Other
than the contents of the biography by Diogenes Laertius, our
most reliable source of information on Epicurean philosophy comes
from Lucretius’ famous poem. On
The Nature of Things is
sweeping in scope and detail, but in the end it is essentially a
presentation of the Epicurean method for answering the most common
and troubling questions about the nature of life and of the universe.
Lucretius
develops his argument in great detail, but gives minimal introduction
to the method of his approach. It will therefore assist the new
reader immensely to first review Epicurus’ own Letter
to Menoeceus and
Cicero’s Defense
of Epicurus.
More
important even than anything else, however, is to grasp
Epicurus’ method
of thought.
Rather than accept the authority of religion’s divine revelation or
Plato’s abstract “reason,” Epicurus attacks each problem by
first examining the relevant facts which can be grasped by direct
observation.
First
and always, the search for answer to any question must begins by
establishing the basic parameters of the matter through the five
senses, thepassions, and
the anticipations. Then,
and only then, does Epicurus enlist the aid of reason to draw
additional conclusions by deduction from those facts which he has
already established to be true.
Unfortunately
Lucretius does not begin his work with a discussion of this method,
as his audience would already have been familiar with Epicurus’s
introductory volume entitled the Canon
of Truth.
That work no longer survives, but the basic framework of the method
can be deduced from ancient sources, many of which are collected in
this website’s Introduction
to Epicurus’ Canon of Truth.
Once
the reader understands the method, it will become clear why so much
of On
The Nature of Things is
devoted to the details of natural phenomena. Such descriptions
are not superfluous; they are the starting points for all deductive
reasoning, because they are the evidence of Nature for which we have
a clear view. It is only after we have grasped those things
which we know to be true that we may deduce
the truth of other
things — such as the nature of the soul and the “origin” of the
universe — about which our information is limited.
This
method of evaluating reality was the Epicurean key to avoiding the
errors of religion and of the false philosophers. Epicurus freely
admitted that this method is insufficient to establish answers
to all questions,
but he stressed that it was sufficient to
eliminate the false contentions of the priests and the Platonic
philosophers.
Thus the ultimate point of On
The Nature of Things is
that for all the questions
which trouble the minds of men there
are Natural answers.
Because we can be confident that Natural answers exist (even if we
are not sure of all the details), we need not be concerned that the
Gods, Fate, or Fortune deprive us of control over our own lives.
While the particular details of the answer to any question might need
revision if additional information was discovered, Epicureans would
have been confident that any revision would always remain within the
domain of Natural explanations.
The
full text of the poem is available in many translations, but not so
many are available in full on the internet. I often refer to both the
Loeb edition and that of Cyril Bailey, but my favorite remains that
of H. A. J. Munro. A
PDF of Munro’s version is available here,
and the text is also available in full in the navigation pane to the
left, or at the following links:
The
remainder of this page is devoted to a paraphrase of significant
passages of the poem prepared with the twin goals of clarity and
fidelity to the meaning of the original.
De
Rerum Natura – On The Nature of Things
VENUS,
mother of Aeneas’ nation, darling of men and gods, who beneath the
stars of heaven fills with your presence the ship-carrying sea and
the corn-bearing land! Through you every kind of living thing is
conceived, rises up, and beholds the light of the sun. Before you
flee the winds and the clouds of heaven. … For you the earth puts
forth sweet-smelling flowers; for you the waves of the sea laugh and
heavens shine with outspread light. Throughout seas, mountains,
rivers and plains you strike fond love into the hearts of all, and
you inspire them with desire to continue their races.
Since
you are sole mistress of the nature of things, and without you
nothing rises up into the divine light, and nothing grows to be glad
or lovely, I ask that you help me in writing these verses on the
nature of things….
…
[50]
For what follows, withdraw from other cares and employ true
reasoning, with undistracted ears and keen mind, lest you abandon
with disdain the gifts I set out for you before you understand them.
For I will explain to you the ultimate system of the universe and of
the gods, and I will open up to you the first beginning of all things
— those things out of which nature creates, grows, and nourishes
all things, and into which nature likewise dissolves them back after
their destruction. These first beginnings we call “matter” or the
“seeds of things” or the “first beginnings” or “atoms”
because from these elements all things are made.
[62]
When human life – before the eyes of all – lay foully prostrate
upon the earth, crushed down under the weight of religion, which
glowered down from heaven upon mortal men with a hideous appearance,
one man — a Greek — first dared to lift up his mortal eyes and
stand up face-to-face against religion. This man could not be quashed
either by stories of gods or thunderbolts or even by the deafening
roar of heaven. Those things only spurred on the eager courage of his
soul, filling him with desire to be the first to burst the tight bars
placed on Nature’s gates. The living force of his soul won the day,
and on he passed, far beyond the flaming walls of the world,
traveling with his mind and with his spirit the immeasurable
universe. And from there he returned to us – like a conqueror —
to tell us what can be, and what cannot, and on what principle and
deep-set boundary mark Nature has established all things. Through
this knowledge, superstition is thrown down and trampled underfoot,
and by his victory we are raised equal with the stars.
[80]
In this I fear, however: that you may imagine that you are entering
onto unholy grounds, and treading the path of sin. On the contrary,
very often it is religion itself that gives birth to sinful and
unholy deeds.
Thus
in Aulis the chieftains of the Danai, foremost of men, foully
polluted the altar with Iphianassa’s blood. Recall how she saw her
father standing sorrowful before the altar, while beside him the
priests hid the knife, and how she saw her countrymen shed tears at
the sight. Speechless in terror, she dropped down on her knees and
sank to the ground. Even in such a moment it was no help to her that
she had been the king’s first-borne and first to call him “father.”
For lifted up in the hands of the priests she was carried, shivering,
to the altar — not to the performance of the bridal rites, but
rather, in the very season of marriage to fall a sad victim by the
sacrificing stroke of her father, that in this way a happy and
prosperous departure might be granted to his fleet.
So
great are the evils to which religion can persuade!
[102]
You yourself at some point, overcome by the terrorizing tales of the
priests, may seek to fall away from us. For indeed, how many dreams
they imagine for you — enough to upset all the calculations of your
life and trouble all your fortunes with fear! And they dream up this
everlasting torment for good reason, because if men were to see that
there is a fixed limit to their woes, they would be able to withstand
the terrors of religion and the threats of their priests. As it is,
men have no means of resisting those threats, since they believe that
they must fear everlasting punishment after death. For men cannot
determine the nature of their souls, whether it is born with them, or
finds its way into them at their birth from somewhere else, or
whether it perishes with them when they die, or visits the gloom of
Hell….
Therefore
we must grasp firmly the principles by which the sun and moon go on
in their courses, and the force by which every thing on earth
proceeds. But above all we must find out by keen reason the nature of
the soul and of the mind, and what may explain the visions we
sometimes see when we are awake, or under the influence of disease,
or when we are buried in sleep, so that we seem to see and hear
speaking to us face to face those who are dead and whose bones the
earth holds in its embrace. ….
[146]
Your terror and darkness of mind must be dispelled — not by the
rays of the sun and glittering shafts of the day, but by the study of
the law of nature.
We
shall begin with this first principle: nothing ever comes from
nothing by divine power. In truth, fear holds all men in check,
because they see many things go on in earth and in the sky, and they
fail to understand the cause, believing those things to be done by
divine power. Once we shall have seen that nothing can be produced
from nothing, we shall then ascertain the explanation of these
things, both the elements out of which every thing can be produced
and the manner in which all things are done — without the hand of
the gods.
[159]
If things came from nothing, any thing might be born of anything, for
nothing would require seed. Men, for instance, might instantly rise
out of the sea, fish out of the earth, and birds out of the sky. Nor
would the same fruits grow from the same trees, but would change, and
any tree might bear any fruit. For if there were not first-beginning
bodies for each, how could things have a fixed unvarying origin? But
in fact because all things are produced from fixed seeds, each thing
is born according to the nature of its own seeds. It is for this
reason that all things cannot be gotten out of all things, because
within particular things reside distinct powers and characteristics.
Why do we see the rose bloom in the spring, corn in the summer, and
vines in the autumn, if not because it is the nature of their fixed
seeds to spring forth at the proper time?
But
if such things came from nothing, they would rise up suddenly at
uncertain and unsuitable times of year, inasmuch as there would be no
first-beginnings to keep them from bursting forth in an unwelcome
season. Nor would time be required for the growth of things after the
seeds have come together, if things could grow from nothing. Little
babies would at once grow into men, and trees would spring out of the
ground in a moment. But we see plainly that none of these events ever
comes to pass, since all things grow step by step at a fixed time, as
is natural, and this is because they all grow from a fixed seed which
follows its own nature. Without fixed seasons of rain, the earth is
unable to put forth its produce, nor can anything sustain its own
life if separated from its own food. Thus you may hold with
conviction that distinct basic elements compose the many things that
we see, in the same way that we see distinct letters of the alphabet
composing many different words.
Again,
why could Nature not produce men of such size and strength as to be
able to wade on foot across the sea, tear apart great mountains with
their hands, and outlive many generations of men? The reason we never
see such things is that unchanging first-beginnings have been
assigned for all that exists, and the nature of all those things that
can arise from these first-beginnings is fixed. We must admit
therefore that nothing can come from nothing, since all things
require seed before they can be born. Just as we see that fields that
are tilled surpass those that are untilled, we may infer that there
are in the soil first-beginnings which we stimulate to rise by our
labor. If these first-beginnings did not exist, you would see all
sorts of things arise from the fields spontaneously and in greater
perfection without the the need for our labors!
[215]
Next, we observe that over time Nature dissolves everything back into
its own first bodies, but that Nature does not totally annihilate
anything. If all things were made up of parts that could perish
entirely, we would see things snatched away to destruction in an
instant from before our eyes. No force would be needed to disrupt
their parts and undo their fastenings. In fact, however, all things
consist of imperishable elements, and we see that Nature destroys
nothing until a thing encounters a force sufficient to dash it to
pieces by blows or by being pierced and broken up from within.
[225]
If time utterly destroys things when they age, and eats up all their
elements to nothing, out of what does Venus bring back into the light
of life all living things, each after its kind? Or, as we see that
living things are brought back, out of what does the earth give them
nourishment and growth? Out of what do the earth’s fountains and
rivers keep full the sea? Out of what does nature feed the stars? For
infinite time has gone by already, and the passing of days would
necessarily have consumed all things to nothing if they were composed
of mortal elements. So if despite the eternity of time that has gone
by those things which we see today continue to exist, then those
things are no doubt composed of immortal elements which cannot return
to nothing.
***
[418]
And now to resume the thread of my design: All nature is founded on
two things: (1) bodies and (2) empty space, or void, in which these
bodies are placed and through which they move about. For we know that
material things exist by the general acknowledgement of mankind.
Unless, at the very first, we firmly ground our conviction that the
material things we perceive directly do in fact exist, there will be
nothing to which we can appeal to prove anything by the reasoning of
the mind, especially in regard to those things that we only perceive
indirectly. In the same way, we must acknowledge that if void and
empty space do not exist, bodies could not be placed anywhere nor
move about in any direction, as we see that they do move.
Moreover
there is nothing which you can affirm to exist except matter and void
– nothing which would constitute a third kind of nature. For
whatever exists as an entity must itself be composed of these two
things. If a thing exists at all and can be touched in however slight
a way, no matter how large or small it may be, it must be counted as
a part of the total sum of material things. But if a thing is
intangible and unable to hinder any thing from passing through it on
any side, then this is what we call “the void.” Whatever exists
as an entity will either do something itself or will allow other
things that do exist to do things to it. But nothing can do or allow
things to be done to it unless it has a material existence, and
nothing can furnish room in which material things can act except the
void. Thus besides void and material things no third nature can
exist, because no third nature can at any time be observed by our
senses or conceived by our reasoning minds.
…
[690]
To say as one philosopher does that all things are fire, and that
nothing really exists except fire, is sheer insanity. For this man
takes his stand on the side of the senses at the same time that he
fights against the senses. His argument challenges the authority of
the senses, on which rests all our convictions, even his own
conviction about this fire (as he calls it) that is known only to
himself. For what he is saying is that he believes that the senses
can truly perceive fire, but he does not believe they can perceive
all other things, which are not a bit less clear! Now this is clearly
as false as it is foolish, for to what shall we appeal to resolve the
question? What more certain test can we apply but that of the senses
to judge truth and falsehood? Why should anyone choose to abolish all
other things that we see and choose to leave only fire? Why not
abolish fire, and hold that all nature is composed of all other
things besides fire? It would be equal madness to affirm either one
or the other position.
…
[[921]
Now mark and learn what remains to be known and hear it more
distinctly. My mind does not fail to perceive how dark these things
are — but the great hope of praise has smitten my heart, and at the
same time has struck into my heart sweet love of the muses. Now,
inspired by those muses, I travel in thought the pathless fields
never yet walked by any man. I approach and drink from untasted
springs, and I gather for my head a crown of flowers from places
where the muses have never before crowned the brows of men. I do this
because I teach great things, I endeavor to release the mind from the
bonds of religion, and I do so by means of verses inlaid with the
charm of the muses themselves.
And
I compose in verse for the same reason that doctors, when dispensing
nauseous wormwood to children, first smear the rim of their
medicine-cup with honey. Doctors do this so that the unthinking child
may take the bitter medicine at least as far as his lips, and drink
it up, fooled but not betrayed, but brought to health again by
double-dealing. In my case, since my doctrine seems somewhat bitter
at first, and many shrink back from it, I set forth to you our
doctrine in sweet-toned verses, overlaid with the pleasant honey of
the muses, so that by such means I may engage your mind on the truth
of these verses until you clearly perceive the essential nature of
things./p>
It
is sweet, when winds trouble the waters on the great sea, to behold
from land the distress of others, not because it is a pleasure that
any should be afflicted, but because it is sweet to see from what
evils you are yourself exempt. It is sweet also to look upon the
mighty struggles of armies arrayed in battle without sharing yourself
in the danger. But nothing is more welcome than to hold lofty and
serene positions that are well fortified by the learning of the wise.
From here you may look down upon others and see them wandering, going
astray in their search for the correct path of life, and contesting
among themselves their intellect, their station in life, and striving
night and day with tremendous effort to struggle up to the summit of
power and be masters of the world.
O
miserable minds of men! O blinded hearts! In what darkness of life
and in what great danger you pass this term of life, whatever its
duration. How can you choose not to see that Nature craves for
herself no more than this: that the body feel no pain, and the mind
enjoy pleasure exempt from care and fear?
We
see that by nature the body needs but little — only such things as
take away pain. Although at times luxuries can provide us many choice
delights, Nature for her part does not need them, and never misses it
when there are no golden images of youths throughout the house,
holding in their right hands flaming lamps to light the nightly
banquet. Nature cares not a bit when the house does not shine with
silver or glitter with gold, or when there are no paneled and gilded
roofs to echo the sound of harp. Men who lack such things are just as
happy when they spread themselves in groups on soft grass beside a
stream of water under the limbs of a high tree, and at no great cost
pleasantly refresh their bodies, especially when the weather smiles
and the seasons sprinkle the green grass with flowers. Nor does fever
leave the body any sooner if you toss about under an elegant
bedspread amid bright purple linens than if you must lay under a poor
man’s blanket.
Since
treasure is of no avail to the body, any more than is high birth or
the glory of kingly power, by this we see that treasure and high
birth are not necessary for the mind either. When you see your
legions swarm over the battleground, strengthened front and rear by
powerful reserves and strong cavalry, well armed and in high spirits,
do you find that these scare away the fears of religion, and that
fear of the gods flees panic-stricken from your mind? Or do you find
that when you see your navy sail forth and spread itself far and wide
over the waters, does that drive away the fear of death and leave
your heart untroubled and free from care?
We
see that this is laughable, because in truth the real fears and cares
of men do not run from the clash of arms and weapons. If these same
fears trouble kings and caesars, and if their fears are not quieted
by the glitter of gold or the brilliance of the purple robe, how can
you suspect that these matters can be resolved by reason alone, when
the whole of life is a struggle in the dark?
For
even as children are terrified and dread all things in the thick
darkness, thus we in the daylight fear at times things not a bit more
to be dreaded than those which children shudder at in the dark and
imagine to be true. Therefore this terror and darkness of mind must
be dispelled, not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of
day, but by a clear view of the law of Nature.
…
[165]
But some in opposition to our views, and ignorant of the nature of
things, believe that without the providence of gods nature could not
vary the seasons of the year and bring forth crops. Such men do not
see those things that are done through the agency of divine pleasure,
the guide of life, which leads men to continue their race, through
the arts of Venus, that mankind may not come to an end. Now when they
suppose that the gods designed all things for the sake of men, they
seem to me in all respects to have strayed most widely from true
reason. For even if I did not know what atoms are, yet judging by the
very arrangements of heaven I would venture to affirm and maintain:
This World has by no means been made for us by divine power, so great
are the defects with which it stands encumbered.
…
[225]
This point too, we should understand: when bodies are borne downwards
through void by their own weight, at quite uncertain times and
uncertain places they push themselves a little from their course: you
can only just call it a change of inclination. If they did not
swerve, they would all fall down, like drops of rain, through the
deep void, and no clashing would have been begotten nor blow produced
among these first-beginnings, and thus nature would never have
produced anything.
But
if anyone happens to believe that heavier bodies are carried more
quickly sheer through space and fall from above on the lighter bodies
and so beget blows able to produce begetting motions, he goes most
widely astray from true reason. For whenever bodies fall through
water and thin air, they quicken their descents in proportion to
their weights, because the body of water and the subtle nature of air
cannot retard everything in equal degree, but more readily give way
and are overpowered by the heavier. On the other hand, empty void
cannot offer resistance to anything in any direction at any time, but
must, as is its nature, continually give way. For this reason all
things are moved and borne along with equal velocity through the
unresisting void, though they are of unequal weights. Therefore
heavier things will never be able to fall from above on lighter nor
of themselves to beget blows sufficient to produce the varied motions
by which nature carries on things. Wherefore again and again I say
bodies must swerve a little; and yet not more than the least
possible; lest we be found to be imagining oblique motions, and this
the reality should refute. For this we see to be plain and evident,
that weighty things cannot travel obliquely when they fall from above
at least so far as can be perceived. But that nothing swerves to any
degree case from the straight course, who is there that can perceive?
Again,
is all motion forever linked together, and does new motion always
spring from another in a fixed order? If first-beginnings do not, by
swerving, make some commencement of motion to break through the
decrees of fate, so that one cause does not follow another cause from
eternity, how have all living creatures here on earth wrested from
the fates the power by which we go forward whichever way the will
leads, by which we likewise change the direction of our motions
neither at a fixed time nor at a fixed place, but when and where the
mind itself has prompted? Beyond doubt in these things a man’s own
will determines each beginning, and from this beginning motions
travel through the limbs.
Do
you not also see, when the gates are thrown open at a given moment,
that the eager powers of the horses cannot start forward so
instantaneously as their minds desire? The whole store of matter
throughout the body must be sought out in order that, stirred up
through all the frame, it may follow with undivided effort the
leading of the mind. By this you see that the beginning of motion is
born in the heart, and the action first commences in the will of the
mind and is next transmitted throughout the body and frame.
Quite
different is the case when we move on, propelled by a stroke
inflicted by the compulsion of another. In that case, it is quite
clear that all the matter of the whole body moves against our
inclination, until the will has reined it in throughout the limbs. Do
you see then in this case that, though an outward force often pushes
men on and compels them frequently to advance against their will,
there yet is something in our breast sufficient to struggle against
and resist it? And when, too, this something chooses, the matter of
the body is compelled to change its course through the limbs and
frame, and after it has been forced forward, it is reined in and
settles back into its place.
For
this reason in first-beginnings too you must admit that besides
outside blows and weight there is another cause of motion, from which
our power of free action has been begotten within us, since we see
that nothing can come from nothing. Weight alone would require that
all things were overmastered and caused by blows from outward forces.
But the mind itself does not feel an internal necessity in all its
actions, and it is not overmastered and compelled to bear and put up
with this. Rather, the freedom of the mind is caused by a minute
swerving of first beginnings at no fixed place and no fixed time.
Nor
was the universe as a whole ever more closely massed nor held apart
by larger spaces between; for nothing is either added to its bulk or
lost to it. For that reason the bodies of the first-beginnings in
times gone by have always moved in the same way in which now they
move, and they will ever hereafter be borne along in like manner, and
the things which have been begotten will be begotten after the same
law and will grow and will wax in strength so far as is given to each
by the decrees of Nature. No force can change the sum of things; for
there is nothing outside the universe, either into which any matter
from the universe can escape, or out of which a new supply of matter
can arise and burst into the universe and change the Nature of things
and alter their motions.
…
[625]
For by nature of the gods must always in themselves of necessity
enjoy immortality together with supreme repose, far removed and
withdrawn from our concerns. This is because a god is exempt from
every pain, exempt from all dangers, strong in its own resources, not
wanting anything of us, and it neither gains by favors nor is moved
by anger.
And
if any one thinks proper to call the sea Neptune and corn Ceres and
chooses rather to misuse the name of Bacchus than to utter the term
that belongs to that liquor, let us allow him to declare that the
earth is mother of the gods, if he will in truth forbear from
staining his mind with foul religion.
The
earth however is at all time without feeling, and because it receives
into it the first-beginnings of many things, it brings them forth in
many ways into the light of the sun. And so the woolly flocks and the
martial breed of horses and horned herds, though often beneath the
same sky slaking their thirst from one stream of water, yet have all
their life a dissimilar appearance and retain the Nature of their
parents and severally imitate their ways each after its kind. So
great is the diversity of matter in any kind of herbage, so great in
every river! And hence, too, any one you please out of the whole
number of living creatures is made up of bones, blood, vein, heat,
moisture, flesh, sinews; and these things again differ widely from
one another and are composed of first-beginnings of unlike shape.
Furthermore,
whatever things are set on fire and burned, have stored up in their
bodies, if nothing else, at least those particles out of which they
radiate fire and send out light and make sparks fly and scatter
embers all about. If you will go over all other things by a like
process of reasoning, you will thus find that they conceal in their
body the seeds of many things and contain elements of various shapes.
Again you see many things to which are given at once both color and
taste together with smell; especially those many offerings which are
burned on the altars. These must therefore be made up of elements of
different shapes; for smell enters in where color does not pass,
color is sensed in one way, and taste in another; so that you know
they differ in the shapes of their first elements. Therefore
different forms unite into one mass, and things are made up of a
mixture of seeds.
[689]
Moreover, throughout these very verses of ours you see many elements
common to many words, though yet you must admit that the verses and
words are different and composed of different elements. Only a few
letters that are in common run through them, and no two words or
verses one with another are made up entirely of the same, and as a
rule they do not all resemble one the other. In the same way,
although in all things there are many first-beginnings common to many
things, yet they can make up together a quite dissimilar whole, so
that men and corn and trees may fairly be said to consist of
different elements.
And
yet we may not suppose that all things can be joined together in all
ways. If that were possible, then you would see prodigies produced
everywhere, such as forms springing up half-man half-beast, tall
branches sprouting from an animal’s body, limbs of land-creatures
joined with those of sea-animals, and even chimeras which breathe
flames from noisy mouths. It is plain to see, however, that nothing
of the sort occurs, since we see that all things are produced from
fixed seeds, and a fixed mother can preserve the mark of her kind.
This you must realize takes place due to a fixed law of nature. For
the particles of food suitable for each thing pass into the frame and
join together to produce the appropriate motions of the organism. But
on the other hand we see Nature throw out on the earth things that
are alien, and many things are ejected from the body as if impelled
by blows – those I mean which have not been able to join on to any
part, nor when inside the body to feel in unison with and adopt the
vital motions of that body.
But
lest you should happen to suppose that living things alone are bound
by these conditions, such a law keeps all things within their limits.
For even as all created things are in their whole nature unlike each
other, thus each must consist of first-beginnings of unlike shape;
not that a small number of things that are of a like form, because as
a rule all things do not resemble one the other. Since the seeds
differ, there must be between the atoms a difference in the spaces
between their passages, their connections, their weights, their
collisions, and their motions; all which not only separate living
bodies, but hold apart the lands and the sea, and separate the heaven
from the earth.
…
[1023]
Apply now, I entreat you, your mind to true reason. For a new
question struggles earnestly to gain your ears, a new aspect of
things to display itself. But there is nothing so easy which is not
at first more difficult to believe than afterwards; and nothing so
great or so marvelous that all do not gradually lose their wonder at
it.
Look
up at the bright and unsullied hue of heaven and the stars which it
holds within it, wandering all about, and the moon and the sun’s
light of dazzling brilliancy: if all these things were now for the
first time suddenly and unexpectedly presented to mortal men, what
could be named that would be more marvelous than these things, or
that men beforehand would believe to be possible? Nothing, I think —
so wondrous and strange would be the sight.
Yet
weary as all are to haven seen these things, how little any one now
cares to look up into heaven’s glittering quarters. Cease therefore
to be dismayed by the novelty which causes you to fearfully reject
reason from your mind. Instead, weigh the questions with keen
judgment, and if they seem to you to be true, surrender to them, or
if they are appear false, gird yourself for battle with them. For
since the sum of space is unlimited beyond the walls of this world,
the mind seeks to apprehend what there is out there, and the spirit
ever yearns to look forward to that toward which the mind’s
thoughts reach in free and unembarrassed flight.
It
is you– you who were first able amid such thick darkness to raise
on high so bright a beacon and shed light on the true interests of
life. It is you I follow, glory of the Greek race. And I now plant my
footsteps firmly in those you have left, not because I desire to
rival you, but because the love I bear for you causes me to yearn to
imitate you. For why should a swallow contend with swans, and what
likeness is there between the racing of goats with tottering legs and
the powerful strength of horses?
You,
father, are the discoverer of things, and you furnish us with
fatherly precepts. Like bees sipping from flowers, we, O glorious
one, in like manner feed from out thy pages on golden maxims –
golden I say – that are most worthy of endless life. For as soon as
your philosophy, issuing from your godlike intellect, has begun to
proclaim the Nature of things, the terrors of the mind are dispelled,
and the walls of the world fly open. I see things in operation
throughout the whole universe – I see the divinity of the gods as
well as their tranquil abodes which neither winds shake nor clouds
drench with rain nor snow harms with sharp frosts. An ever cloudless
sky canopies them, and they laugh a with light shed in all
directions. Nature supplies all their wants, and nothing ever impairs
their peace of mind.
But
on the other hand the regions of Hell are nowhere to be seen, though
earth is no bar seeing all things which are in operation underneath
our feet throughout the universe. At the sight of all this a kind of
godlike delight mixed with awe overcomes me, to think that Nature by
your power is laid open to our eyes and unveiled on every side.
So
far, I have shown in what way all things have their first beginnings,
of such diverse shapes, which fly spontaneously on in everlasting
motion, and how all things are produced out of these. Next, my verses
much clear up the nature of the mind and soul, and drive the dread of
Hell headlong away, since that dread troubles the life of man from
its inmost depths, and overspreads all things with the blackness of
death, allowing no pleasure to be pure and unalloyed.
For
as to those boasts that men often give out, that “disease and a
life of shame are more to be feared than Tartarus’ place of death,”
or that “they know the soul to be of blood or wind,” according to
how their choice happens to direct, or that “they have no need at
all of our philosophy” – you may perceive for the following
reasons that all these boasts are made for the sake of glory than
because those things are really believed. For we see that such men,
no matter their boasting that they have no need of philosophy, go on
offering sacrifices to the dead, slaughtering black sheep, making
libations to the gods, and turning their thoughts to religion ever
more earnestly, even when their religion has failed to prevent them
from being exiled from their country, banished far from the sight of
men, living degraded by foul charges of guilt, and sunk into every
kind of misery.
You
can best test the man when he is in doubt and danger, and when he is
amid adversity learn who he really is. For then, and not until then,
are the words of truth are forced out from the bottom of his heart.
His mask is torn off, and the reality is left. Avarice and blind lust
for honors lead unhappy men to overstep the bounds of right, and as
partners and agents of crime to strive night and day with tremendous
effort to struggle up to the summit of power. Such sores of life are
in no small measure fostered by the dread of death. For foul scorn
and knawing needs are seen to be far removed from a life of pleasure
and security, and are thought to be the same as loitering before the
gates of death.
And
men are driven on by an unreal dread, wishing to escape and keep the
gates of death far away. They amass wealth by civil bloodshed and
greedily double their riches, piling up murder on murder. Such men
cruelly celebrate the sad death of a brother, and hate and fear the
tables of their relatives. Often, from the same fear, envy causes
them to grieve, and they moan that before their very eyes another
person is powerful, famous, and walks arrayed in gorgeous dignity,
while they are wallowing in darkness and dirt. Some wear themselves
to death for the sake of statues and a famous name. Often men dread
death to such a degree that hate of life and the sight of daylight
seizes them so that in their sorrow they commit suicide, quite
forgetting that this fear of death was the source of their worries.
Fear of death prompts some men to forsake all sense of shame, and
others to burst asunder the bonds of friendship, overturning duty at
its very base. Often men even betray their country and their parents
in seeking to escape the realms of Hell. For even as children are
flurried and dread all things in the thick darkness, thus we in the
daylight fear things not a bit more to be dreaded than what children
shudder at in the dark and fancy to be real. This terror and darkness
of mind must be dispelled, not by the rays of the sun and glittering
shafts of day, but by the study of the law of Nature.
…
[94]
First I say that the mind, which we often call the understanding, in
which dwells the directing and governing principle of life, is no
less part of the man than hand and foot and eyes are part of the
whole living creature.
…..
[231]
We are not however to suppose that the nature of the mind is single.
For a certain subtle spirit mixed with heat quits men at death, and
then the heat draws air along with it, for there is no heat which
does not have air mixed with it, as its nature is rare, and many
first beginnings of air must move about through it. Thus the nature
of the mind is proved to be threefold; and yet these things all
together are not sufficient to produce sensation; since the nature of
the case does not allow that any of these can produce sense-giving
motions and the thoughts which a man turns over in his mind.
Thus
some fourth Nature must be added to these. This fourth nature has no
name, and nothing exists more nimble or more fine or of smaller or
smoother elements than this. This fourth nature transmits the
sense-giving motions through the frame; for it stirs first, as it is
made up of small particles. Next the heat and the unseen force of the
spirit receive the motions, then the air and all things are set in
action, the blood is stirred, and every part of the flesh is filled
with sensation. Last of all, whether it be pleasure or pain, the
feeling is transmitted to the bones and marrow. No pain can lightly
pierce to the bone, nor any sharp malady make its way in, without all
things being so thoroughly disordered that no room is left for life,
and the parts of the soul fly abroad through all the pores of the
body. But in most instances a stop is put to these motions on the
surface of the body, and for this reason we are able to retain life.
Now
I will try to explain in what way these things are mixed together, by
what means they are united, and when they exert their powers. The
poverty of my native language deters me against my will, but I will
touch upon them in summary fashion to the best of my ability:
The
first-beginnings are by their mutual motions interlaced in such a way
that none of them can be separated by itself, nor can the function of
any first-beginning go on when divided from the rest by any interval
– for these functions provide their several powers when of one
body. Even so, in any flesh of living creature without exception
there is smell and some color and taste, out of all of which is made
up one single body. Thus the heat and the air and the unseen power of
the spirit mix together to produce a single nature and a nimble force
which transmits to the body the origin of motion, and by this means
means sense-giving motion first arises through the body. This Nature
lurks secreted in the body’s innermost depths, and nothing in our
body is farther beneath all sight than this, which is the very soul
of the soul.
In
the same way as the power of the mind and the function of the soul
are latent in our limbs and throughout our body, and each part is
formed of small bodies, this nameless power made of minute bodies is
the very soul of the soul, reigning supreme in the whole body.
…
[320]
In many other aspects there must be differences between the varied
natures of men and the tempers which follow from these, though at
present I am unable to set forth the hidden causes of these or to
find names enough for the different shapes of the first-beginnings,
from which shapes arise the diversity of things. What I think I may
affirm, however, is this: those traces of the different natures which
reason is unable to expel from us are so exceedingly slight that
there is nothing to hinder us from living lives worthy of gods.
…
[541]
So invariably truth wins over false reason and cuts off all retreat
from the assailant, and by a two-fold refutation puts falsehood to
rout.
…
[830]
Death is nothing nothing to us, concerning us not at all, since the
nature of the mind is mortal. Think how in times gone by we felt no
distress when the Carthaginians from all sides came together to do
battle, and all things were shaken by war’s troubling uproar,
shuddering and quaking beneath high heaven, and mortal men were in
doubt which of the two peoples it would be whose empire would fall by
land and sea. So the same applies when we ourselves shall be no more,
when our body and soul are separated, out of the both of which we are
formed into a single being. You may be sure that for us, who shall
then be no more, nothing whatever can happen to excite sensation, not
if earth itself should be overturned to mingle with the sea and the
sea with heaven.
And
even supposing the nature of the mind and power of the soul do have
feeling, after they have been severed from our body, that is still
nothing to us, who by the marriage of body and soul are formed into
one single being. And even if time should gather up after our death
that material from which we are made and put it once more into the
position in which it now holds, and give the light of life to us
again – even this result even would not concern us at all. This is
because the chain of our self-consciousness has been snapped asunder,
just as we now have no concern about any life which the material from
which we are made might have held before our birth, nor do we feel
any distress about that prior life. When you look back on the whole
past course of immeasurable time, and think how many are the
combinations which the motions of matter take, you may easily believe
that the very same seeds from which we are now formed have often
before been placed in the same order in which they now are. And yet
we can recall no memory of this — a break in our existence has been
interposed, and all the materials from which we are made have
wandered to and fro, far astray from the sensations they once
produced.
For
he to whom evil befalls must exist as his own person at the time that
evil comes, if the misery and suffering are to happen to him at all.
But since death precludes this, and takes away the existence of him
on whom evil can be brought, you may be sure that we have nothing to
fear after death. He who does not exist cannot become miserable, and
once death has taken away his mortal life, it does not matter at all
whether he has lived at any other time.
Therefore
when you see a man bemoaning his hard life, worrying that after death
he shall either rot with his body laid in the grave, or be devoured
by flames, or by the jaws of wild beasts, you may be sure that there
lurks in his heart a secret fear, though he may declare that he does
not believe that any sense will remain to him after death. Such a man
does not really hold the conclusion which he professes to hold, nor
believe the principle which he professes. For such a man may profess
that his body is fully dead, but yet unconsciously imagine something
of self to survive, and worry that that birds and beasts will rend
his body after death, moaning for his end. Such a man does not
separate himself from what remains after he has died, and instead he
fancies himself to be those remains, and he stands by and impregnates
those remains with his own sensations.
For
this reason he makes much of bemoaning that he has been born mortal,
and he does not see that after death there will be no other self to
remain and lament to itself that hehas met death, and to stand and
grieve that he is lying there mangled or burnt. For if it is an evil
to be pulled about by the devouring jaws of wild beasts after death,
I cannot see why it should not be just as cruel a pain to be laid on
fires and burn in hot flames, or to be placed in honey and stifled,
or to stiffen with cold, stretched on the smooth surface of an icy
slab of stone, or to be pressed down and crushed by a load of earth
above.
Some
men say to themselves:
“No
more shall my house admit me with glad welcome, nor a virtuous wife
and sweet children run to be the first to snatch kisses and touch my
heart with joy. No more may I be prosperous in my doings, a safeguard
to my own. One disastrous day has taken from me, luckless man, all
the many prizes of life.”
But
these men do not add:
“And
now no longer does any craving for these things beset me either.”
For
if these men could rightly perceive this in thought, and follow up
the thought in words, they would release themselves from great
distress and apprehension of mind:
“You,
even as you are now, sunk in the sleep of death, shall continue so to
be so for all time to come, freed from all distressful pains. But we
who remain, with a sorrow that could not be healed, wept for you when
close you turned to an ashen heap on your funeral pile, and no length
of days shall pluck from our hearts our ever-during grief.”
To
those who mourn for the dead, this question should be asked:
“What
is there in death so extremely bitter, if it comes in the end to
sleep and rest, that anyone should pine over the dead in never-ending
sorrow?”
This
too men often love to say, when they have reclined at table, cup in
hand, and shaded their brows with crowns:
”Short
is this enjoyment for poor weak men; presently it will have passed
and never after may it be called back!”
Such
men say this as if, after their death, their chief affliction will be
thirst and parching drought, burning them up, luckless wretches, or
craving for any thing else. What folly! No one feels the need for
himself and life when mind and body are together sunk in sleep. For
all we care, this sleep might be everlasting, and no craving whatever
for ourselves would move us. And yet those first beginnings
throughout our frame wander far away from their sense-producing
motions before a man starts up from sleep and collects himself. Death
therefore must be thought to concern us much less than sleep, if less
there can be than what we see to be nothing during sleep, for a
greater dispersion of our first-beginnings follows after death, and
no one wakes up once the chill cessation of life has come.
If
Nature could suddenly utter a voice and address us in person, she
might use words such as these:
“Why
do you, O mortal, go on to such length in sickly sorrow? Why do you
bemoan and bewail death? For have you had a good life, and do you say
that the life you have lost has been welcome to you, and that your
blessings have not all been poured as if into a perforated jar, from
which they have run through and been lost to no avail? If your life
has been so blessed, why not then depart from life like a guest
filled with food and drink as if at the end of a party, and with
relief that it is over enter upon untroubled rest?”
“But
if on the other hand you have had a bad life, and all that you
enjoyed has been squandered and lost, and if life is a grievance to
you, why seek to continue that life any longer, to be wasted in its
turn and utterly lost for nothing? Why not rather make an end of life
and its troubles? For there is nothing more which I can contrive for
you to give you pleasure. All things are always the same, and even if
your body is not yet decayed with age nor worn out and exhausted, yet
all things will remain the same, even if you should outlast all men
now living — even if you should never die!”
What
answer could we give to Nature, but that her case is well-founded and
that she pleads it honestly and well?
If,
however, a man more advanced in years should complain about his death
more than is right, would Nature not with even greater cause raise
her voice in words such as these:
“Away
with thy tears, rascal; a truce to your complaining. Your death comes
after full enjoyment of all the prizes of life. Because you
nevertheless yearn for what you do not have, and despise what you do
have, life has slipped from your grasp unfinished and unsatisfied.
And now, before you expected it, death has taken its stand at your
bedside, before you can take your departure satisfied and filled with
good things. Give up those things that are unsuited to your age, and
with good grace and nobility get up and go: you must.”
Nature’s
charge would be brought with good reason, for old things must give
way and be supplanted by the new, and new things must ever be
replenished out of old things. No one is delivered over to the pit
and black Tartarus to be utterly destroyed — matter is needed for
future generations to grow. All of these, too, will follow you when
you have finished your term of life, just as all those that have come
before and after, no less than you, have and always will come to
their own ends. Thus one thing will never cease to rise out of
another — life is granted to none to possess forever, to all it is
only a loan. Think how the bygone antiquity of everlasting time
before our birth was nothing to us. Nature holds those ancient days
up to us as a mirror of the time yet to come after our death. Is
there anything in this that looks appalling, anything that appearsf
gloomy? Is this not a rest more untroubled than any sleep?
To
be sure, those things which are fabled to exist deep in Hell do in
fact exist for us in this life:
In
truth there is no Tantalus, poor wretch, numbed by groundless terror
as the story goes, fearing a huge stone hanging in the air above him.
In life, however, a baseless dread of the gods terrifies men, and the
falling rock they fear is the bad luck that chance brings to each
one.
Nor
do birds eat away into the breast of Tityos in Hell nor could they
find during eternity enough food to peck from his large breast.
However huge the bulk of his body, even if with outspread limbs he
took up the space not of nine acres, as the story goes, but of the
whole earth — even so he would not be able to endure everlasting
pain and supply food from his body forever. But in our own world we
know men such as Tityos: those who, groveling in love, or torn by
troubled thoughts from any other passion, are eaten up by bitter
anguish as if by vultures.
In
life, too, we have a Sisyphus before our eyes. Such is the man who is
bent on seeking political office, constantly seeking political power,
but who always retires defeated and disappointed. To ask for power,
empty as it is, but to never find it despite the constant chase for
it — this is forcing uphill a stone which, after all one’s
effort, rolls back again from the summit and in headlong haste finds
once again the levels of the plain.
Then
there are those men who are always feeding their insatiable desires,
who can never to fill full and satisfy it with good things, as do the
seasons of the year for us, when they come round and bring their
fruits and varied delights. These men are never filled with the
enjoyments of life, and so they are like the maidens of legend, who
keep pouring water into a perforated vessel which in spite of all
their work can never be filled.
In
addition, Cerberus and the Furies are idle tales, and Tartarus as
well, belching forth hideous fires from his throat. Such things have
never existed anywhere, and in truth can never exist. But there is in
life a dread of punishment for evil deeds: the prison, the frightful
hurling down from the rock, the scourgings, the executioners, the
dungeon of the doomed, and the torches. And even when these do not
come, yet the conscience-stricken mind torments itself with fear of
the fire and the lash, and sees no end to such punishment fearing
that those very evils will be enhanced after death.
In
these ways, the life of fools at length becomes a hell here on earth.
This
too you may sometimes say to yourself, “Even worthy Ancus has seen
his eyes close to the light, and he was a far better man than you.
And since then many other kings and potentates have been laid low.
Even that great king who once paved a way over the sea as a path for
his legions to march, and taught them to pass on foot over the
roaring of the sea, trampling on it with his horses, had the light
taken from him and shed forth his soul from his dying body. Even the
son of the Scipios, thunderbolt of war, terror of Carthage, yielded
his bones to earth just as if he were the lowest laborer. Think, too,
of the inventors of all sciences and arts, think of those such as
Homer, who was without a peer, but yet now sleeps the same sleep as
the others. Then there was Democritus who, when he found that his
memory was failing him in old age, offered up himself to death. Even
Epicurus himself, who surpassed in intellect all other men and
quenched the light of all rivals, as the sun quenches the stars,
passed away when his light of life had run its course.
Will
you then hesitate and think it a hardship for you to die? You for
whom life is not far from death even while you yet live and see the
light of day? You, who spends the greater part of your time in sleep,
and snore even when you are wide awake, and never cease seeing
visions? You, who have a mind troubled with groundless terrors, and
cannot discover what it is that troubles you? You, pitiful man that
you are, pressed on all sides with many cares, who constantly stray
due to the tumbled wanderings of your mind?
If,
just as men feel the weight of the load on their minds which
oppresses them, they would understand from what causes this load is
produced, and why such a weight lies on their hearts, they would not
spend their lives as we see most of them do. Such men never know –
any one of them – what they want, and thus always seek a change of
place as though they might there lay down their burdens. Men who are
sick of being home often issue forth from their mansions, but just as
suddently come back to it, once they find that they are no better off
abroad. Such men race to their country-house, driving his horses in
headlong haste as if hurrying to bring help to a house on fire. But
then the moment he reaches the door of his house he yawns, and sinks
heavily into sleep, seeking forgetfulness, or even in haste goes back
again to town.
In
this way each man flies from himself, but as you may be sure is
commonly the case, he cannot escape from himself, which always clings
to him against his wishes. Such a man hates himself because he is
sick, but does not know not the cause of his sickness. For if he
could rightly see into these matters, giving up all other
distractions, he would study to learn the Nature of things, since the
point at stake is his condition – not for one hour – but for
eternity: the state in which all mortals must pass all the time which
remains after death.
Once
more, what evil lust for life is this which constrains us with such
force to be so troubled by doubt and danger? A set term of life is
fixed for all mortals, and death cannot be avoided — meet it we
must. Moreover, we are always engaged in the same pursuits, and no
new pleasure is available by living on. But so long as we crave what
we lack, that desire seems to transcend all the rest. When once it is
obtained, we then crave something else, and ever does the same thirst
for life possess us, as we gape for with open mouth.
It
is quite doubtful what fortune the future will bring with it, or what
chance will bring us, or what end is at hand. Nor, by prolonging
life, do we take one moment from the time we pass in death, nor can
we by worrying spend a moment less in the eternity of death. You may
live as many generations as you please during your life, but
nonetheless everlasting death will await you. For the man who ended
his life today will be no less time in nonexistence than the man who
died many months or many years ago.
I
TRAVERSE the pathless haunts of the Pierides never yet walked by feet
of man. I love to approach the untasted springs and to drink from
them, and to cull fresh flowers and gather for my head a
distinguished crown from spots where the muses have never yet veiled
the brows of any man. This is because I teach of great things and
work to release the mind from the tight bonds of religious fears, and
because on a dark subject I pen lucid verses overlaid with the muses’
charm.
And
I teach through verse for good reason: Physicians, when they propose
to give nauseous wormwood to children, first smear the rim of the
bowl with the sweetness of honey, so that the unthinking child will
be fooled as far as his lips, and drink up the bitter medicine.
Though fooled, such child is not betrayed, but rather by such means
recovers health and strength. In the same way, since this doctrine
seems bitter to those by whom it has not been tried, and the
multitude shrinks back from it in dismay, I have resolved to set
forth to you our doctrine in sweet-toned verse, and overlay it with
the pleasant honey of the muses. By such means I aim to engage your
mind on my verses, until such time as you come to understand the
Nature of things and thoroughly grasp the the use of this knowledge.
…..
[462]
Many are the other marvels … we see which seek to shake the credit
of the senses. But such efforts are quite in vain, since the greatest
part of these cases deceive us on account of the opinions which we
add ourselves, taking things as seen which have not been seen by the
senses. For nothing is harder than to separate those facts that are
clearly true from those that are doubtful, which the mind adds
itself.
And
if a man contends that nothing can be known, he knows not whether
this contention itself can be known, since he admits that he knows
nothing. I will therefore decline to argue the question against him
who places his head where his feet should be. And yet granting that
he knows his contention to be true, I would still put this question:
Since he has never yet seen any truth in things, how does he know
what “knowing” and “not knowing” are? What has produced his
knowledge of the difference between the true and the false, and
between the doubtful and the certain?
You
will find that it is from the senses that comes all knowledge of the
true, and that the senses cannot be refuted. For that which is of
itself able to distinguish the false from the true must from the
Nature of the case be proved with a higher certainty. Well, then,
what can fairly be accounted of higher certainty than the senses?
Shall reasoning founded on the senses be able to contradict those
same senses, when that reasoning is wholly founded on the senses? If
the senses are not true, then all reasoning based on them is rendered
false. Shall the ears be able to take the eyes to task, or the sense
of touch take ears to task? Shall the sense of taste call in question
the sense of touch, or the nostrils refute it or the eyes controvert
it? Not so, for each separately has its own distinct office, each its
own power. We therefore must perceive what is soft and cold or hot by
one distinct faculty, and by another perceive the different colors of
things and thus see all objects which have color. Taste too is a
separate faculty; smells spring from one source, sounds from another.
It therefore must follow that any one sense cannot confute any other.
Nor can any sense take itself to task, since equal credit must be
assigned to it at all times. What therefore has at any time appeared
true to each sense, is true.
And
so if you find your reason is unable to explain the cause why things
which, seen close at hand, are square, but at distance appear round,
it is better, if you are at a loss for a reason, to state an
erroneous cause, than to let slip from your grasp on any side those
things which are manifestly true, and in so doing ruin the groundwork
of belief and wrench up all the foundations on which life and
existence rest. For not only would all reason give way, but life
itself would at once fall to the ground unless you choose to trust
the senses, shunning the precipices and errors of this sort that are
to be avoided, and pursuing the opposite. All that host of words
drawn out in array against the senses is quite without meaning.
Once
more: As in a building, if the rule first applied by the builder is
awry, and the square is untrue and swerves from its straight lines,
and if there is the slightest hitch in any part of the level, all the
construction must be faulty, all must be awry, crooked, sloping,
leaning forwards, leaning backwards, without symmetry, so that some
parts seem ready to fall, and others do fall, all ruined by the first
erroneous measurements. So too, all reasoning of things which is
founded on false interpretations of the senses will prove to be
distorted and false.
..
[1049]
Everyone as a rule fall towards their wound, and their blood spurts
out in the direction from whence comes the blow by which we are
struck. And if he is at close quarters, the red stream of blood
covers the foe.
Thus
he who is struck by the weapons of Venus, whatever be the object that
hits him, inclines to the direction from where he is wounded, and
yearns to unite with it and join body with body, a mute desire giving
a presage of the pleasure to come.
This
pleasure is called by us Venus; from that desire comes the Latin name
of love. From this desire first trickles into the heart a drop of
Venus’ honeyed joy, succeeded soon by chilly cares, for even when
that which you love is away, still images of it are at hand and its
sweet name is present to the ears.
But
it is best to flee such images, and scare away all that feeds love,
and turn your mind to another object. It is best to distract your
passions elsewhere and not keep your thoughts set on the object of,
for in so doing you lay up for yourself cares and unfailing pain. For
the sore gathers strength and becomes stronger by feeding, and every
day the madness grows in violence. The misery then becomes aggravated
unless you erase the first wounds by new blows, and heal them when
yet fresh, roaming elsewhere after Venus, or transfering to something
else the emotions of your mind.
And
he who shuns love is not without the fruits of Venus, but rather
seeks to enjoy only those blessings which are do not bring with them
any pain. It is certain that the pleasure from such things is more
unalloyed for the healthy-minded than for the love-sick, for in the
very moment of enjoyment the burning desire of lovers wavers and
wanders undecided, and they cannot tell what first to enjoy with eyes
and hands. What they have sought they tightly squeeze, causing pain
of body, and often imprinting their teeth on the lips, clashing mouth
to mouth in kissing. In such cases the pleasure is not pure, and
there are hidden stings which cause pain and spring those germs of
frenzy.
But
Venus with light hand breaks the force of these pains during love,
and the fond pleasure mingled therein reins in the bites, for one
hopes that from the same body from whence springs their burning
desire their flame may likewise be quenched. But Nature protests that
the very opposite is the truth, for the passion of love is the one
thing of all in which, the more we have of it, the more the breast
burns with desire.
Meat
and drink are taken into the body, and because they can fill up
certain fixed parts of it, the craving for drink and bread is easily
satisfied. But from the face and beauty of man nothing is given into
the body to enjoy but flimsy images; a sorry hope which is often
snatched away by the wind. When he is asleep a thirsty man seeks to
drink, and though the water does not quench the burning of his
thirst, he still seeks the image of waters and toils in vain as he
drinks in the midst of an imaginary stream. In the same way Venus
mocks lovers with images, for gazing upon bodies cannot satisfy them,
nor can lovers with their hands wandering undecided over the whole
body rub anything off the soft limbs of the beloved.
At
last they unite and enjoy the flower of youth, the body now
anticipating delight, with Venus is in the mood to sow the fields of
woman, and they greedily clasp each other’s body and suck each
other’s lips and breathe in, pressing teeth on each other’s
mouth. Yet all this is in vain, since they can rub nothing off nor
join their whole bodies, strive as they might to do so, as they are
greedily held in the chains of Venus while their limbs melt,
overpowered by the pleasure.
At
length when the gathered desire has passed, there follows for a brief
while a short pause in the burning passion. But then the same frenzy
returns, along with the old madness, even though they are at a loss
to know what they really desire to get, and cannot find a way to
conquer that mischief, and in such utter uncertainty they pine away
by a hidden wound.
Then
too they waste their strength and ruin themselves by the labor,
passing their lives at the beck of the other. Meanwhile their estate
melts away and is turned into Babylonian gowns; they neglect their
duties and their good name staggers and sickens. On her feet laugh
beautiful Sicyonian shoes, yes, and large emeralds with green light
set in gold, and a sea-colored dress worn constantly drinks in the
sweat.
The
noble earnings of their fathers are turned into hair-bands,
head-dresses, or sweeping robes and Alidensian dresses. Feasts are
set out with rich coverlets and foods, games, cups, perfumes, crowns,
and garlands are prepared. But all this is in vain, since out of the
well-spring of these delights rises up something bitter, to bring
pain amid the very flowers. Either the conscience-stricken mind
begins to gnaw itself with remorse to think that it is passing a life
of sloth and ruining itself in brothels, or else the lover launches
forth some statement of doubtful meaning with words that cleave to
the love-sick heart and burn like living fire, or else the lover
fancies that she casts her eyes too freely, or looks upon another,
and he sees in her face faint traces of a smile.
Such
evils as these are found even in love that is lasting and highly
prosperous. Even worse, in crossed and hopeless love are so many ills
that you may seize them with your eyes closed, as they are past
numbering. Thus it is better to watch out for these perils
beforehand, in the manner I have prescribed, and be on your guard not
to be drawn in to the danger. For to avoid falling into the snares of
love is easier than getting out of the net and breaking the strong
meshes of Venus after you are caught.
And
yet even when you are entangled and held fast, you may still escape
the mischief, unless you stand in your own way and overlook all the
defects of the mind and body of the person you woo. But men often do
this, blinded by passion, and they attribute to the beloved
advantages which are not really theirs.
We
therefore see women who are manifestly ugly to be objects of
endearment, held in the highest admiration. Some lovers jeer at
others and advise them to seek the help of Venus, since they are
troubled by a disgraceful passion, and often give no thought to their
own lover’s ugliness. The lover thinks that the beloved who is
filthy and smelly “does not have the love of cleanliness,” the
beloved who is stringy and wizened is considered to be “a gazelle;”
the beloved who is dumpy and dwarfish is considered to be “from top
to toe one of the graces;” the beloved who is big and overgrown is
considered to be “awe-inspiring and full of dignity;” the beloved
who is dumb is considered to be “bashful;” the beloved who is
teasing and gossiping is considered to be “a shining lamp;” the
beloved who cannot live from want of flesh is considered to be “a
slim darling,” and the beloved who is half-dead with cough is only
“slight” – and it is tedious to attempt to report other things
of this kind.
However,
even if she is of such great dignity of appearance that the very
power of Venus shines from all her limbs – remember that there are
others too. Remember that you lived without her before you met, and
she does all things the same as does an ugly woman, fumigating
herself, poor wretch, with nauseous perfumes, her very maids running
from her and giggling behind her back. Nevertheless the lover, when
shut out, often in tears, covers the threshold with flowers and
wreaths, and anoints the haughty doorposts with oil of marjoram,
imprinting kisses, poor wretch, on the doors. If he were once
admitted, however, and only one single breath should waft his way, he
would seek specious reasons for departing, and the long-burning wound
would fall to the ground, and he would see his folly, in that he had
attributed to her more than is right to concede to a mortal. And our
Venuses are well aware of this, so all the more they hide from those
whom they wish to retain in the chains of love with the utmost pains
all that goes on behind the scenes of life. But all this deception is
in vain, since you may still draw forth into the light all these
things that are in her mind, and see the truth behind her smiles.
Yet
if she is of a fair mind and not troublesome, overlook these games
and make allowance for human failings. For the signs of a woman are
not always deceptive when she locks the man’s body in her embrace
and joins it hers, and holding it and sucking his lips into her lips,
drinking in his kisses. Often she does it from the heart, and seeking
mutual joy courts him to run the complete race of love. And in no
other way could birds, cattle, wild beasts, sheep and mares submit to
bear the males, except because the very exuberance of nature in the
females burns and joyously draws in the males. Do you not see how
those whom mutual pleasure has chained together are often both
tortured in their common chains? How often in the highways do dogs,
desiring to separate, eagerly pull different ways with all their
might, while all the time they are held fast in the strong fetters of
Venus! This they would never do unless they experienced mutual joy
that is strong enough to force them into the snare and hold them in
its meshes. And for this reason again I repeat – there is a common
pleasure.
….
[1278]
Sometimes, not by any divine grace or arrows of Venus, a woman of
inferior beauty comes to be loved, for the wife sometimes by her own
acts and accommodating manners and by elegant neatness of person
readily habituates you to pass your life with her. Moreover, habit
renders love attractive; for that which is struck by repeated blows,
however light the force, yet after long course of time is overpowered
and gives way. Do you not see also that falling drops of water after
long course of time can even scoop a hole through stone?
WHOSE
genius is able to frame a poem worthy of the grandeur of these
discoveries? Who is so great a master of words as to be able to
compose praises equal to those which he who won such prizes and left
them to us deserves? I think no mortal man is up to the task. For if
we must speak in terms that the acknowledged grandeur of his
discoveries demands, we must consider him a god. For it was he who
first discovered that plan of life which is now termed wisdom, and
who by trained skill rescued life from such great fog and thick
darkness, and who anchored it safely in so perfect a calm and in so
brilliant a light. Compare the godlike discoveries of others in
ancient times. Ceres is famed for showing mortals the use of corn,
and Liber for showing men the vine-born juice of the grape, but life
might well have subsisted along without these things, as we are told
some nations even now live without them. But a happy life is not
possible without a clean heart, and so with greater reason this man
is deemed by us to be a god, from whom come those sweet balms of life
which even now are distributed over great nations and gently soothe
men’s minds.
If
you shall suppose that the deeds of Hercules surpass these, you will
be carried far away from true reason. For how could the great gaping
jaws of the Nemean lion harm us now, or even the bristled Arcadian
boar? What could the bull of Crete do, or the Hydra of Lerna, with
its venomous snakes? How could the triple-breasted might of threefold
Geryon that dwelt in the Stymphalian swamps do us injury, or the
horses of Thracian Diomede breathing fire from their nostrils? What
harm could the serpent which guards the bright golden apples of the
Hesperides, fierce and dangerous of aspect, girding the tree with his
enormous body beside the Atlantic shore – what harm could it do to
us, as we never go there and no barbarian ventures to approach it?
It
is the same with all other monsters of this kind which Hercules
destroyed — if they had never been vanquished, what harm could they
do, I ask, even if they were now alive? None, I think, for the earth
even now abounds with wild beasts throughout the mountains and
forests, and yet these are places which we have it within our power
to shun.
But
unless the heart is cleared, what battles and dangers find their way
into our lives! What poignant cares inspired by lust tear apart the
pitiful man, and what mighty fears and turmoil are caused by pride,
lust, and wantonness? What disasters they they bring about, and what
sloth does luxury bring! He who subdued all these and banished them
from the mind by words, not by arms – does he not deserve to be
ranked among the gods? All the more so because he delivered many
precepts in beautiful and god-like phrases about the immortal gods
themselves, and opened up to us by his teachings all of the nature of
things.
While
walking in his footsteps I follow his reasoning and teach by my
verses by what law all things are made, and by what necessity there
is for them to continue in that law, and how impotent things are to
annul the binding statutes of time. Foremost among these teachings is
that the Nature of the mind has been formed and born along with the
body, and the mind is unable to endure unscathed through eternity,
and that it is mere images which mock the mind in sleep, when we seem
to see those who have departed life.
The
order of my design has now brought me to the point where I must
proceed to show that the world also was formed of mortal bodies which
have been born from other things. I will also show in what way the
union of matter founded the earth, the heaven, the sea, the stars,
the sun, and the ball of the moon. I will also show what living
creatures sprang out of the earth, and I will show that others never
existed. I will show in what way mankind began to use speech
according to the names conferred on things, and in what way the fear
of the gods gained an entry into men’s hearts which is maintained
to this day. Further, I will make clear by what force Nature guides
the course of the sun and the moon; so that we will not imagine that
these traverse their orbits between heaven and earth of their own
free will, or by the will of any gods for the purpose of furthering
the increase of crops and living creatures.
Even
those who have been taught correctly that the gods lead a life
without care may nevertheless wonder by what plan all things are
carried on, above all in regard to those things which we see in the
sky overhead. Wonderment at such things brings the poor wretches to
believe in hard taskmasters whom they believe to be almighty, as they
do not know what can be, and what cannot be — in short, by what
system each thing has its powers defined and its boundary-mark set.
…
[156]
It is sheer folly to say that the gods, for the sake of men, have set
in order the glorious Nature of the world, and therefore it is proper
to praise their work, and to believe that the world will be eternal
and immortal. It is likewise folly to hold that it is unholy to state
that those things which are alleged to have been established on
everlasting foundations by the forethought of the gods in ancient
days will one day be utterly overturned from top to bottom. All
figments of the imagination of this kind, Memmius, are sheer folly.
For
what advantage could our gratitude bring to immortal and blessed
beings in return for which they would take the world in hand to
administer it? And what novel incident induced those beings, up to
that time so long at rest, to desire to change their former lives?
For it seems natural that one who is annoyed by old things should
rejoice in a new state of things, but for a being to whom no ill has
befallen in eternity gone past, when it passed a pleasant existence,
what could have kindled a desire to change? Did life lie groveling in
darkness and sorrow until the first dawn of the birth of the
universe? What evil would it have been for us never to have been
born? Whoever is born wants to continue in life so long as pleasures
continue, but for him who has never tasted love, and never been
entered on the lists of life, what harm would it have been never to
have been born? From where was first implanted in the gods a pattern
for creating all things, as well as the preconception of men, so that
they knew and saw in their minds what they wanted to create? And in
what way was the power of first-beginnings ever determined, and in
what way they change their mutual arrangements, unless Nature herself
gave the model for making things?
For
by Nature the the first-beginnings of things, many in number, and in
many ways, impelled by collisions from eternity past, and kept in
motion by their own weight, have been carried along and united in all
manner of ways, thoroughly testing every kind of production possible
by their mutual combinations. Thus we should not consider it strange
that all things have fallen into their present arrangements, and have
come into courses like those out of which the sum of things we now
see is carried on by constant renewing.
But
even if I did not know what first-beginnings of things are, yet
judging by the very arrangement of heaven and by many other facts I
would venture to affirm that the Nature of things was by no means
made for us by any divine power, so great are the defects with which
it is encumbered.
In
the first place, of all the space which the vast reach of heaven
covers, a portion is occupied by mountains and forests of wild
beasts. Rocks and wasteful seas take up and hold wide apart the
coasts of different lands. Nearly two thirds of the earth suffers
from burning heat and the constant fall of frost. What is left for
tillage, nature would overrun with thorns, unless the force of man
fought against it, and accustomed himself for the sake of a
livelihood to groan beneath the hoe and to cut through the earth by
pressing down on the plow. If we did not turn up the clods by
laboring on the soil, our plantings would not come up into the clear
air. Even then, at times when things earned with great toil put forth
their leaves, either the sun bums them up with excessive heat, sudden
rain or cold cut them off, or the blasts of the winds waste them by
furious hurricane.
If
all things were designed for us by the gods, why does Nature give
food and increase to the terrible wild beasts that are dangerous to
mankind both by sea and land? Why do the seasons of the year bring
disease with them? Why does untimely death stalk the earth? Observe
that the baby, soon as nature sheds him forth from his mother’s
womb in to the light, lies naked on the ground, like a sailor cast
away by the cruel waves, speechless, wanting everything needed for
life. He fills the room with a rueful waling, as well he might, given
that his destiny is to go through so many ills in life. But the young
of the flocks, the herds, and the wild beasts grow up needing no
rattles, and no need to be addressed in the fond broken accents of
the fostering nurse. Young animals do not ask for different dresses
according to the season, nor do they need weapons or walls to protect
themselves.
…
[878]
Centaurs never have existed, and never can there exist things of
twofold nature, with double body formed into one frame out of alien
limbs, because the faculties and powers of the different parts are
not sufficiently similar. However dull of understanding you may be,
you may learn this from what follows.
First,
observe that a horse when three years old is in the prime of his
vigor. Far different is a boy, and often even at that age he will
call in his sleep for the milk of the breast. Later, when in advanced
age the horse’s lusty strength and limbs ebb, then and not until
then does the flower of age commence for a boy, and clothe his cheeks
in soft down. I tell you this that you will not believe that out of
the seed of a man and a horse Centaurs can be born, or that Scyllas
with bodies half of fish and half of dogs, or any such other similar
thing whose limbs we see cannot harmonize together. For these neither
come to their flower at the same time, nor reach the fullness of
bodily strength, nor lose it in advanced old age, nor burn with
similar passions, nor have compatible manners, nor feel the same
things as giving pleasure.
Thus
we see bearded goats fatten on hemlock which is poison for a man.
Since flame will scorch and burn the bodies of lions just as much as
any other kind of flesh, how could it be that a single chimera with
the body of a lion, a dragon, and a goat could breathe fire from its
mouth? This is why he is wrong who imagines that when the earth was
first formed such living creatures could have been begotten, resting
upon the futile thought that the world was “new.” Such men babble
out many similar things, saying that rivers ran with gold and that
trees blossomed with precious stones, or that men were born with such
giant frame that they could wade on foot across seas and whirl heaven
about them with their hands. The fact that there were many seeds of
things in the earth when it first brought forth living creatures does
not prove that the earth could have produced beasts of different
kinds mixed together. The limbs of different living things cannot be
formed into a single frame, because the kinds of plants and trees
which even now spring of the earth are not seen to be produced with
the several sorts woven into one, but each thing goes on after its
own fashion, and all preserve their distinctive differences according
to a fixed law of Nature.
….
[1117]
Were a man to order his life by the rule of true reason, a frugal
subsistence joined to a contented mind is for him great riches, for
never is there any lack of a little. But men desire to be famous and
powerful in order that their fortunes might rest on a firm
foundation, and that they might be able by their wealth to lead a
tranquil life. This is in vain, since their struggle to mount up to
the heights of power renders their path full of danger. Even if they
reach it, envy, like a thunderbolt, strikes men from the summit and
dashes them down with ignominy into the roar of Tartarus. The highest
summits, and those elevated above other things, are often blasted by
envy as if by a thunderbolt, so it is better it is to obey in peace
and quiet than to wish to rule with supreme power and be the master
of kingdoms. Therefore let such men wear themselves out to no purpose
and sweat drops of blood as they struggle on along the road of
ambition, since they gather their knowledge from the mouths of others
and follow after hearsay, rather than following the dictates of their
own feelings. This course does not prevail now, nor will it prevail
in the future any more than it has prevailed in the past.
…
[1161]
What cause has spread over great nations the worship of the gods, and
filled the towns with altars? What cause has led to the performance
of the sacred rites which are now in fashion, and which implant in
mortals a shuddering awe to raise new temples to the gods over the
whole earth, and to crowd them on festive days?
Even
in earliest days the races of mortal men would see glorious forms
while awake, and in sleep forms of yet more marvelous size of body.
To these they would attribute life, because they seemed to move their
limbs and to utter lofty words suitable to their glorious aspect and
surpassing powers. And they attribute to them immortality, because
their faces would continue to appear before them and their forms
abide, and because they would not believe that beings possessed of
such powers could be overcome by any force. And men believed them to
be preeminent in bliss, because none of them was ever troubled by the
fear of death, and because in sleep they would see them perform many
miracles, yet feel no fatigue from the effort. And men would see the
heaven and seasons of the years come around in regular succession,
but could not find out the cause, and so they sought a refuge by
handing over all things to the gods, and supposing all things to be
guided by their approval. And men placed the abodes of the gods in
heaven the sun, the clouds, the rains, the winds, and all things of
that sort are seen to wander through the heavens
How
unfortunate for men that they they charged the gods with control of
the universe and coupled with that power bitter wrath! What groanings
did they then beget for themselves, what wounds for us, what tears
for our children’s children! It is no act of piety to be seen with
veiled head, turning to a stone and approaching every altar, falling
prostrate on the ground, spreading out the palms before the statues
of the gods, sprinkling the altars with the blood of beasts, and
linking vow on to vow. Rather, true piety is to be able to look on
all things with a mind at peace.
When
we turn our gaze on the heavens far above the glittering stars, and
direct our thoughts to the courses of the sun and moon, into our
hearts, burdened as they are with other ills, the fear of the gods
enters, we begin to believe that the power of the gods is unlimited,
and that they wheel the stars about in their varied motions. This is
because the lack of power to solve the question troubles the mind
with doubts, and we wonder whether there was ever a birth-time of the
world, and whether likewise there is to be any end, and how long the
world can endure this strain of restless motion, or whether by the
grace of the gods with an everlasting existence the world may glide
on through eternity and defy the power of immeasurable ages.
Who
is there whose mind does not shrink with fear of the gods, whose
limbs do not cower in terror, when the earth rocks with the appalling
thunderstroke and the roaring runs through the heavens? Do not
peoples and nations quake, and are not proud monarchs smitten with
fear of the gods, worrying that for some foul transgression or
unrighteous word the time of final reckoning has arrived? When the
fury of the wind passes over the sea and sweeps over its waters the
commander of a fleet, along with his mighty legions and elephants,
does he not vow to seek the mercy of the gods and ask in prayer with
fear and trembling for a lull in the gales and for favorable winds?
Even so the commander asks in vain, for regardless of his prayers he
is often is caught up in the furious hurricane and carried to the
shoals of death. Constantly some hidden power seems to trample on
human grandeur, and treads under its heel to make sport for itself
the renowned rods and cruel axes. And when the whole earth rocks
under their feet and towns tumble with the shock, is it any wonder
that mortal men abase themselves and ascribe to the gods marvelous
powers here on earth that are sufficient to govern all things?
….
In
days of legend, the renowned city of Athens first showed suffering
men the use of corn-producing crop, and showed them a new model of
life based on laws. Athens was also the first to bestow on man the
sweetest solaces of existence, by giving birth to a man who showed
himself gifted with great genius, who poured forth all knowledge from
his truth-telling mouth, and whose glory, on account of his godlike
discoveries, is spread abroad among men and reaches high as heaven
even now that he is dead.
For
this man saw that the things which men’s needs demand for life had
all been provided, and that life, so far as was possible, was placed
on a sure footing. He saw that men were great in riches and honors
and glory, and that they swelled with pride in the high reputation of
their children. Yet he saw also that all these riches did not quiet
men’s hearts, and that their troubles plagued their lives with no
respite, and that they were constrained to complain of their great
distress. Seeing these things, he perceived that the vessel itself
caused the corruption, and that by its corruption all the things that
were gathered into it, however salutary, were spoiled. He saw that
this was partly because the vessel was leaky and full of holes, so
that it could never by any means be filled full, and partly because
the vessel was befouled, so to speak, with a nauseous flavor that
contaminated everything which it took in.
He
therefore cleansed men’s heart with true precepts, and showed the
limit to lust and fear, and he explained the chief good toward which
we all strive and the direct course by which we might arrive at it.
He showed too what evils Nature allows to exist by chance or force in
mortal affairs, and from which gates you must sally out to battle
each one. Then he also proved that the melancholy tumbling billows of
care that plague the hearts of man for the most part need not arise.
For even as children are flurried and dread all things in the thick
darkness, so we in the daylight fear at times things not a bit more
to be dreaded than what children imagine and shudder at in the dark,
and fancy to be real. This terror and darkness of mind must be
dispelled, not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of day,
but by the study of the law of Nature. And now the more eagerly I go
on in my verses to complete the web of my design.
Since
I have shown that the heavens had a birth and are mortal, and since I
have unraveled most of all the things which must by nature go on
within it, hear further what remains to be told.
Once
more I will mount the illustrious chariot of the muses, and ascend to
heaven to explain the true law of winds and storms, which men
foolishly lay to the charge of the gods. I will tell how, when the
winds are angry, they raise fierce tempests, and when there is a lull
in their fury, how that anger is appeased, and how the omens presaged
their fury have thus been appeased. I will at the same time explain
all those other things which mortals observe upon earth and in heaven
which abase their souls with fear of the gods. Such things weigh men
down and press them to earth because ignorance of their causes
constrain men to submit things to the empire of the gods, and to give
over to the gods the kingdom of the universe.
For
we observe that even those who have been rightly taught that the gods
lead a life without care are carried back again into their old
religious scruples, if they fear how all things are carried on
overhead. Such men, poor wretches, take unto themselves hard
taskmasters, whom they believe to be almighty, because they do not
understand what can be, and what cannot be, and on what principle
each thing has its powers defined and its boundaries marked. And
these men are led all the farther astray by blind reasoning.
Unless
you drive from your mind with disgust all these things, and banish
far from you all belief in things degrading to the gods and
inconsistent with their peace, then holy gods, having their majesty
lessened by you, will do you harm. This is not because the supreme
power of the gods can be outraged and in their wrath will resolve to
exact vengeance against you, but because you will fancy to yourself
that they do send billows of wrath against you, even though in
reality they enjoy full calm and peace. Nor will you be able to
approach the altars of the gods with a calm heart, or will you be
able to receive with tranquil peace of mind those images of the
diving form which are carried from them into the minds of men. And
what kind of life follows after this you may easily conceive.
But
I write this poem in order that most truthful reason may drive these
things far away from us. Though much has already gone forth from me,
much still remains and has to be embellished in smooth-polished
verses. I must speak of the law and sights of heaven that must be
grasped; of storms and bright lightnings, and of what they do and
from what cause they are carried along. All this has to be sung that
you will not mark out the heaven into quarters and be startled and
distracted on seeing from which of them the fires flash, or to which
of the two halves those fires take themselves. I must show in what
way the heavenly fires gained entrance within walled places, and how,
it gets itself out from these. And so, muse Calliope, solace of men
and joy of gods, do point out to me the course ahead as I race toward
the white boundary-line of the final goal, that under thy guidance I
may win the crown with great applause.
