What the Christians Believe Regarding the Supreme Good and Evil, in Opposition to the Philosophers, Who Have Maintained that the Supreme Good is in Themselves.

Chapter 4.—What the Christians Believe Regarding the Supreme Good and Evil, in Opposition to the Philosophers, Who Have Maintained that the Supreme Good is in Themselves.

Caput IV. De summo bono et summo malo quid Christiani sentiant contra philosophos, qui summum bonum in se sibi esse dixerunt.

If, then, we be asked what the city of God has to say upon these points, and, in the first place, what its opinion regarding the supreme good and evil is, it will reply that life eternal is the supreme good, death eternal the supreme evil, and that to obtain the one and escape the other we must live rightly. And thus it is written, “The just lives by faith,” for we do not as yet see our good, and must therefore live by faith; neither have we in ourselves power to live rightly, but can do so only if He who has given us faith to believe in His help do help us when we believe and pray. As for those who have supposed that the sovereign good and evil are to be found in this life, and have placed it either in the soul or the body, or in both, or, to speak more explicitly, either in pleasure or in virtue, or in both; in repose or in virtue, or in both; in pleasure and repose, or in virtue, or in all combined; in the primary objects of nature, or in virtue, or in both,—all these have, with a marvelous shallowness, sought to find their blessedness in this life and in themselves. Contempt has been poured upon such ideas by the Truth, saying by the prophet, “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men” (or, as the Apostle Paul cites the passage, “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise”) “that they are vain.”

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, adque, 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 beati fieri mira uanitate uoluerunt. Inrisit hos Veritas per prophetam dicentem: Dominus nouit cogita. tiones hominum uel, sicut hoc testimonium posuit apostolus Paulus: Dominus nouit cogitationes sapientium, quoniam uanae sunt.

For what flood of eloquence can suffice to detail the miseries of this life? Cicero, in the Consolation on the death of his daughter, has spent all his ability in lamentation; but how inadequate was even his ability here? For when, where, how, in this life can these primary objects of nature be possessed so that they may not be assailed by unforeseen accidents? Is the body of the wise man exempt from any pain which may dispel pleasure, from any disquietude which may banish repose? The amputation or decay of the members of the body puts an end to its integrity, deformity blights its beauty, weakness its health, lassitude its vigor, sleepiness or sluggishness its activity,—and which of these is it that may not assail the flesh of the wise man? Comely and fitting attitudes and movements of the body are numbered among the prime natural blessings; but what if some sickness makes the members tremble? what if a man suffers from curvature of the spine to such an extent that his hands reach the ground, and he goes upon all-fours like a quadruped? Does not this destroy all beauty and grace in the body, whether at rest or in motion? What shall I say of the fundamental blessings of the soul, sense and intellect, of which the one is given for the perception, and the other for the comprehension of truth? But what kind of sense is it that remains when a man becomes deaf and blind? where are reason and intellect when disease makes a man delirious? We can scarcely, or not at all, refrain from tears, when we think of or see the actions and words of such frantic persons, and consider how different from and even opposed to their own sober judgment and ordinary conduct their present demeanor is. And what shall I say of those who suffer from demoniacal possession? Where is their own intelligence hidden and buried while the malignant spirit is using their body and soul according to his own will? And who is quite sure that no such thing can happen to the wise man in this life? Then, as to the perception of truth, what can we hope for even in this way while in the body, as we read in the true book of Wisdom, “The corruptible body weigheth down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle presseth down the mind that museth upon many things?” And eagerness, or desire of action, if this is the right meaning to put upon the Greek ὁρμη, is also reckoned among the primary advantages of nature; and yet is it not this which produces those pitiable movements of the insane, and those actions which we shudder to see, when sense is deceived and reason deranged?

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? Quis enim dolor contrarius uoluptati, quae inquietudo contraria quieti in corpus cadere sapientis non potest? Membrorum certe amputatio uel debilitas hominis expugnat incolumitatem, deformitas pulchritudinem, inbecillitas sanitatem, uires lassitudo, mobilitatem torpor aut tarditas; et quid horum est, quod nequeat in carnem sapientis inruere? Status quoque corporis adque motus, cum decentes et congruentes sunt, inter naturae prima numerantur; sed quid si aliqua mala ualetudo membra tremore concutiat? quid si usque ad ponendas in terra manus dorsi spina curuetur et hominem quodam modo quadrupedem faciat? Nonne omnem statuendi corporis et mouendi speciem decusque peruertet? Quid ipsius animi primigenia quae appellantur bona, ubi duo prima ponunt propter conprehensionem perceptionemque ueritatis sensum et intellectum? Sed qualis quantusque remanet sensus, si, ut alia taceam, fiat homo surdus et caecus? Ratio uero et intellegentia quo recedet, ubi sopietur, si aliquo morbo efficiatur insanus? Phrenetici multa absurda cum dicunt uel faciunt, plerumque a bono suo proposito et moribus aliena, immo suo bono proposito moribusque contraria, siue illa cogitemus siue uideamus, si digne consideremus, lacrimas tenere uix possumus aut forte nec possumus. Quid dicam de his, qui daemonum patiuntur incursus? Ubi habent absconditam uel obrutam intellegentiam suam, quando secundum suam uoluntatem et anima eorum et corpore malignus utitur spiritus? Et quis confidit hoc,. malum in hac uita euenire non posse sapienti? Deinde perceptio ueritatis in hac carne qualis aut quanta est, quando. sicut legimus in ueraci libro sapientiae, corpus corruptibile adgrauat animam et deprimit terrena inhabitatio sensum multa cogitantem?

In fine, virtue itself, which is not among the primary objects of nature, but succeeds to them as the result of learning, though it holds the highest place among human good things, what is its occupation save to wage perpetual war with vices,—not those that are outside of us, but within; not other men’s, but our own,—a war which is waged especially by that virtue which the Greeks call σωφροσυνη, and we temperance, and which bridles carnal lusts, and prevents them from winning the consent of the spirit to wicked deeds? For we must not fancy that there is no vice in us, when, as the apostle says, “The flesh lusteth against the spirit;” for to this vice there is a contrary virtue, when, as the same writer says, “The spirit lusteth against the flesh.” “For these two,” he says, “are contrary one to the other, so that you cannot do the things which you would.” But what is it we wish to do when we seek to attain the supreme good, unless that the flesh should cease to lust against the spirit, and that there be no vice in us against which the spirit may lust? And as we cannot attain to this in the present life, however ardently we desire it, let us by God’s help accomplish at least this, to preserve the soul from succumbing and yielding to the flesh that lusts against it, and to refuse our consent to the perpetration of sin. Far be it from us, then, to fancy that while we are still engaged in this intestine war, we have already found the happiness which we seek to reach by victory. And who is there so wise that he has no conflict at all to maintain against his vices?

Inpetus porro uel adpetitus actionis, si hoc modo recte Latine appellatur ea, quam Graeci uocant oppjv, quia et ipsam primis naturae deputant bonis, nonne ipse est, quo geruntur etiam insanorum illi miserabiles motus et facta, quae horremus, quando peruertitur sensus ratioque sopitur? 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 ococpoaovirj, Latine temperantia nominatur, qua carnales frenantur libidines, ne in quaeque flagitia mentem consen tientem trahant? Neque enim nullum est uitium, cum, sicut dicit apostolus, caro concupiscit aduersus spiritum; cui uitio contraria uirtus est, cum, sicut idem dicit, spiritus. concupiscit aduersus carnem. Haec enim, inquit, inuicem aduersantur, ut non ea quae uultis faciatis. Quid autem facere uolumus, cum perfici uolumus fine summi boni, nisi ut caro aduersus spiritum non concupiscat, nec sit in nobis hoc uitium, contra quod spiritus concupiscat? Quod in hac uita, quamuis uelimus, quoniam facere non ualemus, id saltem in adiutorio Dei facimus, ne carni concupiscenti aduersus spiritum spiritu succumbente cedamus et ad perpetrandum peccatum nostra consensione pertrahamur. Absit ergo ut, quamdiu in hoc bello intestino sumus, iam nos beatitudinem, ad quam uincendo uolumus peruenire, adeptos esse credamus.

What shall I say of that virtue which is called prudence? Is not all its vigilance spent in the discernment of good from evil things, so that no mistake may be admitted about what we should desire and what avoid? And thus it is itself a proof that we are in the midst of evils, or that evils are in us; for it teaches us that it is an evil to consent to sin, and a good to refuse this consent. And yet this evil, to which prudence teaches and temperance enables us not to consent, is removed from this life neither by prudence nor by temperance. And justice, whose office it is to render to every man his due, whereby there is in man himself a certain just order of nature, so that the soul is subjected to God, and the flesh to the soul, and consequently both soul and flesh to God,—does not this virtue demonstrate that it is as yet rather laboring towards its end than resting in its finished work? For the soul is so much the less subjected to God as it is less occupied with the thought of God; and the flesh is so much the less subjected to the spirit as it lusts more vehemently against the spirit. So long, therefore, as we are beset by this weakness, this plague, this disease, how shall we dare to say that we are safe? and if not safe, then how can we be already enjoying our final beatitude? Then that virtue which goes by the name of fortitude is the plainest proof of the ills of life, for it is these ills which it is compelled to bear patiently. And this holds good, no matter though the ripest wisdom co-exists with it. And I am at a loss to understand how the Stoic philosophers can presume to say that these are no ills, though at the same time they allow the wise man to commit suicide and pass out of this life if they become so grievous that he cannot or ought not to endure them. But such is the stupid pride of these men who fancy that the supreme good can be found in this life, and that they can become happy by their own resources, that their wise man, or at least the man whom they fancifully depict as such, is always happy, even though he become blind, deaf, dumb, mutilated, racked with pains, or suffer any conceivable calamity such as may compel him to make away with himself; and they are not ashamed to call the life that is beset with these evils happy. O happy life, which seeks the aid of death to end it? If it is happy, let the wise man remain in it; but if these ills drive him out of it, in what sense is it happy? Or how can they say that these are not evils which conquer the virtue of fortitude, and force it not only to yield, but so to rave that it in one breath calls life happy and recommends it to be given up? For who is so blind as not to see that if it were happy it would not be fled from? And if they say we should flee from it on account of the infirmities that beset it, why then do they not lower their pride and acknowledge that it is miserable? Was it, I would ask, fortitude or weakness which prompted Cato to kill himself? for he would not have done so had he not been too weak to endure Cæsar’s victory. Where, then, is his fortitude? It has yielded, it has succumbed, it has been so thoroughly overcome as to abandon, forsake, flee this happy life. Or was it no longer happy? Then it was miserable. How, then, were these not evils which made life miserable, and a thing to be escaped from?

Et quis est usque adeo sapiens, ut contra libidines nullum habeat omnino conflictum? Quid illa uirtus, quae prudentia dicitur, nonne tota uigilantia sua bona discernit a malis, ut in illis adpetendis 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 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? Tanto minus quippe anima subditur Deo, quanto minus Deum in ipsis suis cogitationibus concipit; et tanto minus animae subditur caro, quanto magis aduersus spiritum concupiscit. Quamdiu ergo nobis inest haec infirmitas, haec pestis, hic languor, quo modo nos iam saluos, et si nondum saluos, quo modo iam beatos illa finali beatitudine dicere audebimus? Iam uero illa uirtus, cuius nomen est fortitudo, in quantacumque sapientia euidentissima testis est humanorum malorum, quae conpellitur patientia tolerare. Quae mala Stoici philosophi miror qua fronte mala non esse contendant, quibus fatentur, si tanta fuerint, ut ea sapiens uel non possit uel non debeat sustinere, cogi eum mortem sibimet inferre adque ex hac uita emigrare. Tantus autem superbiae stupor est in his hominibus hic se habere finem boni et a se ipsis fieri beatos putantibus, ut sapiens eorum, hoc est, qualem mirabili uanitate describunt, etiamsi excaecetur obsurdescat obmutescat, membris debilitetur doloribus crucietur et, si quid aliud talium malorum dici aut cogitari potest, incidat in eum, quo sibi mortem cogatur inferre, hanc in his malis uitam constitutam eum non pudeat beatam uocare.s o uitam beatam, quae ut finiatur mortis quaerit auxilium! Si beata est, maneatur in ea. Quo modo ista non sunt mala, quae uincunt fortitudinis bonum eandemque fortitudinem non solum sibi cedere, uerum etiam delirare conpellunt, ut eandem uitam et dicat beatam et persuadeat esse fugiendam? Quis usque adeo caecus est, ut non uideat, quod, si beata esset, fugienda non esset? Sed aperta infirmitatis uoce fugiendam fatentur. Quid igitur causae est, quur non etiam miseram fracta superbiae ceruice fateantur? Utrum, obsecro, Cato ille patientia an potius inpatientia se peremit? Non enim hoc fecisset, nisi uictoriam Caesaris inpatienter tulisset. Ubi est fortitudo? Nempe cessit, nempe succubuit, nempe usque adeo superata est, ut uitam beatam derelinqueret desereret fugeret. An non erat iam beata? Misera ergo erat. Quo modo igitur mala non erant, quae uitam miseram fugiendamque faciebant?

And therefore those who admit that these are evils, as the Peripatetics do, and the Old Academy, the sect which Varro advocates, express a more intelligible doctrine; but theirs also is a surprising mistake, for they contend that this is a happy life which is beset by these evils, even though they be so great that he who endures them should commit suicide to escape them. “Pains and anguish of body,” says Varro, “are evils, and so much the worse in proportion to their severity; and to escape them you must quit this life.” What life, I pray? This life, he says, which is oppressed by such evils. Then it is happy in the midst of these very evils on account of which you say we must quit it? Or do you call it happy because you are at liberty to escape these evils by death? What, then, if by some secret judgment of God you were held fast and not permitted to die, nor suffered to live without these evils? In that case, at least, you would say that such a life was miserable. It is soon relinquished, no doubt but this does not make it not miserable; for were it eternal, you yourself would pronounce it miserable. Its brevity, therefore, does not clear it of misery; neither ought it to be called happiness because it is a brief misery. Certainly there is a mighty force in these evils which compel a man—according to them even a wise man—to cease to be a man that he may escape them, though they say, and say truly, that it is as it were the first and strongest demand of nature that a man cherish himself, and naturally therefore avoid death, and should so stand his own friend as to wish and vehemently aim at continuing to exist as a living creature, and subsisting in this union of soul and body. There is a mighty force in these evils to overcome this natural instinct by which death is by every means and with all a man’s efforts avoided, and to overcome it so completely that what was avoided is desired, sought after, and if it cannot in any other way be obtained, is inflicted by the man on himself. There is a mighty force in these evils which make fortitude a homicide,—if, indeed, that is to be called fortitude which is so thoroughly overcome by these evils, that it not only cannot preserve by patience the man whom it undertook to govern and defend, but is itself obliged to kill him. The wise man, I admit, ought to bear death with patience, but when it is inflicted by another. If, then, as these men maintain, he is obliged to inflict it on himself, certainly it must be owned that the ills which compel him to this are not only evils, but intolerable evils. The life, then, which is either subject to accidents, or environed with evils so considerable and grievous, could never have been called happy, if the men who give it this name had condescended to yield to the truth, and to be conquered by valid arguments, when they inquired after the happy life, as they yield to unhappiness, and are overcome by overwhelming evils, when they put themselves to death, and if they had not fancied that the supreme good was to be found in this mortal life; for the very virtues of this life, which are certainly its best and most useful possessions, are all the more telling proofs of its miseries in proportion as they are helpful against the violence of its dangers, toils, and woes. For if these are true virtues,—and such cannot exist save in those who have true piety,—they do not profess to be able to deliver the men who possess them from all miseries; for true virtues tell no such lies, but they profess that by the hope of the future world this life, which is miserably involved in the many and great evils of this world, is happy as it is also safe. For if not yet safe, how could it be happy? And therefore the Apostle Paul, speaking not of men without prudence, temperance, fortitude, and justice, but of those whose lives were regulated by true piety, and whose virtues were therefore true, says, “For we are saved by hope: now hope which is seen is not hope; for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for? But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.” As, therefore, we are saved, so we are made happy by hope. And as we do not as yet possess a present, but look for a future salvation, so is it with our happiness, and this “with patience;” for we are encompassed with evils, which we ought patiently to endure, until we come to the ineffable enjoyment of unmixed good; for there shall be no longer anything to endure. Salvation, such as it shall be in the world to come, shall itself be our final happiness. And this happiness these philosophers refuse to believe in, because they do not see it, and attempt to fabricate for themselves a happiness in this life, based upon a virtue which is as deceitful as it is proud.

Quaproptu etiam ipsi, qui mala ista esse confessi sunt, sicut Peripatetici, sicut ueteres Academici, quorum sectam VaiTO 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 adque 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? An ideo beatam dicis, quia licet tibi ab his malis morte discedere? Quid si ergo in eis aliquo diuino iudicio tenereris nec permittereris mori nec umquam sine illis esse sinereris? Nempe tunc saltem miseram talem diceres uitam. Non igitur propterea misera non est, quia cito relinquitur. Quando quidem si sempiterna sit, etiam abs te ipso misera iudicatur; non itaque propterea, quoniam breuis est, nulla miseria debet uideri aut, quod est absurdius, quia breuis miseria est, ideo etiam beatitudo appellari. Magna uis est in eis malis, quae cogunt hominem secundum ipsos etiam sapientem sibimet auferre quod homo est; cum dicant et uerum dicant, hanc esse naturae primam quodam modo et maximam uocem, ut homo concilietur sibi et propterea mortem naturaliter fugiat, ita sibi amicus, ut esse se animal et in hac coniunctione corporis adque animae uiuere uelit uehementer adque adpetat. Magna uis est in eis malis, quibus iste naturae uincitur sensus, quo mors omni modo omnibus uiribus conatibusque uitatur, et ita uincitur, ut, quae uitabatur optetur adpetatur et, si non potuerit aliunde contingere, ab homine ipso sibimet inferatur. Magna uis est in eis malis, quae fortitudinem faciunt homicidam; si tamen adhuc dicenda est fortitudo, quae ita his malis uincitur, ut hominem, quem sicut uirtus regendum tuendumque suscepit, non modo non possit per patientiam custodire, sed ipsa insuper cogatur occidere. Debet quidem etiam mortem sapiens ferre patienter, sed quae accidit aliunde. Secundum istos autem si eam sibi ipse inferre conpellitur, profecto fatendum est eis non solum mala, sed intolerabilia etiam mala esse. quae hoc eum perpetrare conpellunt. Vita igitur, quae istorum tam magnorum tamque grauium malorum aut premitur oneribus aut subiacet casibus, nullo modo beata diceretur, si homines, qui hoc dicunt, sicut uicti malis ingrauescentibus, cum sibi ingerunt mortem, cedunt infelicitati, ita uicti certis rationibus, cum quaerunt beatam uitam, dignarentur cedere ueritati et non sibi putarent in ista mortalitate fine summi boni esse gaudendum, ubi uirtutes ipsae, quibus hic certe nihil melius adque utilius in homine reperitur, quanto maiora sunt adiutoria contra uim periculorum laborum dolorum, tanto fideliora testimonia miseriarum. Si enim uerae uirtutes sunt, quae nisi in eis, quibus uera inest pietas, esse non possunt: non se profitentur hoc posse, ut nullas miserias patiantur homines, in quibus sunt (neque enim mendaces sunt uerae uirtutes, ut hoc profiteantur), sed ut uita humana, quae tot et tantis huius saeculi malis esse cogitur misera, spe futuri saeculi sit beata, sicut et salua. Quo modo enim beata est, quae nondum salua est? Unde et apostolus Paulus non de hominibus inprudentibus inpatientibus, intemperantibus et iniquis, sed de his, qui secundum ueram pietatem uiuerent et ideo uirtutes, quas haberent, ueras haberent, ait: Spe enim salui facti sumus. Spes autem quae uidetur, non est spes. Quod enim uidet quis, quid et sperat? Si autem quod non uidemus speramus, per patientiam expectamus. Sicut ergo spe salui, ita spe beati facti sumus, et sicut salutem, ita beatitudinem non iam tenemus praesentem, sed exspectamus futuram, et hoc per patientiam; quia in malis sumus, quae patienter tolerare debemus, donec ad illa ueniamus bona, ubi omnia erunt, quibus ineffabiliter delectemur, nihil erit autem, quod iam tolerare debeamus. Talis salus, quae in futuro erit saeculo, ipsa erit etiam finalis beatitudo. Quam beatitudinem isti philosophi, quoniam non uidentes nolunt credere, hic sibi conantur falsissimam fabricare, quanto superbiore, tanto mendaciore uirtute.

Chapter 5.—Of the Social Life, Which, Though Most Desirable, is Frequently Disturbed by Many Distresses.

Caput V. De sociali uita, quae, cum maxime expetenda sit, multis offensionibus saepe subuertitur.

We give a much more unlimited approval to their idea that the life of the wise man must be social. For how could the city of God (concerning which we are already writing no less than the nineteenth book of this work) either take a beginning or be developed, or attain its proper destiny, if the life of the saints were not a social life? But who can enumerate all the great grievances with which human society abounds in the misery of this mortal state? Who can weigh them? Hear how one of their comic writers makes one of his characters express the common feelings of all men in this matter: “I am married; this is one misery. Children are born to me; they are additional cares.” What shall I say of the miseries of love which Terence also recounts—“slights, suspicions, quarrels, war to-day, peace to-morrow?” Is not human life full of such things? Do they not often occur even in honorable friendships? On all hands we experience these slights, suspicions, quarrels, war, all of which are undoubted evils; while, on the other hand, peace is a doubtful good, because we do not know the heart of our friend, and though we did know it to-day, we should be as ignorant of what it might be to-morrow. Who ought to be, or who are more friendly than those who live in the same family? And yet who can rely even upon this friendship, seeing that secret treachery has often broken it up, and produced enmity as bitter as the amity was sweet, or seemed sweet by the most perfect dissimulation? It is on this account that the words of Cicero so move the heart of every one, and provoke a sigh: “There are no snares more dangerous than those which lurk under the guise of duty or the name of relationship. For the man who is your declared foe you can easily baffle by precaution; but this hidden, intestine, and domestic danger not merely exists, but overwhelms you before you can foresee and examine it.” It is also to this that allusion is made by the divine saying, “A man’s foes are those of his own household,”—words which one cannot hear without pain; for though a man have sufficient fortitude to endure it with equanimity, and sufficient sagacity to baffle the malice of a pretended friend, yet if he himself is a good man, he cannot but be greatly pained at the discovery of the perfidy of wicked men, whether they have always been wicked and merely feigned goodness, or have fallen from a better to a malicious disposition. If, then, home, the natural refuge from the ills of life, is itself not safe, what shall we say of the city, which, as it is larger, is so much the more filled with lawsuits civil and criminal, and is never free from the fear, if sometimes from the actual outbreak, of disturbing and bloody insurrections and civil wars?

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? quis aestimare sufficiat? Audiant aput comicos suos hominem cum sensu adque consensu omnium hominum dicere: Duxi uxorem; quam ibi miseriam uidi! Nati filii. Alia cura. Quid itidem illa, quae in amore uitia commemorat idem Terentius, <iniuriae suspiciones, inimicitiae bellum, pax rursum’: nonne res humanas ubique inpleuerunt? nonne et in amicorum honestis amoribus plerumque contingunt? nonne his usquequaque plenae sunt res humanae, ubi iniurias suspiciones, inimicitias bellum mala certa sentimus; pacem uero incertum bonum, quoniam corda eomm, cum quibus eam tenere uolumus, ignoramus, et si hodie nosse possemus qualia cras futura essent utique nesciremus. Qui porro inter se amiciores solent esse uel debent, quam qui una etiam continentur domo? Et tamen quis inde securus est, cum tanta saepe mala ex eorum occultis insidiis exstiterint, tanto amariora, quanto pax dulcior fuit, quae uera putata est, cum astutissime fingeretur? Propter quod omnium pectora sic adtingit, ut cogat in gemitum, quod ait Tullius: ‘Nullae sunt occultiores insidiae quam hae, quae latent in simulatione officii aut in aliquo necessitudinis nomine. Nam eum, qui palam est aduersarius, facile cauendo uitare possis; hoc uero occultum intestinum ac domesticum malum non solum exsistit, uerum etiam obprimit, antequam prospicere adque explorare potueris.’ Propter quod etiam diuina uox illa: Et inimici hominis domestici eius cum magno dolore cordis auditur, quia, etsi quisque tam fortis sit, ut aequo animo perferat, uel tam uigilans, ut prouido consilio caueat, quae aduersus eum molitur amicitia simulata, eorum tamen hominum perfidorum malo, cum eos esse pessimos experitur, si ipse bonus est, grauiter excrucietur necesse est, siue semper mali fuerint et se bonos finxerint, siue in istam malitiam ex bonitate mutati sint. Si ergo domus, commune perfugium in his malis humani generis, tuta non est, quid ciuitas, quae quanto maior est, tanto forum eius litibus et ciuilibus et criminalibus plenius, etiamsi quiescant non. solum turbulentae, uerum saepius et cruentae seditiones ac bella ciuilia, a quorum euentis sunt aliquando liberae ciuitates, a periculis numquam?

Chapter 6.—Of the Error of Human Judgments When the Truth is Hidden.

Caput VI. De errore humanorum iudiciorum, cum ueritas latet.

What shall I say of these judgments which men pronounce on men, and which are necessary in communities, whatever outward peace they enjoy? Melancholy and lamentable judgments they are, since the judges are men who cannot discern the consciences of those at their bar, and are therefore frequently compelled to put innocent witnesses to the torture to ascertain the truth regarding the crimes of other men. What shall I say of torture applied to the accused himself? He is tortured to discover whether he is guilty, so that, though innocent, he suffers most undoubted punishment for crime that is still doubtful, not because it is proved that he committed it, but because it is not ascertained that he did not commit it. Thus the ignorance of the judge frequently involves an innocent person in suffering. And what is still more unendurable—a thing, indeed, to be bewailed, and, if that were possible, watered with fountains of tears—is this, that when the judge puts the accused to the question, that he may not unwittingly put an innocent man to death, the result of this lamentable ignorance is that this very person, whom he tortured that he might not condemn him if innocent, is condemned to death both tortured and innocent. For if he has chosen, in obedience to the philosophical instructions to the wise man, to quit this life rather than endure any longer such tortures, he declares that he has committed the crime which in fact he has not committed. And when he has been condemned and put to death, the judge is still in ignorance whether he has put to death an innocent or a guilty person, though he put the accused to the torture for the very purpose of saving himself from condemning the innocent; and consequently he has both tortured an innocent man to discover his innocence, and has put him to death without discovering it. If such darkness shrouds social life, will a wise judge take his seat on the bench or no? Beyond question he will. For human society, which he thinks it a wickedness to abandon, constrains him and compels him to this duty. And he thinks it no wickedness that innocent witnesses are tortured regarding the crimes of which other men are accused; or that the accused are put to the torture, so that they are often overcome with anguish, and, though innocent, make false confessions regarding themselves, and are punished; or that, though they be not condemned to die, they often die during, or in consequence of, the torture; or that sometimes the accusers, who perhaps have been prompted by a desire to benefit society by bringing criminals to justice, are themselves condemned through the ignorance of the judge, because they are unable to prove the truth of their accusations though they are true, and because the witnesses lie, and the accused endures the torture without being moved to confession. These numerous and important evils he does not consider sins; for the wise judge does these things, not with any intention of doing harm, but because his ignorance compels him, and because human society claims him as a judge. But though we therefore acquit the judge of malice, we must none the less condemn human life as miserable. And if he is compelled to torture and punish the innocent because his office and his ignorance constrain him, is he a happy as well as a guiltless man? Surely it were proof of more profound considerateness and finer feeling were he to recognize the misery of these necessities, and shrink from his own implication in that misery; and had he any piety about him, he would cry to God “From my necessities deliver Thou me.”

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. Unde saepe coguntur tormentis innocentium testium ad alienam causam pertinentem quaerere ueritatem. Quid cum in sua causa quisque torquetur et, cum quaeritur utrum sit nocens, cruciatur et innocens luit pro incerto scelere certissimas poenas, non quia illud commisisse detegitur, sed quia non commisisse nescitur? Ac per hoc ignorantia iudicis plerumque est calamitas innocentis. Et quod est intolerabilius magisque plangendum rigandumque, si fieri possit, fontibus Iaci-imarum, cum propterea iudex torqueat accusatum, ne occidat nesciens innocentem, fit per ignorantiae miseriam, ut et tortum et innocentem occidat, quem ne innocentem occideret torserat. Si enim secundum istorum sapientiam delegerit ex hac uita fugere quam diutius illa sustinere tormenta: quod non commisit, commisisse se dicit. Quo damnato et occiso, utrum nocentem an innocentem iudex occiderit, adhuc nescit, quem ne innocentem nesciens occideret torsit; ac per hoc innocentem et ut sciret torsit, et dum nesciret occidit. In his tenebris uitae socialis sedebit iudex ille sapiens an non audebit? Sedebit plane. Constringit enim eum et ad hoc officium pertrahit humana societas, quam deserere nefas ducit. Hoc enim nefas esse non ducit, quod testes innocentes in causis torquentur alienis; quod hi, qui arguuntur, ui doloris plerumque superati et de se falsa confessi etiam puniuntur innocentes, cum iam torti fuerint innocentes; quod, etsi non morte puniantur, in ipsis uel ex ipsis tormentis plerumque moriuntur; quod aliquando et ipsi, qui arguunt, humanae societati fortasse, ne crimina inpunita sint, prodesse cupientes et mentientibus testibus reoque ipso contra tormenta durante inmaniter nec fatente probare quod obiciunt non ualentes, quamuis uera obiecerint, a iudice nesciente damnantur. Haec tot et tanta mala non deputat esse peccata; non enim haec facit sapiens iudex nocendi uoluntate, sed necessitate nesciendi, et tamen, quia cogit humana societas, necessitate etiam iudicandi. Haec est ergo quam dicimus miseria certe hominis, etsi non malitia sapientis. An uero necessitate nesciendi adque iudicandi torquet insontes, punit insontes, et parum est illi, quod non est reus, si non sit insuper et beatus? Quanto consideratius et homine dignius agnoscit in ista necessitate miseriam eamque odit in se et, si pie sapit, clamat ad Deum: De necessitatibus meis erue me!

Chapter 7.—Of the Diversity of Languages, by Which the Intercourse of Men is Prevented; And of the Misery of Wars, Even of Those Called Just.

Caput VII. De diuersitate linguarum, qua societas hominum dirimatur, et de miseria bellorum, etiam quae iusta dicuntur.

After the state or city comes the world, the third circle of human society,—the first being the house, and the second the city. And the world, as it is larger, so it is fuller of dangers, as the greater sea is the more dangerous. And here, in the first place, man is separated from man by the difference of languages. For if two men, each ignorant of the other’s language, meet, and are not compelled to pass, but, on the contrary, to remain in company, dumb animals, though of different species, would more easily hold intercourse than they, human beings though they be. For their common nature is no help to friendliness when they are prevented by diversity of language from conveying their sentiments to one another; so that a man would more readily hold intercourse with his dog than with a foreigner. But the imperial city has endeavored to impose on subject nations not only her yoke, but her language, as a bond of peace, so that interpreters, far from being scarce, are numberless. This is true; but how many great wars, how much slaughter and bloodshed, have provided this unity! And though these are past, the end of these miseries has not yet come. For though there have never been wanting, nor are yet wanting, hostile nations beyond the empire, against whom wars have been and are waged, yet, supposing there were no such nations, the very extent of the empire itself has produced wars of a more obnoxious description—social and civil wars—and with these the whole race has been agitated, either by the actual conflict or the fear of a renewed outbreak. If I attempted to give an adequate description of these manifold disasters, these stern and lasting necessities, though I am quite unequal to the task, what limit could I set? But, say they, the wise man will wage just wars. As if he would not all the rather lament the necessity of just wars, if he remembers that he is a man; for if they were not just he would not wage them, and would therefore be delivered from all wars. For it is the wrongdoing of the opposing party which compels the wise man to wage just wars; and this wrong-doing, even though it gave rise to no war, would still be matter of grief to man because it is man’s wrong-doing. Let every one, then, who thinks with pain on all these great evils, so horrible, so ruthless, acknowledge that this is misery. And if any one either endures or thinks of them without mental pain, this is a more miserable plight still, for he thinks himself happy because he has lost human feeling.

Post ciuitatem uel urbem sequitur orbis terrae, in quo tertium gradum ponunt societatis humanae, incipientes a domo adque 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. Quando enim quae sentiunt inter se communicare non possunt propter solam diuersitatem linguae, nihil prodest ad consociandos homines tanta similitudo naturae; ita ut libentius homo sit cum cane suo quam cum homine alieno. At enim opera data est, ut imperiosa ciuitas non solum iugum, uerum etiam linguam suam domitis gentibus per pacem societatis inponeret, per quam non deesset, immo et abundaret etiam interpretum copia. Velum est; sed hoc quam multis et quam grandibus bellis, quanta strage hominum, quanta effusione humani sanguinis conparatum est? Quibus transactis, non est tamen eorundem malorum finita miseria. Quamuis enim non defuerint neque desint hostes exterae nationes, contra quas semper bella gesta sunt et geruntur: tamen etiam ipsa imperii latitudo peperit peioris generis bella, socialia scilicet et ciuilia, quibus miserabilius quatitur humanum genus, siue cum belligeratur, ut aliquando conquiescant, siue cum timetur, ne rursus exsurgant. Quorum malorum multas et multiplices clades, duras et diras necessitates si ut dignum est eloqui uelim, quamquam nequaquam sicut res postulat possim: quis erit prolixae disputationis modus? Sed sapiens, inquiunt, iusta bella gesturus est. Quasi non, si se hominem meminit, multo magis dolebit iustorum necessitatem sibi extitisse bellorum, quia nisi iusta essent, ei gerenda non essent, ac per hoc sapienti nulla bella essent. Iniquitas enim partis aduersae iusta bella ingerit gerenda sapienti; quae iniquitas utique homini est dolenda, quia hominum est, etsi nulla ex ea bellandi necessitas nasceretur. Haec itaque mala tam magna, tam horrenda, tam saeua quisquis cum dolore considerat, miseriam fateatur; quisquis autem uel patitur ea sine animi dolore uel cogitat, multo utique miserius ideo se putat beatum, quia et humanum perdidit sensum.

Chapter 8.—That the Friendship of Good Men Cannot Be Securely Rested In, So Long as the Dangers of This Life Force Us to Be Anxious.

Caput VIII. Quod amicitia bonorum secura esse non possit, dum a periculis, quae in hac uita sunt, trepidari necesse est.

In our present wretched condition we frequently mistake a friend for an enemy, and an enemy for a friend. And if we escape this pitiable blindness, is not the unfeigned confidence and mutual love of true and good friends our one solace in human society, filled as it is with misunderstandings and calamities? And yet the more friends we have, and the more widely they are scattered, the more numerous are our fears that some portion of the vast masses of the disasters of life may light upon them. For we are not only anxious lest they suffer from famine, war, disease, captivity, or the inconceivable horrors of slavery, but we are also affected with the much more painful dread that their friendship may be changed into perfidy, malice, and injustice. And when these contingencies actually occur,—as they do the more frequently the more friends we have, and the more widely they are scattered,—and when they come to our knowledge, who but the man who has experienced it can tell with what pangs the heart is torn? We would, in fact, prefer to hear that they were dead, although we could not without anguish hear of even this. For if their life has solaced us with the charms of friendship, can it be that their death should affect us with no sadness? He who will have none of this sadness must, if possible, have no friendly intercourse. Let him interdict or extinguish friendly affection; let him burst with ruthless insensibility the bonds of every human relationship; or let him contrive so to use them that no sweetness shall distil into his spirit. But if this is utterly impossible, how shall we contrive to feel no bitterness in the death of those whose life has been sweet to us? Hence arises that grief which affects the tender heart like a wound or a bruise, and which is healed by the application of kindly consolation. For though the cure is affected all the more easily and rapidly the better condition the soul is in, we must not on this account suppose that there is nothing at all to heal. Although, then, our present life is afflicted, sometimes in a milder, sometimes in a more painful degree, by the death of those very dear to us, and especially of useful public men, yet we would prefer to hear that such men were dead rather than to hear or perceive that they had fallen from the faith, or from virtue,—in other words, that they were spiritually dead. Of this vast material for misery the earth is full, and therefore it is written, “Is not human life upon earth a trial?” And with the same reference the Lord says, “Woe to the world because of offenses!” and again, “Because iniquity abounded, the love of many shall wax cold.” And hence we enjoy some gratification when our good friends die; for though their death leaves us in sorrow, we have the consolatory assurance that they are beyond the ills by which in this life even the best of men are broken down or corrupted, or are in danger of both results.

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 adfligantur, ne in eadem seruitute talia patiantur, qualia nec cogitare sufficimus; uerum etiam, ubi timor est multo amarior, ne in perfidiam malitiam nequitiamque mutentur. Et quando ista contingunt (tanto utique plura, quanto illi sunt plures) et in nostram notitiam perferuntur, quibus cor nostrum flagris uratur, quis potest, nisi qui talia sentit, aduertere? Mortuos quippe audire mallemus, quamuis et hoc sine dolore non possimus audire. Quorum enim nos uita propter amicitiae solacia delectabat, unde fieri potest, ut eorum mors nullam nobis ingerat maestitudinem? Quam qui prohibet, prohibeat, si potest, amica conloquia, interdicat amicalem uel intercidat adfectum, humanarum omnium necessitudinum uincula mentis inmiti stupore disrumpat aut sic eis utendum censeat, ut nulla ex eis animum dulcedo perfundat. Quod si fieri nullo modo potest, etiam hoc quo pacto futurum est, ut eius nobis amara mors non sit, cuius dulcis est uita? Hinc enim est et luctus quoddam non inhumani cordis quasi uulnus aut ulcus, cui sanando adhibentur officiosae consolationes. Non enim propterea non est quod sanetur, quoniam quanto est animus melior, tanto in eo citius faciliusque sanatur. Cum igitur etiam de carissimorum mortibus, maxime quorum sunt humanae societati officia necessaria, nunc mitius, nunc asperius adfligatur uita mortalium: mortuos tamen eos, quos diligimus, quam uel a fide uel a bonis moribus lapsos, hoc est in ipsa anima mortuos, audire seu uidere mallemus. Qua ingenti materia malorum plena est terra, propter quod scriptum est: Numquid non tentatio est uita humana super terram? et propter quod ipse Dominus ait: Vae mundo ab scandalis, et iterum: Quoniam abundauit, inquit, iniquitas, refrigescet caritas multorum. Ex quo fit, ut bonis amicis mortuis gratulemur et, cum mors eorum nos contristet, ipsa nos certius consoletur, quoniam caruerunt malis, quibus in hac uita etiam boni homines uel conteruntur uel deprauantur uel in utroque periclitantur.

Chapter 9.—Of the Friendship of the Holy Angels, Which Men Cannot Be Sure of in This Life, Owing to the Deceit of the Demons Who Hold in Bondage the Worshippers of a Plurality of Gods.

Caput IX. De amicitia sanctorum angelorum, quae homini in hoc mundo non potest esse manifesta propter fallaciam daemonum, in quos inciderunt, qui multos sibi deos colendos putarunt.

The philosophers who wished us to have the gods for our friends rank the friendship of the holy angels in the fourth circle of society, advancing now from the three circles of society on earth to the universe, and embracing heaven itself. And in this friendship we have indeed no fear that the angels will grieve us by their death or deterioration. But as we cannot mingle with them as familiarly as with men (which itself is one of the grievances of this life), and as Satan, as we read, sometimes transforms himself into an angel of light, to tempt those whom it is necessary to discipline, or just to deceive, there is great need of God’s mercy to preserve us from making friends of demons in disguise, while we fancy we have good angels for our friends; for the astuteness and deceitfulness of these wicked spirits is equalled by their hurtfulness. And is this not a great misery of human life, that we are involved in such ignorance as, but for God’s mercy, makes us a prey to these demons? And it is very certain that the philosophers of the godless city, who have maintained that the gods were their friends, had fallen a prey to the malignant demons who rule that city, and whose eternal punishment is to be shared by it. For the nature of these beings is sufficiently evinced by the sacred or rather sacrilegious observances which form their worship, and by the filthy games in which their crimes are celebrated, and which they themselves originated and exacted from their worshippers as a fit propitiation.

In societate uero sanctorum angelorum, quam philosophi illi, qui nobis deos amicos esse uoluerunt, quarto constitnerunt loco, uelut ad mundum uenientes ab orbe terrarum, ut sic quodam modo conplecterentur 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 pertinetuitae) et aliquando Satanas, sicut legimus, transfigurat se uelut angelum lucis ad tentandos 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? Et illos quidem philosophos in inpia ciuitate, qui deos sibi amicos esse dixerunt, in daemones malignos incidisse certissimum est, quibus tota ipsa ciuitas subditur, aeternum cum eis habitura supplicium. Ex eorum quippe sacris uel potius sacrilegiis, quibus eos colendos, et ex ludis inmundissimis, ubi eorum crimina celebrantur, quibus eos placandos putarunt eisdem ipsis auctoribus et exactoribus talium tantorumque dedecorum, satis ab eis qui colantur apertum est.

Chapter 10.—The Reward Prepared for the Saints After They Have Endured the Trial of This Life.

Caput X. Quis fructus sanctis de superata huius uitae tentatione pariatur.

But not even the saints and faithful worshippers of the one true and most high God are safe from the manifold temptations and deceits of the demons. For in this abode of weakness, and in these wicked days, this state of anxiety has also its use, stimulating us to seek with keener longing for that security where peace is complete and unassailable. There we shall enjoy the gifts of nature, that is to say, all that God the Creator of all natures has bestowed upon ours,—gifts not only good, but eternal,—not only of the spirit, healed now by wisdom, but also of the body renewed by the resurrection. There the virtues shall no longer be struggling against any vice or evil, but shall enjoy the reward of victory, the eternal peace which no adversary shall disturb. This is the final blessedness, this the ultimate consummation, the unending end. Here, indeed, we are said to be blessed when we have such peace as can be enjoyed in a good life; but such blessedness is mere misery compared to that final felicity. When we mortals possess such peace as this mortal life can afford, virtue, if we are living rightly, makes a right use of the advantages of this peaceful condition; and when we have it not, virtue makes a good use even of the evils a man suffers. But this is true virtue, when it refers all the advantages it makes a good use of, and all that it does in making good use of good and evil things, and itself also, to that end in which we shall enjoy the best and greatest peace possible.

Sed neque sancti et fideles unius ueri Dei summique cultores ab eorum fallaciis et multiformi tentatione securi sunt. In hoc enim loco infirmitatis et diebus malignis etiam ista sollicitudo non est inutilis, ut illa securitas, ubi pax plenissima adque 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. Ipsa est enim beatitudo finalis, ipse perfectionis finis, qui consumentem non habet finem. Hic autem dicimur quidem beati, quando pacem habemus, quantulacumque hic haberi potest in uita bona; sed haec beatitudo illi, quam finalem dicimus, beatitudini conparata prorsus miseria reperitur. Hanc ergo pacem, qualis hic potest esse, mortales homines in rebus mortalibus quando habemus, si recte uiuimus, bonis eius recte utitur uirtus; quando uero eam non habemus, etiam malis, quae homo patitur, bene utitur uirtus. Sed tunc est uera uirtus, quando et omnia bona, quibus bene utitur. et quidquid in bono usu bonorum et malorum facit, et se ipsam ad eum finem refert, ubi nobis talis et tanta pax erit, qua melior et maior esse non possit.