator each little body serves its own little soul in the peace of well-being; and even if the flesh of the dead is devoured by other animals, those same laws, diffused through all things, making peace by harmonizing the congruent with the congruent for the health of each kind of mortals, find them wherever they are drawn, to whatever things they are joined, and into whatever things they are converted and changed.
[XIII] Pax itaque corporis est ordinata temperatura partium, pax animae inrationalis ordinata requies appetitionum, pax animae rationalis ordinata cognitionis actionisque consensio, pax corporis et animae ordinata uita et salus animantis, pax hominis mortalis et Dei ordinata in fide sub aeterna lege oboedientia, pax hominum ordinata concordia, pax domus ordinata imperandi atque oboediendi concordia cohabitantium, pax ciuitatis ordinata imperandi atque oboediendi concordia ciuium, pax caelestis ciuitatis ordinatissima et concordissima societas fruendi Deo et inuicem in Deo, pax omnium rerum tranquillitas ordinis. Ordo est parium dispariumque rerum sua cuique loca tribuens dispositio. Proinde miseri, quia, in quantum miseri sunt, utique in pace non sunt, tranquillitate quidem ordinis carent, ubi perturbatio nulla est; Verum tamen quia merito iusteque sunt miseri, in ea quoque ipsa miseria sua praeter ordinem esse non possunt; non quidem coniuncti beatis, sed ab eis tamen ordinis lege seiuncti.
[13] Therefore the peace of the body is the ordered temperament of the parts; the peace of the irrational soul is the ordered rest of the appetites; the peace of the rational soul is the ordered consensus of cognition and action; the peace of body and soul is the ordered life and health of the living being; the peace of mortal man and of God is the ordered obedience in faith under the eternal law; the peace of human beings is ordered concord; the peace of a house is the ordered concord of commanding and obeying among cohabitants; the peace of a city is the ordered concord of commanding and obeying among citizens; the peace of the heavenly city is the most ordered and most concordant fellowship of enjoying God and one another in God; the peace of all things is the tranquility of order. Order is the disposition assigning to each its own places, of equal and unequal things. Accordingly, the wretched, since, insofar as they are wretched, they are not in peace, indeed lack the tranquility of order, where there is no disturbance; yet, because they are wretched deservedly and justly, not even in that their very misery can they be outside order— not indeed joined to the blessed, but by the law of order separated from them.
They, when they are without perturbation, are fitted by whatever congruence to the things in which they are; and through this there is in them a certain tranquility of order, therefore there is in them some peace. Yet for this reason they are wretched, because, although in some security they do not feel pain, nevertheless they are not there where they ought to be secure and not to suffer pain; more wretched, however, if they have not peace with that very law by which the natural order is administered. But when they suffer pain, in that part from which they suffer, a perturbation of peace has arisen; yet in that part there is still peace in which neither pain burns nor the very structure is dissolved.
Therefore, just as there is a certain life without pain, whereas pain cannot exist without some life, so there is a certain peace without any war, but war cannot exist without some peace; not inasmuch as it is war, but inasmuch as it is carried on by those, or in those, which are certain natures; which would in no way exist, if they did not subsist by some kind of peace.
Quapropter est natura, in qua nullum malum est uel etiam in qua nullum esse malum potest; esse autem natura, in qua nullum bonum sit, non potest. Proinde nec ipsius diaboli natura, in quantum natura est, malum est; sed peruersitas eam malam facit. Itaque in ueritate non stetit, sed ueritatis iudicium non euasit; in ordinis tranquillitate non mansit, nec ideo tamen a potestate ordinatoris effugit.
Wherefore there is a nature in which there is no evil, or even in which no evil can be; but that there should be a nature in which there is no good cannot be. Accordingly, not even the very nature of the devil, insofar as it is nature, is evil; but perversity makes it evil. Thus he did not stand in the truth, but he did not escape the judgment of truth; he did not remain in the tranquillity of order, nor yet for that reason did he flee the power of the ordainer.
The good of God, which is in him by nature, does not withdraw him from the justice of God, by which he is ordained unto punishment; nor there does God pursue the good which he created, but the evil which that one committed. For he does not take away entirely what he gave to nature, but he takes away something, he leaves something, so that there may be one who suffers pain for what he has taken away. And the pain itself is a testimony of the good removed and of the good left.
For unless a good were left, he could not grieve the good that was lost. For he who sins is worse, if he rejoices in the loss of equity; but he who is tormented, if he acquires no good from it, grieves the loss of salvation. And since both equity and salvation are good, and at the loss of a good one ought rather to grieve than to rejoice (if, however, there be not a compensation of something better; moreover, the equity of the mind is better than the health of the body): assuredly it is more fitting that the unjust man should grieve in punishment than that he rejoiced in the delict.
As therefore the rejoicing at the desertion of the good in sin is a witness of an evil will, so the pain of a lost good in punishment is a witness of a good nature. For whoever grieves the peace of his nature lost, he grieves this from certain relics of peace, by which it comes about that nature is friendly to him. Moreover, this is done rightly in the extreme punishment, that the unjust and impious bewail in torments the losses of natural goods, sensing their remover to be the most just God, whom they despised as the most benign bestower.
Therefore God, the most wise Founder of all natures and the most just Ordainer, who instituted the mortal human race as the greatest ornament of things terrestrial, gave to human beings certain goods congruent to this life, that is, temporal peace according to the measure of mortal life, in their very well-being and safety and in the society of their kind, and whatever things are necessary for this peace either to be safeguarded or to be recovered (such as those things which fitly and suitably adjoin the senses—light, voice, breathable breezes, potable waters, and whatever is congruent for nourishing, covering, caring for, and adorning the body)—by a most equitable pact: that he who, being mortal, has used rightly such goods accommodated to the peace of mortals may receive ampler and better—namely, the very peace of immortality and the glory and honor suitable to it—in eternal life, for the enjoyment of God and of one’s neighbor in God; but he who [uses them] wrongly will not receive those and will lose these.
[XIV] Omnis igitur usus rerum temporalium refertur ad fructum pacis terrenae in terrena ciuitate; in caelesti autem ciuitate refertur ad fructum pacis aeternae. Quapropter si inrationalia essemus animantia, nihil appeteremus praeter ordinatam temperaturam partium corporis et requiem appetitionum; nihil ergo praeter quietem carnis et copiam uoluptatum, ut pax corporis prodesset paci animae. Si enim desit pax corporis, impeditur etiam inrationalis animae pax, quia requiem appetitionum consequi non potest.
[XIV] Therefore every use of temporal things is referred to the fruit of earthly peace in the earthly city; but in the heavenly city it is referred to the fruit of eternal peace. Wherefore, if we were irrational animals, we would seek nothing except the ordered temperament of the parts of the body and the repose of the appetites; nothing, therefore, except the quiet of the flesh and an abundance of pleasures, so that the peace of the body might profit the peace of the soul. For if the peace of the body is lacking, even the peace of the irrational soul is hindered, because it cannot attain the repose of the appetites.
Both together, however, at once serve that peace which the soul and the body have between themselves, that is, of ordered life and health. For, just as living creatures show that they love the peace of the body when they flee pain, and the peace of the soul when, for the sake of fulfilling the needs of their appetitions, they follow pleasure: so, by fleeing death, they indicate sufficiently how much they love the peace by which the soul and the body are reconciled to one another. But since a rational soul is in man, all this which he has in common with beasts he subjects to the peace of the rational soul, so that with the mind he may contemplate something and according to this do something, that there may be for him an ordered harmony of cognition and action, which we said was the peace of the rational soul.
For this he ought to will neither to be molested by pain nor to be perturbed by desire nor to be dissolved by death, in order that he may recognize something useful and, according to that cognition, compose his life and mores. But lest by the very zeal for cognition, on account of the infirmity of the human mind, he run into the pest of some error, he has need of a divine magisterium, to which he may obey with certainty, and of an aid, that he may obey freely. And since, so long as he is in this mortal body, he is a pilgrim away from the Lord: he walks by faith, not by sight; and therefore he refers every peace, whether of the body or of the soul or of the body and soul together, to that peace which to the mortal man is with the immortal God, so that there may be for him an obedience ordered in faith under the eternal law.
Now indeed, since the two chief precepts, that is, the love of God and the love of neighbor, the Master, God, teaches—within which a man finds three things to love: God, himself, and neighbor—and he does not err in loving himself who loves God, it follows that he should also look out for his neighbor to love God, whom he is commanded to love as himself (so his wife, so his sons, so his domestics, so the other human beings whom he shall be able), and for this he should wish to be looked out for by his neighbor, if perchance he is in need; and through this he will be at peace, as far as lies in him, with every man, with the peace of men—that is, ordered concord—whose order here is: first, that he harm no one; then, that he also benefit whom he shall be able. Therefore, first, the care of his own is in him; for to them he has a more opportune and easier access for consulting, either by the order of nature or of human society itself. Whence the apostle says: But whoever does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, denies the faith and is worse than an infidel.
From this, therefore, domestic peace also arises, that is, the ordered concord of commanding and obeying among cohabitants. For they command—those who take counsel (for the good): as the husband to the wife, parents to children, masters to slaves. But they obey for whom counsel is taken: as wives their husbands, children their parents, slaves their masters. Yet in the house of the just man living by faith and still a pilgrim from that heavenly city, even those who command serve those whom they seem to command.
[XV] Hoc naturalis ordo praescribit, ita Deus hominem condidit. Nam: Dominetur, inquit, piscium maris et uolatilium caeli et omnium repentium, quae repunt super terram. Rationalem factum ad imaginem suam noluit nisi inrationabilibus dominari; non hominem homini, sed hominem pecori.
[15] This the natural order prescribes: thus God fashioned man. For, “Let him have dominion,” he says, “over the fishes of the sea and the fliers of the heaven, and over all the creepers that creep upon the earth.” Having made him rational according to his own image, he willed him to have dominion only over the irrational; not man over man, but man over cattle.
Thence the first just men were constituted shepherds of flocks rather than kings of men, so that even thus God might insinuate what the order of creatures requires, what the desert of sins exacts. For the condition of servitude is understood by law to have been imposed upon the sinner. Accordingly, nowhere in the Scriptures do we read “servant” before the just Noah punished the sin of his son with this word.
Nay then, that name was earned by fault, not by nature. Moreover, the origin of the vocable “servi” in the Latin tongue is believed to be drawn from this: those who by the right of war could be killed, when they were preserved by the victors, became “servi,” so called from preserving; which very thing also is not without the desert of sin. For even when a just war is waged, it is fought on account of sin on the contrary side; and every victory, since it also befalls the wicked, by divine judgment humbles the vanquished, either amending sins or punishing.
Man of God Daniel is a witness, when, placed in captivity, he confesses to God his sins and the sins of his people and with pious grief testifies that this is the cause of that captivity. Therefore the first cause of servitude is sin, so that a man is subjected to a man by the bond of condition; which does not occur unless God judges, with whom there is no iniquity, and who knows how to distribute diverse penalties to the merits of delinquents. But just as the supernal Lord says; “Everyone who does sin is a slave of sin,” and through this many indeed religious serve unjust masters, yet not as free men: “For by whom anyone has been overcome, to this one he is also a slave addicted.”
And surely it is happier to serve a man than libido, since—with the most savage domination—the very libido of dominating lays waste the hearts of mortals, to say nothing of other [desires]. But for human beings, in that order of peace whereby some are subject to others, just as humility benefits those who serve, so pride harms those who dominate. Yet by nature, in which God first created the human being, no one is a slave of man or of sin.
But even penal servitude is ordered by that law which bids the natural order be conserved and forbids it to be perturbed; for if nothing had been done against that law, there would be nothing to be coerced by penal servitude. And therefore the Apostle also admonishes slaves to be subject to their masters and to serve them from the heart with good will; namely, that if they cannot be made free by their masters, they may themselves in a certain way make their servitude free, by serving not with deceitful fear but with faithful love, until iniquity passes away and every principality and human power is abolished, and God is all in all.
[XVI] Quocirca etiamsi habuerunt seruos iusti patres nostri, sic administrabant domesticam pacem, ut secundum haec temporalia bona filiorum sortem a seruorum condicione distinguerent; ad Deum autem colendum, in quo aeterna bona speranda sunt, omnibus domus suae membris pari dilectione consulerent. Quod naturalis ordo ita praescribit, ut nomen patrum familias hinc exortum sit et tam late uulgatum, ut etiam inique dominantes hoc se gaudeant appellari. Qui autem ueri patres familias sunt, omnibus in familia sua tamquam filiis ad colendum et promerendum Deum consulunt, desiderantes atque optantes uenire ad caelestem domum, ubi necessarium non sit officium imperandi mortalibus, quia necessarium non erit officium consulendi iam in illa inmortalitate felicibus; quo donec ueniatur, magis debent patres quod dominantur, quam serui tolerare quod seruiunt.
[16] Wherefore, even if our just fathers had servants, they thus administered domestic peace, that according to these temporal goods they distinguished the lot of sons from the condition of servants; but for the worshiping of God, in whom eternal goods are to be hoped for, they provided for all the members of their house with equal love. This the natural order thus prescribes, that the name “fathers of families” arose from this and has been so widely diffused, that even those unjustly dominating rejoice to be called this. But those who are true fathers of families look after all in their household as sons for worshiping and meriting the favor of God, desiring and wishing to come to the heavenly home, where the office of commanding mortals will not be necessary, because the office of giving counsel will not be necessary to the already blessed in that immortality; until which is reached, fathers ought rather to tolerate that they rule, than servants to tolerate that they serve.
But if anyone in the household, through disobedience, opposes domestic peace, he is corrected either by word, or by a blow, or by any other kind of penalty that is just and licit, as far as human society grants, for the utility of the one who corrects, so that he may be fitted back to the peace from which he had sprung apart. For just as it is not of beneficence, by helping, to bring it about that a good which is greater be lost, so it is not of innocence, by sparing, to allow that one fall into a graver evil. It pertains, therefore, to the office of the innocent not only to inflict evil on no one, but also to restrain from sin or to punish sin, so that either he who is chastised may be corrected by the experience, or others may be terrified by the example.
Since therefore a man’s house ought to be the beginning or a particle of the city, and every beginning is referred to some end of its own kind, and every part to the integrity of the universe of which it is a part, it sufficiently appears a consequent that domestic peace be referred to civic peace—that is, that the ordered concord of commanding and obeying among cohabitants be referred to the ordered concord of commanding and obeying among citizens. Thus it comes about that the paterfamilias ought to take precepts from the law of the city, by which he may so govern his house as to be conducive to the peace of the city.
[XVII] Sed domus hominum, qui non uiuunt ex fide, pacem terre nam ex huius temporalis uitae rebus commodisque sectatur; domus autem hominum ex fide uiuentium expectat ea, quae in futurum aeterna promissa sunt, terrenisque rebus ac temporalibus tamquam peregrina utitur, non quibus capiatur et auertatur quo tendit in Deum, sed quibus sustentetur ad facilius toleranda minimeque augenda onera corporis corruptibilis, quod adgrauat animam. Idcirco rerum uitae huic mortali necessariarum utrisque hominibus et utrique domui communis est usus; sed finis utendi cuique suus proprius multumque diuersus. Ita etiam terrena ciuitas, quae non uiuit ex fide, terrenam pacem appetit in eoque defigit imperandi oboediendique concordiam ciuium, ut sit eis de rebus ad mortalem uitam pertinentibus humanarum quaedam compositio, uoluntatum.
[17] But the household of men who do not live from faith pursues earthly peace from the things and commodities of this temporal life; but the household of men living from faith awaits those things which in the future have been promised as eternal, and uses terrene and temporal things as a stranger, not by which it be captured and be turned away from whither it tends toward God, but by which it be sustained for more easily bearing, and by no means increasing, the burdens of the corruptible body, which aggravates the soul. Therefore the use of the things necessary to this mortal life is common to both kinds of men and to each household; but the end of using is its own proper one and very diverse for each. Thus also the earthly city, which does not live from faith, seeks earthly peace and on this fixes the concord of citizens in commanding and obeying, so that there may be for them, concerning things pertaining to mortal life, a certain composition of human wills.
But the celestial city, or rather that part of it which in this mortality sojourns and lives by faith, must also make use of this peace, until this mortality itself, for which such peace is necessary, passes away; and therefore, while among the earthly city it conducts the life of its pilgrimage as though captive, with the promise of redemption already and the spiritual gift received as a kind of pledge, it does not hesitate to obey the laws of the earthly city, by which are administered those things that are adapted to sustaining mortal life, so that, since the mortality itself is common, concord may be kept in matters pertaining to it between the two cities. Yet because the earthly city had certain of its own sages—whom divine discipline disapproves—who, either surmising or deceived by demons, believed that many gods must be conciliated for human affairs and that to their diverse offices different subordinates somehow pertain: to one the body, to another the soul, and in the very body to one the head, to another the neck, and the several other parts to several gods; likewise in the soul to one natural talent, to another learning, to another anger, to another concupiscence; and in the very adjuncts of life to one cattle, to another wheat, to another wine, to another oil, to another forests, to another coins, to another navigation, to another wars and victories, to another marriages, to another childbirth and fecundity, and to others the other remaining things; but the celestial city, since it knew that the one God alone is to be worshiped and that only to Him is service to be rendered by that servitude which in Greek is called latreia and is owed to none but God, judged with faithful piety as much: it came about that it could not have laws of religion in common with the earthly city, and that of necessity it had to dissent from it on these points and to be a burden to those who think differently, and to endure their wraths and hatreds and the assaults of persecutions—unless at times it repelled the minds of its adversaries by the terror of its multitude, and always by divine aid. Therefore this celestial city, while it peregrinates upon earth, calls citizens from all nations and gathers a pilgrim commonwealth in all tongues, not caring about whatever is diverse in morals, laws, and institutions by which earthly peace is either sought or held, rescinding or destroying none of those things, nay rather even preserving and following what—though diverse among different nations—is nevertheless aimed at one and the same end of earthly peace, provided it does not impede the religion by which the one highest and true God is taught to be worshiped.
Therefore the celestial city also, in this its pilgrimage, makes use of the terrestrial peace and of the composition of human wills about things that pertain to the mortal nature of men, so far as it is permitted with piety and religion safe; it guards and seeks it, and it refers that terrestrial peace to the celestial peace, which truly is so peace that it ought to be held and called the sole peace of the rational creature, namely the most well-ordered and most concordant society of the fruition of God and of one another in God; and when that shall have been reached, there will not be a mortal life, but plainly and surely a vital life, nor an animal body, which, while it is corrupted, burdens the soul, but a spiritual [body] without any need, in every part subject to the will. This peace, while it sojourns in faith, it possesses, and from this faith it lives justly, since toward the attaining of that peace it refers whatever good actions it performs toward God and neighbor, since the life of a city is assuredly social.
[XVIII] Quod autem adtinet ad illam differentiam, quam de Academicis nouis Varro adhibuit, quibus incerta sunt omnia, omnino ciuitas Dei talem dubitationem tamquam dementiam detestatur, habens de rebus, quas mente atque ratione comprehendit, etiamsi paruam propter corpus corruptibile, quod adgrauat animam (quoniam, sicut dicit apostolus, ex parte scimus), tamen certissimam scientiam, creditque sensibus in rei cuiusque euidentia, quibus per corpus animus utitur, quoniam miserabilius fallitur, qui numquam putat eis esse credendum; credit etiam scripturis sanctis et ueteribus et nouis, quas canonicas appellamus, unde fides ipsa concepta est, ex qua iustus uiuit; per quam sine dubitatione ambulamus, quamdiu peregrinamur a Domino; qua salua atque certa d e quibusdam rebus, quas neque sensu neque ratione percepimus neque nobis per scripturam canonicam claruerunt nec per testes, quibus non credere absurdum est, in nostram notitiam peruenerunt, sine iusta reprehensione dubitamus.
[18] But as regards that differentiation which Varro applied about the New Academics, for whom all things are uncertain, the City of God utterly detests such dubitation as madness, having—about things which it grasps by mind and reason—even if a small (share) on account of the corruptible body, which weighs down the soul (since, as the apostle says, we know in part), yet most certain knowledge; and it trusts the senses in the evidence of each thing, which the soul uses through the body, since he is more miserably deceived who never thinks they are to be believed; it also believes the holy Scriptures, both Old and New, which we call canonical, whence faith itself has been conceived, from which the just man lives; through which we walk without doubt, so long as we are pilgrims away from the Lord; by which, being safe and sure, about certain things which we have neither perceived by sense nor by reason, nor have become clear to us through canonical Scripture, nor have come into our knowledge through witnesses whom it is absurd not to believe, we doubt without just reprehension.
[XIX] Nihil sane ad istam pertinet ciuitatem quo habitu uel more uiuendi, si non est contra diuina praecepta, istam fidem, qua peruenitur ad Deum, quisque sectetur; unde ipsos quoque philosophos, quando Christiani fiunt, non habitum uel consuetudinem uictus, quae nihil inpedit religionem, sed falsa dogmata mutare compellit. Vnde illam quam Varro adhibuit ex Cynicis differentiam, si nihil turpiter atque intemperanter agat, omnino non curat. Ex tribus uero illis uitae generibus, otioso, actuoso et ex utroque composito, quamuis salua fide quisque possit in quolibet eorum uitam ducere et ad sempiterna praemia peruenire, interest tamen quid amore teneat ueritatis, quid officio caritatis inpendat.
[19] Truly nothing pertains to that City as to what habit or manner of living one follows this faith—by which one comes through to God—if it is not against the divine precepts; whence it even compels the philosophers themselves, when they become Christians, not to change habit or the custom of diet, which in no way hinders religion, but to change false dogmas. Hence that difference which Varro adopted from the Cynics, provided one does nothing shamefully or intemperately, it does not concern at all. But from those three kinds of life—the leisured, the active, and the composite of both—although, with faith kept safe, each person can lead life in any of them and arrive at everlasting rewards, yet it does matter what he is held to by love of truth, and what he expends by the office of charity.
Nor ought anyone to be so at leisure as not, in that same leisure, to consider the utility of his neighbor, nor so active as not to seek the contemplation of God. In leisure an inert vacancy ought not to delight, but either the inquisition or the discovery of truth, so that in it each may make progress and not begrudge to another what he has found. In action, indeed, it is not honor in this life or power that must be loved—since all things are vain under the sun—but the work itself which is done through that same honor or power, if it is done rightly and usefully, that is, so that it may avail for that salvation of the subjects which is according to God; about which we have already disputed above.
For which reason the apostle says: He who desires the episcopate, desires a good work. He wished to expound what the episcopate is, because it is the name of a work, not of an honor. For it is a Greek word and from there derived, in that he who is set over those over whom he is set superintends, namely bearing their care; for *skopo\s is intention; therefore *e)piskopei=n, if we wish, we can say in Latin “to superintend,” so that he may understand that he is not a bishop who has loved to be in charge, not to be of use.
Accordingly, no one is prohibited from the zeal for getting-to-know the truth, which pertains to laudable leisure; but the higher place, without which the people cannot be ruled, even if it is so held and administered as is fitting, is nevertheless indecently desired. Wherefore the love (charity) of truth seeks holy leisure; the necessity of charity undertakes just business. If no one imposes that burden, one must have leisure for perceiving and beholding truth; but if it is imposed, it must be undertaken on account of the necessity of charity; yet not even so must the delectation of truth be abandoned altogether, lest that sweetness be withdrawn and this necessity oppress.
[XX] Quam ob rem summum bonum ciuitatis Dei cum sit pax aeterna atque perfecta, non per quam mortales transeant nascendo atque moriendo, sed in qua inmortales maneant nihil aduersi omnino patiendo: quis est qui illam uitam uel beatissimam neget uel in eius comparatione istam, quae hic agitur, quantislibet animi et corporis externarumque rerum bonis plena sit, non miserrimam iudicet? Quam tamen quicumque sic habet, ut eius usum referat ad illius finem, quam diligit ardentissime ac fidelissime sperat, non absurde dici etiam nunc beatus potest, spe illa potius quam re ista. Res ista uero sine spe illa beatitudo falsa et magna miseria est; non enim ueris animi bonis utitur, quoniam non est uera sapientia, quae intentionem suam in his quae prudenter discernit, gerit fortiter, cohibet temperanter iusteque distribuit, non ad illum dirigit finem, ubi erit Deus omnia in omnibus, aeternitate certa et pace perfecta.
[20] For which reason, since the summum bonum of the City of God is eternal and perfect peace—not that through which mortals pass by being born and dying, but in which immortals remain, suffering nothing adverse at all—who is there who would either deny that life to be most beatific, or, in comparison with it, would not judge this one, which is carried on here, however full it be of the goods of mind and body and of external things, to be most miserable? Yet whoever has this life in such a way that he refers its use to the end of that other, which he loves most ardently and hopes most faithfully, can not absurdly be said even now to be blessed, by that hope rather than by this reality. But this reality without that hope is a false beatitude and a great misery; for it does not employ the true goods of the soul, since it is not true wisdom—which, in those things which it prudently discerns, bears bravely, restrains temperately, and distributes justly, does not direct its intention to that end where God will be all in all, with sure eternity and perfect peace.
[XXI] Quapropter nunc est locus, ut quam potero breuiter ac dilucide expediam, quod in secundo huius operis libro me demonstraturum esse promisi, secundum definitiones, quibus apud Ciceronem utitur Scipio in libris de re publica, numquam rem publicam fuisse Romanam. Breuiter enim rem publicam definit esse rem populi. Quae definitio si uera est, numquam fuit Romana res publica, quia numquam fuit res populi, quam definitionem uoluit esse rei publicae.
[21] Wherefore now is the place for me to set forth, as briefly and clearly as I can, what in the second book of this work I promised I would demonstrate: that, according to the definitions which Scipio uses in Cicero’s books On the Republic, the Roman republic never existed. For he briefly defines a republic to be the affair of a people. Which definition, if it is true, the Roman republic never was, because it was never the people’s affair—the definition he wished to be that of a republic.
For he defined a people to be an assemblage of a multitude associated by consent in law and by a communion of utility. Moreover, what he means by consent in law he explains by disputation, showing by this that the republic cannot be conducted without justice; where, therefore, true justice is not, neither can there be law. For what is done by law is surely done justly; but what is done unjustly cannot be done by law.
For unjust enactments of men are not to be called or thought laws; since they themselves also say that that is law which has emanated from the fountain of justice, and that false is the saying, which some not thinking rightly are wont to say, that law is what is useful to him who has the greater power. Wherefore, where true justice is not, an assembly of men associated by a consensus of law cannot be, and therefore neither a people, according to that definition of Scipio or Cicero; and if not a people, neither an affair of the people, but rather of whatever sort of multitude, which is not worthy of the name “people.”
And therefore, if the commonwealth is the people’s thing, and that is not a people which is not associated by a consensus of right, and there is not right where no justice is: beyond doubt it is gathered that where justice is not, there is no commonwealth. Justice, furthermore, is that virtue which distributes to each his own. What, then, is the justice of a human being which removes the human being himself from the true God and subjects him to unclean daemons?
Disputatur certe acerrime atque fortissime in eisdem ipsis de re publica libris aduersus iniustitiam pro iustitia. Et quoniam, cum prius ageretur pro iniustitiae partibus contra iustitiam et diceretur nisi per iniustitiam rem publicam stare gerique non posse, hoc ueluti ualidissimum positum erat, iniustum esse, ut homines hominibus dominantibus seruiant; quam tamen iniustitiam nisi sequatur imperiosa ciuitas, cuius est magna res publica, non eam posse prouinciis imperare: responsum est a parte iustitiae ideo iustum esse, quod talibus hominibus sit utilis seruitus, et pro utilitate eorum fieri, cum recte fit, id est cum improbis aufertur iniuriarum licentia, et domiti melius se habebunt, quia indomiti deterius se habuerunt; subditumque est, ut ista ratio firmaretur, ueluti a natura sumptum nobile exemplum atque dictum est: "Cur igitur Deus homini, animus imperat corpori, ratio libidini ceterisque uitiosis animi partibus?" Plane hoc exemplo satis edoctum est quibusdam esse utilem seruitutem, et Deo quidem ut seruiatur utile esse omnibus. Seruiens autem Deo animus recte imperat corpori, inque ipso animo ratio Deo Domino subdita recte imperat libidini uitiisque ceteris.
Assuredly there is dispute most keenly and most stoutly in those very books On the Republic against injustice on behalf of justice. And since, when previously the case was being pled for the party of injustice against justice and it was being said that unless through injustice the republic cannot stand and be administered, this was posited as if most weighty: that it is unjust for men to serve men who are lording it; yet unless a commanding state, whose commonwealth is great, follows that injustice, it cannot command provinces: it was answered by the side of justice that therefore it is just, because servitude is useful to such men, and that it is done for their utility, when it is done rightly, that is, when the license of injuries is taken from the wicked; and, once tamed, they will be better off, because untamed they were worse off. And it was subjoined, that this reasoning might be strengthened, a noble example as if taken from nature, and it was said: "Why then does God command man, the mind command the body, reason [command] libido and the other vicious parts of the soul?" Clearly by this example it has been sufficiently taught that servitude is useful to some, and that, as for God to be served, it is useful to all. But the mind serving God rightly commands the body, and in the mind itself reason, subjected to God the Lord, rightly commands libido and the other vices.
Wherefore, when a man does not serve God, what is to be thought to be of justice in him? since indeed, not serving God, in no way can the mind justly command the body, or human reason the vices. And if in such a man there is no justice, without doubt neither is there in the society of men which consists of such men.
Therefore here there is not that consensus of right, which makes a multitude of men a people, whose affair is said to be the commonwealth . For what shall I say of utility, by the communion of which also the associated company of men, just as this definition holds itself, is named a people? For although, if you attend carefully, there is no utility at all for the living who live impiously, as everyone lives who does not serve God and serves the demons—the more impious the more they wish, since they are most unclean spirits, to be sacrificed to as gods—yet what we have said about the consensus of right I judge to be sufficient, whence it may appear through this definition that it is not a people, whose affair is said to be the commonwealth, in which justice is not. For if they say that the Romans in their commonwealth served not unclean spirits, but good and holy gods: must the same things be repeated so many times, which already we have said enough, nay beyond what is enough?
For who has come to this point through the previous books of this work who can still doubt that the Romans served evil and impure daemons, unless either excessively stolid or most impudently contentious? But to be silent about of what sort they are whom they worshiped with sacrifices: in the law of the true God it is written: The one sacrificing to gods shall be eradicated, except to the Lord alone. Therefore He who with so great a commination commanded this did not will that sacrifice be offered either to good gods or to bad gods.
[XXII] Sed responderi potest: "Quis iste Deus est aut unde dignus probatur, cui deberent obtemperare Romani, ut nullum deorum praeter ipsum colerent sacrificiis?" Magnae caecitatis est, adhuc quaerere, quis iste sit Deus. Ipse est Deus, cuius prophetae praedixerunt ista quae cernimus. Ipse est Deus, a quo responsum accepit Abraham: In semine tuo benedicentur omnes gentes.
[22] But it can be replied: "Who is this God, or whence is he proved worthy, to whom the Romans ought to have obeyed, so that they worship no god with sacrifices except him alone?" It is of great blindness still to ask who this God is. He is God, whose prophets predicted these things which we behold. He is God, from whom Abraham received the response: In your seed all nations shall be blessed.
That this came to pass in Christ, who according to the flesh sprang from that seed, those very men who have remained enemies of this Name, whether they will or not, recognize. He is the God whose divine Spirit spoke through them, whose things predicted and fulfilled through the Church, which we see diffused through the whole world, I have set forth in the preceding books. He is the God whom Varro, the most learned of the Romans, thinks to be Jupiter, though not knowing what he says; which, however, I thought should be mentioned for this reason: because a man of such great knowledge could judge this God neither to be nonexistent nor of low account.
[XXIII] Nam in libris, quos *e)k *logi/wn *filosofi/as appellat, in quibus exequitur atque conscribit rerum ad philosophiam pertinentium uelut diuina responsa, ut ipsa uerba eius, quem ad modum ex Graeca lingua in Latinam interpretata sunt, ponam: "Interroganti, inquit, quem deum placando reuocare possit uxorem suam a Christianismo, haec ait uersibus Apollo." Deinde uerba uelut Apollinis ista sunt: "Forte magis poteris in aqua inpressis litteris scribere aut adinflans leues pinnas per aera auis uolare, quam pollutae reuoces impiae uxoris sensum. Pergat quo modo uult inanibus fallaciis + perseuerans et lamentari fallaciis mortuum Deum cantans, quem iudicibus recta sentientibus perditum pessima in speciosis ferro uincta mors interfecit." Deinde post hos uersus Apollinis, qui non stante metro Latine interpretati sunt, subiunxit atque ait: "In his quidem inremediabile sententiae eorum manifestauit dicens, quoniam Iudaei suscipiunt Deum magis quam isti." Ecce, ubi decolorans Christum Iudaeos praeposuit Christianis, confitens quod Iudaei suscipiant Deum. Sic enim exposuit uersus Apollinis, ubi iudicibus recta sentientibus Christum dicit occisum, tamquam illis iuste iudicantibus merito sit ille punitus.
[23] For in the books which he entitles *From the Oracles of Philosophy*, in which he sets forth and compiles things pertaining to philosophy as though divine responses, so that I may set down his very words, as they have been translated from the Greek tongue into Latin: “To one asking,” he says, “by placating which god he might be able to call back his wife from Christianity, Apollo said these things in verses.” Then the words as if of Apollo are these: “You will more likely be able to write with letters imprinted on water, or, by blowing upon them, to make light feathers fly through the air like a bird, than to call back the mind of a defiled impious wife. Let her go on as she wishes, persevering in empty fallacies + and to wail with fallacies, singing that God is dead, whom, with the judges thinking rightly, the worst death, amid specious shows, bound with iron, put to death as one undone.” Then after these verses of Apollo, which, translated into Latin, do not stand in meter, he subjoined and said: “In these indeed he manifested the irremediable character of their sentence, saying that the Jews receive God rather than these.” Behold where, discoloring Christ, he set the Jews before the Christians, confessing that the Jews receive God. For thus he expounded the verses of Apollo, where he says that Christ was slain by judges thinking rightly, as though, with them judging justly, he were deservedly punished.
Let them see what the mendacious vates of Apollo said about Christ and what that fellow believed, or perhaps that this very man himself fabricated that the vates said what he did not say. How consistent he is with himself, or even makes the oracles themselves convene with one another, we shall see afterward; here, however, he says that the Jews, as receivers of God, judged rightly concerning Christ, because they thought that he ought to be excruciated with a most wicked death. Therefore the God of the Jews, to whom he bears testimony, ought to have been listened to, saying: He who sacrifices to the gods shall be eradicated, unless to the Lord only.
Sed let us come to more manifest things and let us hear how great a God he says the Jews have. Likewise to those matters he asked Apollo—what is better, the word or reason, or the law: “He replied,” he says, “saying these things in verses.” And then he appends Apollo’s verses, among which are these, so that I may pluck out as much as is sufficient from there: “Unto God indeed,” he says, “the Generator and as King before all things, whom both heaven and earth and the sea tremble at, and the hidden places of the lower regions, and even the divinities themselves shudder; of whom the Father is law, whom the very holy Hebrews greatly honor.” By such an oracle of his god Apollo Porphyry said that the God of the Hebrews is so great that even the divinities themselves shudder at him. Since therefore this God has said: “He who sacrifices to gods shall be eradicated,” I marvel that Porphyry himself did not shudder and did not fear to be eradicated, though sacrificing to gods.
Dicit etiam bona philosophus iste de Christo, quasi oblitus illius , de qua paulo ante locuti sumus, contumeliae suae, aut quasi in somnis dii eius maledixerint Christo et euigilantes eum bonum esse cognouerint digneque laudauerint. Denique tamquam mirabile aliquid atque incredibile prolaturus: "Praeter opinionem, inquit, profecto quibusdam uideatur esse quod dicturi sumus. Christum enim dii piissimum pronuntiauerunt et inmortalem factum et cum bona praedicatione eius meminerunt; Christianos uero pollutos, inquit, et contaminatos et errore implicatos esse dicunt et multis talibus aduersus eos blasphemiis utuntur." Deinde subicit uelut oracula deorum blasphemantium Christianos et post haec: De Christo autem, inquit, interrogantibus si est Deus, ait Hecate: "Quoniam quidem inmortalis anima post corpus [ut] incedit, nosti; a sapientia autem abscisa semper errat.
This philosopher also says good things about Christ, as if forgetful of that insult of his, about which we spoke a little before, or as if in dreams his gods had cursed Christ and, waking, had come to know that he is good and had praised him worthily. Finally, as though about to bring forth something marvelous and incredible: "Contrary to expectation, he says, what we are about to say will surely seem so to some. For the gods pronounced Christ most pious and made immortal and remembered him with good proclamation; but the Christians, he says, they say are defiled and contaminated and entangled in error, and they use many such blasphemies against them." Then he subjoins, as it were, the oracles of the gods blaspheming the Christians, and after these: But about Christ, he says, to those asking if he is God, Hecate says: "Since indeed the immortal soul goes after the body [as], you know; but, cut off from wisdom, it always errs."
“Of a man most preeminent in piety is that soul; this they worship with a verity alien from themselves.” Then, after the words of this as it were oracle, weaving in his own: “Therefore,” he says, “she called him a most pious man, and said that his soul, as also those of other pious men, after death was deemed worthy of immortality, and that the Christians, being ignorant, worship this.” “But when they asked,” he says, “Why then was he condemned? the goddess answered by oracle: The body indeed is always exposed to debilitating torments; but the soul of the pious sits upon a heavenly seat. That soul, however, has by fate been given over to other souls, for whom the fates did not assent to obtain the gifts of the gods nor to have the recognition of immortal Jove, to be implicated in error.”
Therefore, then, hated by the gods, because for those for whom by fate it was not to know God nor to receive gifts from the gods, to these this man has fatally given to be entangled in error. He himself, however, pious, has departed to heaven, as the pious do. And so him indeed you will not blaspheme, but you will pity the madness of men; from this there is in them an easy and headlong peril."
Quis ita stultus est, ut non intellegat aut ab homine callido eoque Christianis inimicissimo haec oracula fuisse conficta aut consilio simili ab inpuris daemonibus ista fuisse responsa, ut scilicet, quoniam laudant Christum, propterea credantur ueraciter uituperare Christianos atque ita, si possint, intercludant uiam salutis aeternae, in qua fit quisque Christianus? Suae quippe nocendi astutiae milleformi sentiunt non esse contrarium, si credatur eis laudantibus Christum, dum tamen credatur etiam uituperantibus Christianos; ut eum, qui utrumque crediderit, talem Christi faciant laudatorem, ne uelit esse Christianus, ac sic quamuis ab illo laudatus ab istorum tamen daemonum dominatu eum non liberet Christus; praesertim quia ita laudant Christum, ut, quisquis in eum talem crediderit, qualis ab eis praedicatur, Christianus uerus non sit, sed Photinianus haereticus, qui tantummodo hominem, non etiam Deum nouerit Christum, et ideo per eum saluus esse non possit nec istorum mendaciloquorum daemonum laqueos uitare uel soluere. Nos autem neque Apollinem uituperantem Christum neque Hecaten possumus adprobare laudantem.
Who is so foolish as not to understand either that by a crafty man and one most hostile to Christians these oracles were fabricated, or that by a similar plan these responses were given by impure daemons—namely, that, since they praise Christ, on that account they may be believed to speak truly when they vituperate Christians, and thus, if they can, block the way of eternal salvation, in which a person becomes a Christian? For they perceive that to their thousand‑formed craft of harming it is not contrary, if it be believed them when they praise Christ, provided it be believed them also when they blame Christians; so that him who has believed both they make such a praiser of Christ as not to will to be a Christian, and thus, although praised by him, Christ does not free him from the dominion of those daemons; especially because they so praise Christ that whoever believes in him to be such as he is proclaimed by them is not a true Christian, but a Photinian heretic, who has known Christ to be only a man, not also God, and therefore cannot be saved through him nor avoid or loosen the snares of those mendaciloquent daemons. But we can approve neither Apollo vituperating Christ nor Hecate praising.
For that one indeed wants Christ to be believed as iniquitous, whom he says was slain by judges thinking rightly; this one a most pious man, but a man only. Yet the intention of both that one and this one is one and the same: that they do not want men to be Christians, because, unless they will be Christians, they will not be able to be rescued from their power. But this philosopher—or rather those who believe such things against Christians as if they were oracles—let them first bring it about, if they can, that Hecate and Apollo agree among themselves about Christ himself, and that both either condemn him or both praise him in concert.
If they had been able to do this, nonetheless we would avoid the fallacious demons, both vituperators and laudators of Christ. But since their god and goddess disagree among themselves about Christ—he by vituperating, she by lauding—indeed, when they blaspheme Christians, people do not believe them, if they themselves think rightly.
Sane Christum laudans uel Porphyrius uel Hecate, cum dicat eum ipsum fataliter dedisse Christianis, ut implicarentur errore, causas tamen eiusdem, sicut putat, pandit erroris. Quas antequam ex uerbis eius exponam, prius quaero, si fataliter dedit Christus Christianis erroris implicationem, utrum uolens an nolens dederit. Si uolens, quo modo iustus?
Indeed, whether Porphyry or Hecate, praising Christ, when saying that he himself, by fate, gave to the Christians that they might be entangled in error, nevertheless lays open, as he supposes, the causes of that same error. Which, before I set forth from that one’s words, I first ask: if Christ, by fate, gave to Christians an entanglement in error, whether he gave it willingly or unwillingly. If willingly, how is he just?
By these the wise men of the Hebrews (of whom this Jesus too was one, as you have heard from the divine oracles of Apollo, as was said above) — by these, therefore, the Hebrews forbade the religious and prohibited them to devote themselves to the worst demons and to lesser spirits; but to venerate rather the celestial gods, and to venerate still more God the Father. And this, he says, both the gods prescribe, and we have shown above in what way they admonish one to advert the mind to God and everywhere command to worship him. But the unlearned and of impious nature, to whom truly fate did not grant to obtain gifts from the gods nor to have a notion of immortal Jove, not listening both to the gods and to the divine men, the gods indeed they refused all, but as for the forbidden demons, not even these did they hate, but revere them.
But while pretending to worship God, they do not do the very things by which God is adored. For God indeed, as the Father of all, has need of nothing; but it is well for us when we adore him through justice and chastity and other virtues, making life itself a prayer to him through imitation and inquisition concerning him. "For inquisition purges, he says; imitation deifies, by acting the affection toward him." He indeed preached well God the Father, and said with what morals he ought to be worshiped; with which precepts the prophetic books of the Hebrews are full, whenever the life of the saints is either commanded or praised.
But only in regard to Christians does he err, or only so far does he calumniate, as the demons wish—those whom he supposes to be gods; as if it were difficult for anyone to recall what shameful, what disgraceful things, with respect to the service of the gods, were enacted in the theaters and temples, and to attend to what is read, said, and heard in the churches, or what is offered to the true God, and from this to understand where the edification, and where the ruin, of morals is. And who told or inspired him, if not a diabolic spirit, with so vain and open a lie, that the demons, prohibited by the Hebrews from being worshiped, are rather reverenced than hated by Christians? But that God whom the wise men of the Hebrews worshiped forbids sacrifice to be offered even to the celestial holy angels and the powers of God—whom, most blessed, we venerate and love as fellow-citizens in this our mortal pilgrimage—thundering in his Law, which he gave to his Hebrew people, and very menacingly saying: “He who sacrifices to gods shall be rooted out.”
And lest anyone should think that there is a precept that sacrifice not be offered to the worst daemons and terrestrial spirits, whom this man calls the least or lesser (since they too in the sacred Scriptures are called gods, not of the Hebrews but of the nations; which the Seventy interpreters have plainly set in the Psalm, saying: Because <omnes> the gods of the nations are daemons), — lest, therefore, anyone should think that sacrifice is indeed prohibited to these daemons, but permitted to the celestial beings, either to all or to some, he immediately added: Except to the Lord alone, that is, except to the Lord only; lest perhaps, in that he says: to the Lord alone, someone should believe the Lord to be the sun, to whom he might think sacrifice ought to be offered; which is most easily found in the Greek Scriptures not to be so understood.
Deus igitur Hebraeorum, cui tam magnum tantus etiam iste philosophus perhibet testimonium, legem dedit Hebraeo populo suo, Hebraeo sermone conscriptam, non obscuram et incognitam, sed omnibus iam gentibus diffamatam, in qua lege scriptum est: Sacrificans diis eradicabitur nisi Domino tantum. Quid opus est in hac eius lege ei usque prophetis de hac re multa perquirere; immo non perquirere, non enim abstrusa uel rara sunt, sed aperta et crebra colligere et in hac disputatione mea ponere, quibus luce clarius apparet nulli omnino nisi tantum sibi Deum uerum et summum uoluisse sacrificari? Ecce hoc unum breuiter, immo granditer, minaciter, sed ueraciter dictum ab illo Deo, quem tam excellenter eorum doctissimi praedicant, audiatur timeatur impleatur, ne inoboedientes eradicatio consequatur.
Therefore the God of the Hebrews, to whom so great a philosopher as this man also bears so great a testimony, gave a law to his Hebrew people, written in the Hebrew tongue—not obscure and unknown, but now spread abroad among all nations—in which law it is written: He who sacrifices to gods shall be eradicated, unless to the Lord only. What need is there, in this his law and even in the prophets, to search out many things on this matter; rather, not to search them out—for they are not hidden or rare—but to gather the open and frequent statements and set them forth in this my disputation, by which it appears clearer than light that he willed that sacrifice be offered to no one at all save only to himself, the true and highest God? Behold, let this one point—brief indeed, nay, grand, menacing, yet true—said by that God whom their most learned proclaim so excellently, be heard, be feared, be fulfilled, lest eradication overtake the disobedient.
“The one sacrificing,” he says, “to gods will be eradicated unless to the Lord only; not because He is in need of any thing, but because it is expedient for us that we be His property. For to Him it is sung in the sacred letters of the Hebrews: I said to the Lord; You are my God, since you have no need of my goods. But His most illustrious and best sacrifice is we Ourselves, that is, His city, the mystery of which thing we celebrate by our oblations, which are known to the faithful, as we have disputed in the preceding books.”
For the divine oracles through the Hebrew prophets thundered that the victims would cease, which the Jews were offering in the shadow of the future, and that the nations from the rising of the sun unto the setting would offer one sacrifice, as we already perceive to be happening; of which, as much as seemed sufficient, we have produced some and have sprinkled them upon this work as well. Wherefore, where that justice is not—namely, that according to His grace the one and highest God command the obedient City, that it sacrifice to no one except only to Himself, and through this that in all human beings who pertain to the same City and are obedient to God the spirit also faithfully command the body, and reason command the vices, in legitimate order; that, just as a single just man, so the company and people of the just may live by faith, which works through dilection, whereby a human loves God as God ought to be loved, and his neighbor as himself,—where therefore that justice is not, assuredly there is not an assembly of human beings associated by an agreement of right and a communion of utility. And if that is not, certainly there is not a people, if this definition of a people is true.
[XXIV] Si autem populus non isto, sed alio definiatur modo, uelut si dicatur; "Populus est coetus multitudinis rationalis rerum quas diligit concordi communione sociatus", profecto, ut uideatur qualis quisque populus sit, illa sunt intuenda, quae diligit. Quaecumque tamen diligat, si coetus est multitudinis non pecorum, sed rationalium creaturarum et eorum quae diligit concordi communione sociatus est, non absurde populus nuncupatur; tanto utique melior, quanto in melioribus, tantoque deterior, quanto est in deterioribus concors. Secundum istam definitionem nostram Romanus populus populus est et res eius sine dubitatione res publica.
[24] But if a people be defined not in this way, but in another, as if it be said; "A people is an assemblage of a rational multitude associated by concordant communion in the things which it loves", assuredly, in order that it may be seen what sort of people each is, those things are to be looked at which it loves. Whatever, however, it may love, if it is an assemblage of a multitude not of cattle, but of rational creatures, and is associated by concordant communion of the things which it loves, it is not absurdly called a people; so much the better, of course, the more it is concordant in better things, and so much the worse, the more it is concordant in worse things. According to this our definition, the Roman people is a people, and its affair is without doubt a commonwealth.
But what in its first times and in the subsequent ones that people loved, and by what morals, coming to the most blood-stained seditions and thence to social and civil wars, it broke and corrupted that very concord which is in a certain manner the salvation of the people, history testifies; about which in the preceding books we have set down many things. Nor for that reason would I say either that it itself was not a people or that its affair was not a republic, so long as there remains some kind of coetus of a rational multitude, associated by concordant communion in the things it loves. And what I have said about that people and that republic, let me be understood to have said and thought this about the Athenians or about whatever Greeks, about the Egyptians, about that earlier Babylon of the Assyrians, when in their republics they held dominions either small or great, and about any other of the other nations.
[XXV] Quamlibet enim uideatur animus corpori et ratio uitiis laudabiliter imperare, si Deo animus et ratio ipsa non seruit, sicut sibi esse seruiendum ipse Deus praecepit, nullo modo corpori uitiisque recte imperat. Nam qualis corporis atque uitiorum potest esse mens domina ueri Dei nescia nec eius imperio subiugata, sed uitiosissimis daemonibus corrumpentibus prostituta? Proinde uirtutes, quas habere sibi uidetur, per quas imperat corpori et uitiis, ad quodlibet adipiscendum uel tenendum rettulerit nisi ad Deum, etiam ipsae uitia sunt potius quam uirtutes.
[25] For however much the mind may seem laudably to command the body and reason to command the vices, if the mind and reason themselves do not serve God, as God himself has commanded that he is to be served, in no way do they rightly command the body and the vices. For what kind of mistress of the body and of vices can the mind be, ignorant of the true God and not subjugated to his command, but prostituted to the most vicious demons corrupting it? Accordingly, the virtues which it seems to itself to have, by which it commands the body and the vices, if it has referred them to the attaining or the holding of anything whatsoever except to God, these themselves are rather vices than virtues.
For although by some at such a time the virtues are thought to be true and honorable, when they are referred to themselves and are sought not on account of anything else: even then they are puffed‑up and proud, therefore they are to be judged not virtues but vices. For just as that which makes the flesh live is not from the flesh but above the flesh: so that which makes a human live beatifically is not from man but above man; and not only man, but even any celestial power and virtue.
[XXVI] Quocirca ut uita carnis anima est, ita beata uita hominis Deus est, de quo dicunt sacrae litterae Hebraeorum: Beatus populus, cuius est Dominus Deus ipsius. Miser igitur populus ab isto alienatus Deo. Diligit tamen etiam ipse quandam pacem suam non inprobandam, quam quidem non habebit in fine, quia non ea bene utitur ante finem.
[26] Wherefore, as the life of the flesh is the soul, so the blessed life of the human is God, of whom the sacred letters of the Hebrews say: “Blessed is the people whose Lord is their God.” Wretched, therefore, is the people alienated from this God. Yet even it loves a certain peace of its own, not to be disapproved, which indeed it will not have in the end, because it does not use it well before the end.
But that he may meanwhile have this in this life, this also is of concern to us; since, so long as both cities are intermixed, we too make use of the peace of Babylon; from which the people of God is thus freed by faith that it meanwhile sojourns as a pilgrim among it. Wherefore also the apostle admonished the Church to pray for its kings and the exalted, adding and saying: “That we may lead a quiet and tranquil life with all piety and charity,” and the prophet Jeremiah, when he foretold the captivity to the ancient people of God and by divine command ordered that they should go obediently into Babylon, serving their God even by this patience, he too admonished that prayer be made for it, saying: “Because in her peace is your peace,” assuredly meanwhile a temporal one, which is common to good and evil alike.
[XXVII] Pax autem nostra propria et hic est cum Deo per fidem et in aeternum erit cum illo per speciem. Sed hic siue illa communis siue nostra propria talis est pax, ut solacium miseriae sit potius quam beatitudinis gaudium. Ipsa quoque nostra iustitia, quamuis uera sit propter uerum boni finem, ad quem refertur, tamen tanta est in hac uita, ut potius remissione peccatorum constet quam perfectione uirtutum.
[XXVII] Our own proper peace both here is with God through faith, and forever it will be with Him by sight. But here, whether that common peace or our proper one, such is the peace, that it is rather a solace of misery than a joy of beatitude. Our very justice also, although it is true on account of the true end of the good to which it is referred, yet is such in this life that it consists rather in the remission of sins than in the perfection of virtues.
Witness is the prayer of the whole City of God, which peregrinates upon the earth. Through all its members it cries to God: “Forgive us our debts, as we also forgive our debtors.” Nor is this prayer efficacious for those whose faith without works is dead; but for those whose faith works through love.
Because, although reason, being indeed subject to God, yet in this mortal condition and with a corruptible body, which aggravates the soul, does not perfectly command the vices, therefore such a prayer is necessary for the just. For assuredly, although command is exercised, it is by no means exercised over vices without conflict; and certainly something of weakness creeps in at this point even for one fighting well, or for one dominating with such enemies conquered and subjected—whence, if not by easy operation, surely by slippery locution or volatile cogitation one may sin. And therefore, so long as the vices are being commanded, there is not full peace, because both those that resist are fought down in a perilous battle, and those that have been conquered are not yet triumphantly enjoyed in secure leisure, but are still pressed by an anxious rule.
In these temptations, therefore, about all of which in the divine oracles it has been briefly said: ‘Is not the life of man a temptation upon the earth?’ who would presume to live so as to have no need to say to God, ‘Forgive us our debts,’ except an elated man? and indeed not great, but inflated and tumid—one to whom He resists by justice, He who bestows grace upon the humble.
Wherefore it is written: God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble. Here, therefore, justice in each one is this: that God command the obedient man, the mind the body, and that reason, even with the vices resisting, command them, either by subduing or by resisting; and that from God himself both the grace of merits and the pardon of delicts be asked, and for goods received the giving of thanks be rendered. But in that final peace, to which this justice must be referred and for the sake of the attaining of which it must be held, since nature, healed by immortality and incorruption, will not have vices, nor will anything resist any one of us either from another or from himself, there will be no need that reason command vices, which will not exist; but God will command man, the mind the body, and there will be there a sweetness and facility of obeying as great as the felicity of living and reigning.
[XXVIII] Eorum autem, qui non pertinent ad istam ciuitatem Dei, erit e contrario miseria sempiterna, quae mors etiam secunda dicitur, quia nec anima ibi uiuere dicenda est, quae a uita Dei alienata erit, nec corpus, quod aeternis doloribus subiacebit; ac per hoc ideo durior ista secunda mors erit, quia finiri morte non poterit. Sed quoniam sicut miseria beatitudini et mors uitae, ita bellum paci uidetur esse contrarium: merito quaeritur, sicut pax in bonorum finibus praedicata est atque laudata, quod uel quale bellum e contrario in finibus malorum possit intellegi. Verum qui hoc quaerit, adtendat quid in bello noxium perniciosumque sit, et uidebit nihil aliud quam rerum esse inter se aduersitatem atque conflictum.
[28] But for those who do not pertain to that city of God there will, on the contrary, be sempiternal misery, which is also called the second death, because neither will the soul there be said to live, which will be alienated from the life of God, nor the body, which will lie subject to eternal pains; and therefore, on that account, this second death will be the harsher, because it will not be able to be ended by death. But since, as misery is to beatitude and death to life, so war seems to be contrary to peace, it is rightly asked, just as peace has been proclaimed and praised within the bounds of the good, what, or of what sort, war conversely within the bounds of the evil can be understood. Yet whoever seeks this, let him attend to what in war is noxious and pernicious, and he will see that it is nothing other than an adverseness and a conflict of things among themselves.
What war, then, can be thought more grave and more bitter than where the will is thus adverse to passion and passion to the will, so that by the victory of neither are such enmities brought to an end, and where the force of pain thus clashes with the very nature of the body, so that neither yields to the other? For here, when this conflict occurs, either pain conquers and death takes away sensation, or nature conquers and health removes the pain. There, however, both pain remains to afflict, and nature endures to feel; because each for this very reason does not fail, lest the punishment fail.