BOOK NINETEENTH.

Argument

IN THIS BOOK THE END OF THE TWO CITIES, THE EARTHLY AND THE HEAVENLY,
IS DISCUSSED. AUGUSTINE REVIEWS THE OPINIONS OF THE PHILOSOPHERS
REGARDING THE SUPREME GOOD, AND THEIR VAIN EFFORTS TO MAKE FOR
THEMSELVES A HAPPINESS IN THIS LIFE; AND, WHILE HE REFUTES THESE,
HE TAKES OCCASION TO SHOW WHAT THE PEACE AND HAPPINESS BELONGING
TO THE HEAVENLY CITY, OR THE PEOPLE OF CHRIST, ARE BOTH NOW
AND HEREAFTER.

1. That Varro has made out that two hundred and eighty-eight different sects
of philosophy might be formed by the various opinions regarding the
supreme good.

As I see that I have still to discuss the fit destinies of the
two cities, the earthly and the heavenly, I must first
explain, so far as the limits of this work allow me, the reasonings
by which men have attempted to make for themselves a
happiness in this unhappy life, in order that it may be evident,
not only from divine authority, but also from such reasons
as can be adduced to unbelievers, how the empty dreams of
the philosophers differ from the hope which God gives to us,
and from the substantial fulfilment of it which He will give
us as our blessedness. Philosophers have expressed a great
variety of diverse opinions regarding the ends of goods and of
evils, and this question they have eagerly canvassed, that they
might, if possible, discover what makes a man happy. For
the end of our good is that for the sake of which other things
are to be desired, while it is to be desired for its own sake;
and the end of evil is that on account of which other things
are to be shunned, while it is avoided on its own account.
Thus, by the end of good, we at present mean, not that by
which good is destroyed, so that it no longer exists, but that
by which it is finished, so that it becomes complete; and by
the end of evil we mean, not that which abolishes it, but that
which completes its development. These two ends, therefore,
are the supreme good and the supreme evil; and, as I have[Pg 294]
said, those who have in this vain life professed the study of
wisdom have been at great pains to discover these ends, and
to obtain the supreme good and avoid the supreme evil in
this life. And although they erred in a variety of ways, yet
natural insight has prevented them from wandering from the
truth so far that they have not placed the supreme good and
evil, some in the soul, some in the body, and some in both.
From this tripartite distribution of the sects of philosophy,
Marcus Varro, in his book De Philosophia,[619] has drawn so large
a variety of opinions, that, by a subtle and minute analysis of
distinctions, he numbers without difficulty as many as 288
sects,—not that these have actually existed, but sects which
are possible.

To illustrate briefly what he means, I must begin with his
own introductory statement in the above-mentioned book,
that there are four things which men desire, as it were by
nature without a master, without the help of any instruction,
without industry or the art of living which is called virtue,
and which is certainly learned:[620] either pleasure, which is
an agreeable stirring of the bodily sense; or repose, which
excludes every bodily inconvenience; or both these, which
Epicurus calls by the one name, pleasure; or the primary
objects of nature,[621] which comprehend the things already named
and other things, either bodily, such as health, and safety, and
integrity of the members, or spiritual, such as the greater and
less mental gifts that are found in men. Now these four
things—pleasure, repose, the two combined, and the primary
objects of nature—exist in us in such sort that we must either
desire virtue on their account, or them for the sake of virtue,
or both for their own sake; and consequently there arise from
this distinction twelve sects, for each is by this consideration
tripled. I will illustrate this in one instance, and, having
done so, it will not be difficult to understand the others.
According, then, as bodily pleasure is subjected, preferred, or
united to virtue, there are three sects. It is subjected to
virtue when it is chosen as subservient to virtue. Thus it is[Pg 295]
a duty of virtue to live for one’s country, and for its sake to
beget children, neither of which can be done without bodily
pleasure. For there is pleasure in eating and drinking, pleasure
also in sexual intercourse. But when it is preferred to
virtue, it is desired for its own sake, and virtue is chosen only
for its sake, and to effect nothing else than the attainment or
preservation of bodily pleasure. And this, indeed, is to make
life hideous; for where virtue is the slave of pleasure it no
longer deserves the name of virtue. Yet even this disgraceful
distortion has found some philosophers to patronize and
defend it. Then virtue is united to pleasure when neither is
desired for the other’s sake, but both for their own. And
therefore, as pleasure, according as it is subjected, preferred, or
united to virtue, makes three sects, so also do repose, pleasure
and repose combined, and the prime natural blessings,
make their three sects each. For as men’s opinions vary, and
these four things are sometimes subjected, sometimes preferred,
and sometimes united to virtue, there are produced twelve
sects. But this number again is doubled by the addition of
one difference, viz. the social life; for whoever attaches himself
to any of these sects does so either for his own sake alone,
or for the sake of a companion, for whom he ought to wish
what he desires for himself. And thus there will be twelve
of those who think some one of these opinions should be held
for their own sakes, and other twelve who decide that they
ought to follow this or that philosophy not for their own sakes
only, but also for the sake of others whose good they desire as
their own. These twenty-four sects again are doubled, and
become forty-eight by adding a difference taken from the New
Academy. For each of these four and twenty sects can hold
and defend their opinion as certain, as the Stoics defended the
position that the supreme good of man consisted solely in
virtue; or they can be held as probable, but not certain, as
the New Academics did. There are, therefore, twenty-four
who hold their philosophy as certainly true, other twenty-four
who hold their opinions as probable, but not certain.
Again, as each person who attaches himself to any of these
sects may adopt the mode of life either of the Cynics or of
the other philosophers, this distinction will double the number,[Pg 296]
and so make ninety-six sects. Then, lastly, as each of these
sects may be adhered to either by men who love a life of ease,
as those who have through choice or necessity addicted themselves
to study, or by men who love a busy life, as those who,
while philosophizing, have been much occupied with state
affairs and public business, or by men who choose a mixed life,
in imitation of those who have apportioned their time partly
to erudite leisure, partly to necessary business: by these differences
the number of the sects is tripled, and becomes 288.

I have thus, as briefly and lucidly as I could, given in my
own words the opinions which Varro expresses in his book.
But how he refutes all the rest of these sects, and chooses one,
the Old Academy, instituted by Plato, and continuing to
Polemo, the fourth teacher of that school of philosophy which
held that their system was certain; and how on this ground
he distinguishes it from the New Academy,[622] which began with
Polemo’s successor Arcesilaus, and held that all things are uncertain;
and how he seeks to establish that the Old Academy
was as free from error as from doubt,—all this, I say, were too
long to enter upon in detail, and yet I must not altogether
pass it by in silence. Varro then rejects, as a first step, all
those differences which have multiplied the number of sects;
and the ground on which he does so is that they are not differences
about the supreme good. He maintains that in
philosophy a sect is created only by its having an opinion of
its own different from other schools on the point of the ends-in-chief.
For man has no other reason for philosophizing
than that he may be happy; but that which makes him happy
is itself the supreme good. In other words, the supreme good
is the reason of philosophizing; and therefore that cannot be
called a sect of philosophy which pursues no way of its own
towards the supreme good. Thus, when it is asked whether a
wise man will adopt the social life, and desire and be interested
in the supreme good of his friend as in his own, or
will, on the contrary, do all that he does merely for his own
sake, there is no question here about the supreme good, but
only about the propriety of associating or not associating a
friend in its participation: whether the wise man will do this[Pg 297]
not for his own sake, but for the sake of his friend in whose
good he delights as in his own. So, too, when it is asked
whether all things about which philosophy is concerned are
to be considered uncertain, as by the New Academy, or certain,
as the other philosophers maintain, the question here is
not what end should be pursued, but whether or not we are to
believe in the substantial existence of that end; or, to put it
more plainly, whether he who pursues the supreme good must
maintain that it is a true good, or only that it appears to him
to be true, though possibly it may be delusive,—both pursuing
one and the same good. The distinction, too, which is founded
on the dress and manners of the Cynics, does not touch the
question of the chief good, but only the question whether he
who pursues that good which seems to himself true should
live as do the Cynics. There were, in fact, men who, though
they pursued different things as the supreme good, some
choosing pleasure, others virtue, yet adopted that mode of life
which gave the Cynics their name. Thus, whatever it is
which distinguishes the Cynics from other philosophers, this
has no bearing on the choice and pursuit of that good which
constitutes happiness. For if it had any such bearing, then
the same habits of life would necessitate the pursuit of the
same chief good, and diverse habits would necessitate the pursuit
of different ends.

2. How Varro, by removing all the differences which do not form sects, but are
merely secondary questions, reaches three definitions of the chief good, of
which we must choose one.

The same may be said of those three kinds of life, the life
of studious leisure and search after truth, the life of easy
engagement in affairs, and the life in which both these are
mingled. When it is asked, which of these should be adopted,
this involves no controversy about the end of good, but inquires
which of these three puts a man in the best position for finding
and retaining the supreme good. For this good, as soon as
a man finds it, makes him happy; but lettered leisure, or public
business, or the alternation of these, do not necessarily constitute
happiness. Many, in fact, find it possible to adopt one
or other of these modes of life, and yet to miss what makes a
man happy. The question, therefore, regarding the supreme[Pg 298]
good and the supreme evil, and which distinguishes sects of
philosophy, is one; and these questions concerning the social
life, the doubt of the Academy, the dress and food of the
Cynics, the three modes of life—the active, the contemplative,
and the mixed—these are different questions, into none of
which the question of the chief good enters. And therefore,
as Marcus Varro multiplied the sects to the number of 288
(or whatever larger number he chose) by introducing these
four differences derived from the social life, the New Academy,
the Cynics, and the threefold form of life, so, by removing
these differences as having no bearing on the supreme good,
and as therefore not constituting what can properly be called
sects, he returns to those twelve schools which concern themselves
with inquiring what that good is which makes man
happy, and he shows that one of these is true, the rest false.
In other words, he dismisses the distinction founded on the
threefold mode of life, and so decreases the whole number by
two-thirds, reducing the sects to ninety-six. Then, putting
aside the Cynic peculiarities, the number decreases by a half,
to forty-eight. Taking away next the distinction occasioned
by the hesitancy of the New Academy, the number is again
halved, and reduced to twenty-four. Treating in a similar
way the diversity introduced by the consideration of the
social life, there are left but twelve, which this difference had
doubled to twenty-four. Regarding these twelve, no reason
can be assigned why they should not be called sects. For in
them the sole inquiry is regarding the supreme good and the
ultimate evil,—that is to say, regarding the supreme good, for
this being found, the opposite evil is thereby found. Now, to
make these twelve sects, he multiplies by three these four
things—pleasure, repose, pleasure and repose combined, and the
primary objects of nature which Varro calls primigenia. For
as these four things are sometimes subordinated to virtue, so
that they seem to be desired not for their own sake, but for
virtue’s sake; sometimes preferred to it, so that virtue seems
to be necessary not on its own account, but in order to attain
these things; sometimes joined with it, so that both they and
virtue are desired for their own sakes,—we must multiply the
four by three, and thus we get twelve sects. But from those[Pg 299]
four things Varro eliminates three—pleasure, repose, pleasure
and repose combined—not because he thinks these are not
worthy of the place assigned them, but because they are
included in the primary objects of nature. And what need
is there, at any rate, to make a threefold division out of these
two ends, pleasure and repose, taking them first severally and
then conjunctly, since both they, and many other things besides,
are comprehended in the primary objects of nature? Which
of the three remaining sects must be chosen? This is the
question that Varro dwells upon. For whether one of these
three or some other be chosen, reason forbids that more than
one be true. This we shall afterwards see; but meanwhile
let us explain as briefly and distinctly as we can how Varro
makes his selection from these three, that is, from the sects
which severally hold that the primary objects of nature are to
be desired for virtue’s sake, that virtue is to be desired for
their sake, and that virtue and these objects are to be desired
each for their own sake.

3. Which of the three leading opinions regarding the chief good should be preferred,
according to Varro, who follows Antiochus and the Old Academy.

Which of these three is true and to be adopted he attempts
to show in the following manner. As it is the supreme
good, not of a tree, or of a beast, or of a god, but of man,
that philosophy is in quest of, he thinks that, first of all,
we must define man. He is of opinion that there are two
parts in human nature, body and soul, and makes no doubt
that of these two the soul is the better and by far the more
worthy part. But whether the soul alone is the man, so that
the body holds the same relation to it as a horse to the
horseman, this he thinks has to be ascertained. The horseman
is not a horse and a man, but only a man, yet he is
called a horseman, because he is in some relation to the horse.
Again, is the body alone the man, having a relation to the
soul such as the cup has to the drink? For it is not the cup
and the drink it contains which are called the cup, but the
cup alone; yet it is so called because it is made to hold the
drink. Or, lastly, is it neither the soul alone nor the body
alone, but both together, which are man, the body and the soul
being each a part, but the whole man being both together, as[Pg 300]
we call two horses yoked together a pair, of which pair the
near and the off horse is each a part, but we do not call either
of them, no matter how connected with the other, a pair, but
only both together? Of these three alternatives, then, Varro
chooses the third, that man is neither the body alone, nor the
soul alone, but both together. And therefore the highest good,
in which lies the happiness of man, is composed of goods
of both kinds, both bodily and spiritual. And consequently
he thinks that the primary objects of nature are to be sought
for their own sake, and that virtue, which is the art of living,
and can be communicated by instruction, is the most excellent
of spiritual goods. This virtue, then, or art of regulating life,
when it has received these primary objects of nature which
existed independently of it, and prior to any instruction,
seeks them all, and itself also, for its own sake; and it uses
them, as it also uses itself, that from them all it may derive
profit and enjoyment, greater or less, according as they are
themselves greater or less; and while it takes pleasure in all
of them, it despises the less that it may obtain or retain the
greater when occasion demands. Now, of all goods, spiritual
or bodily, there is none at all to compare with virtue. For
virtue makes a good use both of itself and of all other goods
in which lies man’s happiness; and where it is absent, no
matter how many good things a man has, they are not for his
good, and consequently should not be called good things while
they belong to one who makes them useless by using them
badly. The life of man, then, is called happy when it enjoys
virtue and these other spiritual and bodily good things without
which virtue is impossible. It is called happier if it enjoys
some or many other good things which are not essential to
virtue; and happiest of all, if it lacks not one of the good
things which pertain to the body and the soul. For life is
not the same thing as virtue, since not every life, but a wisely
regulated life, is virtue; and yet, while there can be life of
some kind without virtue, there cannot be virtue without life.
This I might apply to memory and reason, and such mental
faculties; for these exist prior to instruction, and without them
there cannot be any instruction, and consequently no virtue,
since virtue is learned. But bodily advantages, such as swiftness[Pg 301]
of foot, beauty, or strength, are not essential to virtue,
neither is virtue essential to them, and yet they are good
things; and, according to our philosophers, even these advantages
are desired by virtue for its own sake, and are used and
enjoyed by it in a becoming manner.

They say that this happy life is also social, and loves the
advantages of its friends as its own, and for their sake wishes
for them what it desires for itself, whether these friends live
in the same family, as a wife, children, domestics; or in the
locality where one’s home is, as the citizens of the same town;
or in the world at large, as the nations bound in common human
brotherhood; or in the universe itself, comprehended in the
heavens and the earth, as those whom they call gods, and
provide as friends for the wise man, and whom we more
familiarly call angels. Moreover, they say that, regarding the
supreme good and evil, there is no room for doubt, and that
they therefore differ from the New Academy in this respect,
and they are not concerned whether a philosopher pursues
those ends which they think true in the Cynic dress and
manner of life or in some other. And, lastly, in regard to
the three modes of life, the contemplative, the active, and the
composite, they declare in favour of the third. That these
were the opinions and doctrines of the Old Academy, Varro
asserts on the authority of Antiochus, Cicero’s master and his
own, though Cicero makes him out to have been more frequently
in accordance with the Stoics than with the Old Academy.
But of what importance is this to us, who ought to judge the
matter on its own merits, rather than to understand accurately
what different men have thought about it?

4. What the Christians believe regarding the supreme good and evil, in opposition
to the philosophers, who have maintained that the supreme good is in
themselves.

If, then, we be asked what the city of God has to say
upon these points, and, in the first place, what its opinion
regarding the supreme good and evil is, it will reply that life
eternal is the supreme good, death eternal the supreme evil,
and that to obtain the one and escape the other we must live
rightly. And thus it is written, “The just lives by faith,”[623] for[Pg 302]
we do not as yet see our good, and must therefore live by
faith; neither have we in ourselves power to live rightly, but
can do so only if He who has given us faith to believe in His
help do help us when we believe and pray. As for those who
have supposed that the sovereign good and evil are to be
found in this life, and have placed it either in the soul or the
body, or in both, or, to speak more explicitly, either in pleasure
or in virtue, or in both; in repose or in virtue, or in
both; in pleasure and repose, or in virtue, or in all combined;
in the primary objects of nature, or in virtue, or in both,—all
these have, with a marvellous shallowness, sought to find their
blessedness in this life and in themselves. Contempt has
been poured upon such ideas by the Truth, saying by the prophet,
“The Lord knoweth the thoughts of men” (or, as the
Apostle Paul cites the passage, “The Lord knoweth the
thoughts of the wise“) “that they are vain.”[624]

For what flood of eloquence can suffice to detail the miseries
of this life? Cicero, in the Consolation on the death of his
daughter, has spent all his ability in lamentation; but how
inadequate was even his ability here? For when, where,
how, in this life can these primary objects of nature be possessed
so that they may not be assailed by unforeseen accidents?
Is the body of the wise man exempt from any pain
which may dispel pleasure, from any disquietude which may
banish repose? The amputation or decay of the members of
the body puts an end to its integrity, deformity blights its
beauty, weakness its health, lassitude its vigour, sleepiness or
sluggishness its activity,—and which of these is it that may
not assail the flesh of the wise man? Comely and fitting attitudes
and movements of the body are numbered among the
prime natural blessings; but what if some sickness makes the
members tremble? what if a man suffers from curvature of
the spine to such an extent that his hands reach the ground,
and he goes upon all-fours like a quadruped? Does not this
destroy all beauty and grace in the body, whether at rest or in
motion? What shall I say of the fundamental blessings of
the soul, sense and intellect, of which the one is given for the
perception, and the other for the comprehension of truth?[Pg 303]
But what kind of sense is it that remains when a man becomes
deaf and blind? where are reason and intellect when
disease makes a man delirious? We can scarcely, or not at
all, refrain from tears, when we think of or see the actions and
words of such frantic persons, and consider how different from
and even opposed to their own sober judgment and ordinary
conduct their present demeanour is. And what shall I say of
those who suffer from demoniacal possession? Where is their
own intelligence hidden and buried while the malignant spirit
is using their body and soul according to his own will? And
who is quite sure that no such thing can happen to the wise
man in this life? Then, as to the perception of truth, what
can we hope for even in this way while in the body, as we read
in the true book of Wisdom, “The corruptible body weigheth
down the soul, and the earthly tabernacle presseth down the
mind that museth upon many things?”[625] And eagerness,
or desire of action, if this is the right meaning to put upon
the Greek ὁρμή, is also reckoned among the primary advantages
of nature; and yet is it not this which produces those
pitiable movements of the insane, and those actions which we
shudder to see, when sense is deceived and reason deranged?

In fine, virtue itself, which is not among the primary objects
of nature, but succeeds to them as the result of learning, though
it holds the highest place among human good things, what is
its occupation save to wage perpetual war with vices,—not
those that are outside of us, but within; not other men’s, but
our own,—a war which is waged especially by that virtue
which the Greeks call σωφροσύνη, and we temperance,[626] and
which bridles carnal lusts, and prevents them from winning
the consent of the spirit to wicked deeds? For we must not
fancy that there is no vice in us, when, as the apostle says,
“The flesh lusteth against the spirit;”[627] for to this vice there is
a contrary virtue, when, as the same writer says, “The spirit
lusteth against the flesh.” “For these two,” he says, “are contrary
one to the other, so that you cannot do the things which
you would.” But what is it we wish to do when we seek to
attain the supreme good, unless that the flesh should cease
to lust against the spirit, and that there be no vice in us[Pg 304]
against which the spirit may lust? And as we cannot attain
to this in the present life, however ardently we desire it,
let us by God’s help accomplish at least this, to preserve the
soul from succumbing and yielding to the flesh that lusts
against it, and to refuse our consent to the perpetration of
sin. Far be it from us, then, to fancy that while we are still
engaged in this intestine war, we have already found the
happiness which we seek to reach by victory. And who is
there so wise that he has no conflict at all to maintain against
his vices?

What shall I say of that virtue which is called prudence?
Is not all its vigilance spent in the discernment of good from
evil things, so that no mistake may be admitted about what
we should desire and what avoid? And thus it is itself a
proof that we are in the midst of evils, or that evils are in us;
for it teaches us that it is an evil to consent to sin, and a
good to refuse this consent. And yet this evil, to which prudence
teaches and temperance enables us not to consent, is
removed from this life neither by prudence nor by temperance.
And justice, whose office it is to render to every man
his due, whereby there is in man himself a certain just order
of nature, so that the soul is subjected to God, and the flesh
to the soul, and consequently both soul and flesh to God,—does
not this virtue demonstrate that it is as yet rather labouring
towards its end than resting in its finished work? For
the soul is so much the less subjected to God as it is less
occupied with the thought of God; and the flesh is so much the
less subjected to the spirit as it lusts more vehemently against
the spirit. So long, therefore, as we are beset by this weakness,
this plague, this disease, how shall we dare to say that we are
safe? and if not safe, then how can we be already enjoying
our final beatitude? Then that virtue which goes by the
name of fortitude is the plainest proof of the ills of life, for
it is these ills which it is compelled to bear patiently. And
this holds good, no matter though the ripest wisdom co-exists
with it. And I am at a loss to understand how the Stoic
philosophers can presume to say that these are no ills, though
at the same time they allow the wise man to commit suicide
and pass out of this life if they become so grievous that he[Pg 305]
cannot or ought not to endure them. But such is the stupid
pride of these men who fancy that the supreme good can be
found in this life, and that they can become happy by their
own resources, that their wise man, or at least the man whom
they fancifully depict as such, is always happy, even though
he become blind, deaf, dumb, mutilated, racked with pains,
or suffer any conceivable calamity such as may compel him to
make away with himself; and they are not ashamed to call
the life that is beset with these evils happy. O happy life,
which seeks the aid of death to end it! If it is happy, let the
wise man remain in it; but if these ills drive him out of
it, in what sense is it happy? Or how can they say that
these are not evils which conquer the virtue of fortitude, and
force it not only to yield, but so to rave that it in one
breath calls life happy and recommends it to be given up?
For who is so blind as not to see that if it were happy it
would not be fled from? And if they say we should flee
from it on account of the infirmities that beset it, why then
do they not lower their pride and acknowledge that it is
miserable? Was it, I would ask, fortitude or weakness which
prompted Cato to kill himself? for he would not have done
so had he not been too weak to endure Cæsar’s victory.
Where, then, is his fortitude? It has yielded, it has succumbed,
it has been so thoroughly overcome as to abandon,
forsake, flee this happy life. Or was it no longer happy?
Then it was miserable. How, then, were these not evils
which made life miserable, and a thing to be escaped from?

And therefore those who admit that these are evils, as the
Peripatetics do, and the Old Academy, the sect which Varro
advocates, express a more intelligible doctrine; but theirs
also is a surprising mistake, for they contend that this is a
happy life which is beset by these evils, even though they be
so great that he who endures them should commit suicide to
escape them. “Pains and anguish of body,” says Varro, “are
evils, and so much the worse in proportion to their severity;
and to escape them you must quit this life.” What life, I
pray? This life, he says, which is oppressed by such evils.
Then it is happy in the midst of these very evils on account
of which you say we must quit it? Or do you call it happy[Pg 306]
because you are at liberty to escape these evils by death?
What, then, if by some secret judgment of God you were
held fast and not permitted to die, nor suffered to live without
these evils? In that case, at least, you would say that
such a life was miserable. It is soon relinquished, no doubt,
but this does not make it not miserable; for were it eternal,
you yourself would pronounce it miserable. Its brevity,
therefore, does not clear it of misery; neither ought it to be
called happiness because it is a brief misery. Certainly there
is a mighty force in these evils which compel a man—according
to them, even a wise man—to cease to be a man that he
may escape them, though they say, and say truly, that it is
as it were the first and strongest demand of nature that a
man cherish himself, and naturally therefore avoid death, and
should so stand his own friend as to wish and vehemently
aim at continuing to exist as a living creature, and subsisting
in this union of soul and body. There is a mighty force in
these evils to overcome this natural instinct by which death
is by every means and with all a man’s efforts avoided, and
to overcome it so completely that what was avoided is desired,
sought after, and if it cannot in any other way be obtained,
is inflicted by the man on himself. There is a mighty force
in these evils which make fortitude a homicide,—if, indeed,
that is to be called fortitude which is so thoroughly overcome
by these evils, that it not only cannot preserve by patience
the man whom it undertook to govern and defend, but is
itself obliged to kill him. The wise man, I admit, ought to
bear death with patience, but when it is inflicted by another.
If, then, as these men maintain, he is obliged to inflict it on
himself, certainly it must be owned that the ills which compel
him to this are not only evils, but intolerable evils. The
life, then, which is either subject to accidents, or environed
with evils so considerable and grievous, could never have been
called happy, if the men who give it this name had condescended
to yield to the truth, and to be conquered by valid
arguments, when they inquired after the happy life, as they
yield to unhappiness, and are overcome by overwhelming
evils, when they put themselves to death, and if they had not
fancied that the supreme good was to be found in this mortal[Pg 307]
life; for the very virtues of this life, which are certainly its
best and most useful possessions, are all the more telling
proofs of its miseries in proportion as they are helpful against
the violence of its dangers, toils, and woes. For if these are
true virtues,—and such cannot exist save in those who have
true piety,—they do not profess to be able to deliver the men
who possess them from all miseries; for true virtues tell no
such lies, but they profess that by the hope of the future
world this life, which is miserably involved in the many and
great evils of this world, is happy as it is also safe. For if
not yet safe, how could it be happy? And therefore the
Apostle Paul, speaking not of men without prudence, temperance,
fortitude, and justice, but of those whose lives were
regulated by true piety, and whose virtues were therefore true,
says, “For we are saved by hope: now hope which is seen
is not hope; for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?
But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience
wait for it.”[628] As, therefore, we are saved, so we are made
happy by hope. And as we do not as yet possess a present,
but look for a future salvation, so is it with our happiness,
and this “with patience;” for we are encompassed with evils,
which we ought patiently to endure, until we come to the
ineffable enjoyment of unmixed good; for there shall be no
longer anything to endure. Salvation, such as it shall be in
the world to come, shall itself be our final happiness. And
this happiness these philosophers refuse to believe in, because
they do not see it, and attempt to fabricate for themselves a
happiness in this life, based upon a virtue which is as deceitful
as it is proud.

5. Of the social life, which, though most desirable, is frequently disturbed by
many distresses.

We give a much more unlimited approval to their idea that
the life of the wise man must be social. For how could the
city of God (concerning which we are already writing no less
than the nineteenth book of this work) either take a beginning
or be developed, or attain its proper destiny, if the life
of the saints were not a social life? But who can enumerate
all the great grievances with which human society abounds in[Pg 308]
the misery of this mortal state? Who can weigh them?
Hear how one of their comic writers makes one of his characters
express the common feelings of all men in this matter:
“I am married; this is one misery. Children are born to me;
they are additional cares.”[629] What shall I say of the miseries
of love which Terence also recounts—”slights, suspicions,
quarrels, war to-day, peace to-morrow?”[630] Is not human life
full of such things? Do they not often occur even in
honourable friendships? On all hands we experience these
slights, suspicions, quarrels, war, all of which are undoubted
evils; while, on the other hand, peace is a doubtful good, because
we do not know the heart of our friend, and though
we did know it to-day, we should be as ignorant of what it
might be to-morrow. Who ought to be, or who are more
friendly than those who live in the same family? And yet
who can rely even upon this friendship, seeing that secret
treachery has often broken it up, and produced enmity as bitter
as the amity was sweet, or seemed sweet by the most perfect
dissimulation? It is on this account that the words of Cicero
so move the heart of every one, and provoke a sigh: “There
are no snares more dangerous than those which lurk under
the guise of duty or the name of relationship. For the man
who is your declared foe you can easily baffle by precaution;
but this hidden, intestine, and domestic danger not merely
exists, but overwhelms you before you can foresee and examine
it.”[631] It is also to this that allusion is made by the divine
saying, “A man’s foes are those of his own household,”[632]—words
which one cannot hear without pain; for though a man have
sufficient fortitude to endure it with equanimity, and sufficient
sagacity to baffle the malice of a pretended friend, yet if he
himself is a good man, he cannot but be greatly pained at the
discovery of the perfidy of wicked men, whether they have
always been wicked and merely feigned goodness, or have
fallen from a better to a malicious disposition. If, then, home,
the natural refuge from the ills of life, is itself not safe, what
shall we say of the city, which, as it is larger, is so much the
more filled with lawsuits civil and criminal, and is never[Pg 309]
free from the fear, if sometimes from the actual outbreak, of
disturbing and bloody insurrections and civil wars?

6. Of the error of human judgments when the truth is hidden.

What shall I say of these judgments which men pronounce
on men, and which are necessary in communities, whatever
outward peace they enjoy? Melancholy and lamentable
judgments they are, since the judges are men who cannot
discern the consciences of those at their bar, and are therefore
frequently compelled to put innocent witnesses to the torture
to ascertain the truth regarding the crimes of other men.
What shall I say of torture applied to the accused himself?
He is tortured to discover whether he is guilty, so that, though
innocent, he suffers most undoubted punishment for crime that
is still doubtful, not because it is proved that he committed it,
but because it is not ascertained that he did not commit it.
Thus the ignorance of the judge frequently involves an innocent
person in suffering. And what is still more unendurable—a
thing, indeed, to be bewailed, and, if that were possible, watered
with fountains of tears—is this, that when the judge puts the
accused to the question, that he may not unwittingly put an
innocent man to death, the result of this lamentable ignorance
is that this very person, whom he tortured that he might not
condemn him if innocent, is condemned to death both tortured
and innocent. For if he has chosen, in obedience to the
philosophical instructions to the wise man, to quit this life
rather than endure any longer such tortures, he declares that
he has committed the crime which in fact he has not committed.
And when he has been condemned and put to
death, the judge is still in ignorance whether he has put to
death an innocent or a guilty person, though he put the
accused to the torture for the very purpose of saving himself
from condemning the innocent; and consequently he has
both tortured an innocent man to discover his innocence, and
has put him to death without discovering it. If such darkness
shrouds social life, will a wise judge take his seat on
the bench or no? Beyond question he will. For human
society, which he thinks it a wickedness to abandon, constrains
him and compels him to this duty. And he thinks it no[Pg 310]
wickedness that innocent witnesses are tortured regarding the
crimes of which other men are accused; or that the accused
are put to the torture, so that they are often overcome with
anguish, and, though innocent, make false confessions regarding
themselves, and are punished; or that, though they be not
condemned to die, they often die during, or in consequence of,
the torture; or that sometimes the accusers, who perhaps
have been prompted by a desire to benefit society by bringing
criminals to justice, are themselves condemned through the
ignorance of the judge, because they are unable to prove the
truth of their accusations though they are true, and because
the witnesses lie, and the accused endures the torture without
being moved to confession. These numerous and important
evils he does not consider sins; for the wise judge does these
things, not with any intention of doing harm, but because his
ignorance compels him, and because human society claims
him as a judge. But though we therefore acquit the judge
of malice, we must none the less condemn human life as
miserable. And if he is compelled to torture and punish the
innocent because his office and his ignorance constrain him, is
he a happy as well as a guiltless man? Surely it were proof
of more profound considerateness and finer feeling were he to
recognise the misery of these necessities, and shrink from his
own implication in that misery; and had he any piety about
him, he would cry to God, “From my necessities deliver Thou
me.”[633]

7. Of the diversity of languages, by which the intercourse of men is prevented;
and of the misery of wars, even of those called just.

After the state or city comes the world, the third circle of
human society,—the first being the house, and the second the
city. And the world, as it is larger, so it is fuller of dangers,
as the greater sea is the more dangerous. And here, in the
first place, man is separated from man by the difference of
languages. For if two men, each ignorant of the other’s
language, meet, and are not compelled to pass, but, on the
contrary, to remain in company, dumb animals, though of
different species, would more easily hold intercourse than
they, human beings though they be. For their common[Pg 311]
nature is no help to friendliness when they are prevented by
diversity of language from conveying their sentiments to one
another; so that a man would more readily hold intercourse
with his dog than with a foreigner. But the imperial city
has endeavoured to impose on subject nations not only her
yoke, but her language, as a bond of peace, so that interpreters,
far from being scarce, are numberless. This is true;
but how many great wars, how much slaughter and bloodshed,
have provided this unity! And though these are past, the
end of these miseries has not yet come. For though there
have never been wanting, nor are yet wanting, hostile nations
beyond the empire, against whom wars have been and are
waged, yet, supposing there were no such nations, the very
extent of the empire itself has produced wars of a more obnoxious
description—social and civil wars—and with these
the whole race has been agitated, either by the actual conflict
or the fear of a renewed outbreak. If I attempted to give an
adequate description of these manifold disasters, these stern
and lasting necessities, though I am quite unequal to the
task, what limit could I set? But, say they, the wise man
will wage just wars. As if he would not all the rather
lament the necessity of just wars, if he remembers that he is
a man; for if they were not just he would not wage them,
and would therefore be delivered from all wars. For it is the
wrong-doing of the opposing party which compels the wise
man to wage just wars; and this wrong-doing, even though it
gave rise to no war, would still be matter of grief to man because
it is man’s wrong-doing. Let every one, then, who
thinks with pain on all these great evils, so horrible, so ruthless,
acknowledge that this is misery. And if any one either
endures or thinks of them without mental pain, this is a more
miserable plight still, for he thinks himself happy because he
has lost human feeling.

8. That the friendship of good men cannot be securely rested in, so long as the
dangers of this life force us to be anxious.

In our present wretched condition we frequently mistake a
friend for an enemy, and an enemy for a friend. And if we
escape this pitiable blindness, is not the unfeigned confidence
and mutual love of true and good friends our one solace in[Pg 312]
human society, filled as it is with misunderstandings and
calamities? And yet the more friends we have, and the more
widely they are scattered, the more numerous are our fears
that some portion of the vast masses of the disasters of life
may light upon them. For we are not only anxious lest they
suffer from famine, war, disease, captivity, or the inconceivable
horrors of slavery, but we are also affected with the
much more painful dread that their friendship may be
changed into perfidy, malice, and injustice. And when these
contingencies actually occur,—as they do the more frequently
the more friends we have, and the more widely they are
scattered,—and when they come to our knowledge, who but
the man who has experienced it can tell with what pangs the
heart is torn? We would, in fact, prefer to hear that they
were dead, although we could not without anguish hear of
even this. For if their life has solaced us with the charms of
friendship, can it be that their death should affect us with no
sadness? He who will have none of this sadness must, if
possible, have no friendly intercourse. Let him interdict or
extinguish friendly affection; let him burst with ruthless insensibility
the bonds of every human relationship; or let him
contrive so to use them that no sweetness shall distil into his
spirit. But if this is utterly impossible, how shall we contrive
to feel no bitterness in the death of those whose life has
been sweet to us? Hence arises that grief which affects the
tender heart like a wound or a bruise, and which is healed by
the application of kindly consolation. For though the cure
is affected all the more easily and rapidly the better condition
the soul is in, we must not on this account suppose that there
is nothing at all to heal. Although, then, our present life is
afflicted, sometimes in a milder, sometimes in a more painful
degree, by the death of those very dear to us, and especially
of useful public men, yet we would prefer to hear that such
men were dead rather than to hear or perceive that they had
fallen from the faith, or from virtue,—in other words, that
they were spiritually dead. Of this vast material for misery
the earth is full, and therefore it is written, “Is not human
life upon earth a trial?”[634] And with the same reference the[Pg 313]
Lord says, “Woe to the world because of offences!”[635] and
again, “Because iniquity abounded, the love of many shall
wax cold.”[636] And hence we enjoy some gratification when
our good friends die; for though their death leaves us in
sorrow, we have the consolatory assurance that they are
beyond the ills by which in this life even the best of men are
broken down or corrupted, or are in danger of both results.

9. Of the friendship of the holy angels, which men cannot be sure of in this life,
owing to the deceit of the demons who hold in bondage the worshippers of
a plurality of gods.

The philosophers who wished us to have the gods for our
friends rank the friendship of the holy angels in the fourth
circle of society, advancing now from the three circles of
society on earth to the universe, and embracing heaven itself.
And in this friendship we have indeed no fear that the angels
will grieve us by their death or deterioration. But as we
cannot mingle with them as familiarly as with men (which
itself is one of the grievances of this life), and as Satan, as
we read,[637] sometimes transforms himself into an angel of light,
to tempt those whom it is necessary to discipline, or just to
deceive, there is great need of God’s mercy to preserve us
from making friends of demons in disguise, while we fancy
we have good angels for our friends; for the astuteness and
deceitfulness of these wicked spirits is equalled by their hurtfulness.
And is this not a great misery of human life, that
we are involved in such ignorance as, but for God’s mercy,
makes us a prey to these demons? And it is very certain
that the philosophers of the godless city, who have maintained
that the gods were their friends, had fallen a prey to
the malignant demons who rule that city, and whose eternal
punishment is to be shared by it. For the nature of these
beings is sufficiently evinced by the sacred or rather sacrilegious
observances which form their worship, and by the
filthy games in which their crimes are celebrated, and which
they themselves originated and exacted from their worshippers
as a fit propitiation.

[Pg 314]

10. The reward prepared for the saints after they have endured the
trial of this life.

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

11. Of the happiness of the eternal peace, which constitutes the end or true
perfection of the saints.

And thus we may say of peace, as we have said of eternal
life, that it is the end of our good; and the rather because
the Psalmist says of the city of God, the subject of this laborious
work, “Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem; praise thy God,
O Zion: for He hath strengthened the bars of thy gates; He
hath blessed thy children within thee; who hath made thy
borders peace.”[638] For when the bars of her gates shall be
strengthened, none shall go in or come out from her; consequently
we ought to understand the peace of her borders as[Pg 315]
that final peace we are wishing to declare. For even the
mystical name of the city itself, that is, Jerusalem, means, as I
have already said, “Vision of Peace.” But as the word peace is
employed in connection with things in this world in which
certainly life eternal has no place, we have preferred to call
the end or supreme good of this city life eternal rather than
peace. Of this end the apostle says, “But now, being freed
from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto
holiness, and the end life eternal.”[639] But, on the other hand,
as those who are not familiar with Scripture may suppose that
the life of the wicked is eternal life, either because of the
immortality of the soul, which some of the philosophers even
have recognised, or because of the endless punishment of the
wicked, which forms a part of our faith, and which seems
impossible unless the wicked live for ever, it may therefore
be advisable, in order that every one may readily understand
what we mean, to say that the end or supreme good of this
city is either peace in eternal life, or eternal life in peace. For
peace is a good so great, that even in this earthly and mortal
life there is no word we hear with such pleasure, nothing we
desire with such zest, or find to be more thoroughly gratifying.
So that if we dwell for a little longer on this subject,
we shall not, in my opinion, be wearisome to our readers, who
will attend both for the sake of understanding what is the
end of this city of which we speak, and for the sake of the
sweetness of peace which is dear to all.

12. That even the fierceness of war and all the disquietude of men make
towards this one end of peace, which every nature desires.

Whoever gives even moderate attention to human affairs
and to our common nature, will recognise that if there is
no man who does not wish to be joyful, neither is there
any one who does not wish to have peace. For even they
who make war desire nothing but victory,—desire, that is
to say, to attain to peace with glory. For what else is victory
than the conquest of those who resist us? and when this is
done there is peace. It is therefore with the desire for peace
that wars are waged, even by those who take pleasure in
exercising their warlike nature in command and battle. And[Pg 316]
hence it is obvious that peace is the end sought for by war.
For every man seeks peace by waging war, but no man seeks
war by making peace. For even they who intentionally
interrupt the peace in which they are living have no hatred
of peace, but only wish it changed into a peace that suits
them better. They do not, therefore, wish to have no peace,
but only one more to their mind. And in the case of sedition,
when men have separated themselves from the community,
they yet do not effect what they wish, unless they maintain
some kind of peace with their fellow-conspirators. And
therefore even robbers take care to maintain peace with their
comrades, that they may with greater effect and greater safety
invade the peace of other men. And if an individual happen
to be of such unrivalled strength, and to be so jealous of partnership,
that he trusts himself with no comrades, but makes
his own plots, and commits depredations and murders on his
own account, yet he maintains some shadow of peace with
such persons as he is unable to kill, and from whom he
wishes to conceal his deeds. In his own home, too, he makes
it his aim to be at peace with his wife and children, and any
other members of his household; for unquestionably their
prompt obedience to his every look is a source of pleasure to
him. And if this be not rendered, he is angry, he chides and
punishes; and even by this storm he secures the calm peace
of his own home, as occasion demands. For he sees that
peace cannot be maintained unless all the members of the
same domestic circle be subject to one head, such as he himself
is in his own house. And therefore if a city or nation
offered to submit itself to him, to serve him in the same style
as he had made his household serve him, he would no longer
lurk in a brigand’s hiding-places, but lift his head in open
day as a king, though the same covetousness and wickedness
should remain in him. And thus all men desire to have
peace with their own circle whom they wish to govern as
suits themselves. For even those whom they make war
against they wish to make their own, and impose on them
the laws of their own peace.

But let us suppose a man such as poetry and mythology
speak of,—a man so insociable and savage as to be called rather[Pg 317]
a semi-man than a man.[640] Although, then, his kingdom was
the solitude of a dreary cave, and he himself was so singularly
bad-hearted that he was named Κακός, which is the Greek
word for bad; though he had no wife to soothe him with endearing
talk, no children to play with, no sons to do his bidding, no
friend to enliven him with intercourse, not even his father
Vulcan (though in one respect he was happier than his father,
not having begotten a monster like himself); although he gave
to no man, but took as he wished whatever he could, from
whomsoever he could, when he could; yet in that solitary den,
the floor of which, as Virgil[641] says, was always reeking with
recent slaughter, there was nothing else than peace sought, a
peace in which no one should molest him, or disquiet him with
any assault or alarm. With his own body he desired to be at
peace; and he was satisfied only in proportion as he had this
peace. For he ruled his members, and they obeyed him; and
for the sake of pacifying his mortal nature, which rebelled when
it needed anything, and of allaying the sedition of hunger which
threatened to banish the soul from the body, he made forays,
slew, and devoured, but used the ferocity and savageness he
displayed in these actions only for the preservation of his own
life’s peace. So that, had he been willing to make with other
men the same peace which he made with himself in his own
cave, he would neither have been called bad, nor a monster,
nor a semi-man. Or if the appearance of his body and his
vomiting smoky fires frightened men from having any dealings
with him, perhaps his fierce ways arose not from a desire to
do mischief, but from the necessity of finding a living. But he
may have had no existence, or, at least, he was not such as the
poets fancifully describe him, for they had to exalt Hercules,
and did so at the expense of Cacus. It is better, then, to
believe that such a man or semi-man never existed, and that
this, in common with many other fancies of the poets, is mere
fiction. For the most savage animals (and he is said to have
been almost a wild beast) encompass their own species with a
ring of protecting peace. They cohabit, beget, produce, suckle,
and bring up their young, though very many of them are not
gregarious, but solitary,—not like sheep, deer, pigeons, starlings,[Pg 318]
bees, but such as lions, foxes, eagles, bats. For what tigress
does not gently purr over her cubs, and lay aside her ferocity
to fondle them? What kite, solitary as he is when circling
over his prey, does not seek a mate, build a nest, hatch the
eggs, bring up the young birds, and maintain with the mother
of his family as peaceful a domestic alliance as he can? How
much more powerfully do the laws of man’s nature move him
to hold fellowship and maintain peace with all men so far as
in him lies, since even wicked men wage war to maintain the
peace of their own circle, and wish that, if possible, all men
belonged to them, that all men and things might serve but one
head, and might, either through love or fear, yield themselves
to peace with him! It is thus that pride in its perversity apes
God. It abhors equality with other men under Him; but,
instead of His rule, it seeks to impose a rule of its own upon
its equals. It abhors, that is to say, the just peace of God,
and loves its own unjust peace; but it cannot help loving peace
of one kind or other. For there is no vice so clean contrary
to nature that it obliterates even the faintest traces of nature.

He, then, who prefers what is right to what is wrong, and
what is well-ordered to what is perverted, sees that the peace
of unjust men is not worthy to be called peace in comparison
with the peace of the just. And yet even what is perverted
must of necessity be in harmony with, and in dependence on,
and in some part of the order of things, for otherwise it would
have no existence at all. Suppose a man hangs with his head
downwards, this is certainly a perverted attitude of body and
arrangement of its members; for that which nature requires
to be above is beneath, and vice versâ. This perversity disturbs
the peace of the body, and is therefore painful. Nevertheless
the spirit is at peace with its body, and labours for its preservation,
and hence the suffering; but if it is banished from the
body by its pains, then, so long as the bodily framework holds
together, there is in the remains a kind of peace among the
members, and hence the body remains suspended. And inasmuch
as the earthy body tends towards the earth, and rests on
the bond by which it is suspended, it tends thus to its natural
peace, and the voice of its own weight demands a place for it
to rest; and though now lifeless and without feeling, it does[Pg 319]
not fall from the peace that is natural to its place in creation,
whether it already has it, or is tending towards it. For if you
apply embalming preparations to prevent the bodily frame from
mouldering and dissolving, a kind of peace still unites part to
part, and keeps the whole body in a suitable place on the earth,—in
other words, in a place that is at peace with the body. If,
on the other hand, the body receive no such care, but be left
to the natural course, it is disturbed by exhalations that do not
harmonize with one another, and that offend our senses; for
it is this which is perceived in putrefaction until it is assimilated
to the elements of the world, and particle by particle
enters into peace with them. Yet throughout this process the
laws of the most high Creator and Governor are strictly observed,
for it is by Him the peace of the universe is administered. For
although minute animals are produced from the carcase of a
larger animal, all these little atoms, by the law of the same
Creator, serve the animals they belong to in peace. And although
the flesh of dead animals be eaten by others, no matter where
it be carried, nor what it be brought into contact with, nor what
it be converted and changed into, it still is ruled by the same
laws which pervade all things for the conservation of every
mortal race, and which bring things that fit one another into
harmony.

13. Of the universal peace which the law of nature preserves through all disturbances,
and by which every one reaches his desert in a way regulated by
the just Judge.

The peace of the body then consists in the duly proportioned
arrangement of its parts. The peace of the irrational soul is
the harmonious repose of the appetites, and that of the rational
soul the harmony of knowledge and action. The peace of body
and soul is the well-ordered and harmonious life and health of
the living creature. Peace between man and God is the well-ordered
obedience of faith to eternal law. Peace between man
and man is well-ordered concord. Domestic peace is the well-ordered
concord between those of the family who rule and
those who obey. Civil peace is a similar concord among the
citizens. The peace of the celestial city is the perfectly ordered
and harmonious enjoyment of God, and of one another in God.
The peace of all things is the tranquillity of order. Order is[Pg 320]
the distribution which allots things equal and unequal, each to
its own place. And hence, though the miserable, in so far as
they are such, do certainly not enjoy peace, but are severed
from that tranquillity of order in which there is no disturbance,
nevertheless, inasmuch as they are deservedly and justly miserable,
they are by their very misery connected with order.
They are not, indeed, conjoined with the blessed, but they are
disjoined from them by the law of order. And though they
are disquieted, their circumstances are notwithstanding adjusted
to them, and consequently they have some tranquillity of order,
and therefore some peace. But they are wretched because,
although not wholly miserable, they are not in that place where
any mixture of misery is impossible. They would, however,
be more wretched if they had not that peace which arises from
being in harmony with the natural order of things. When
they suffer, their peace is in so far disturbed; but their peace
continues in so far as they do not suffer, and in so far as their
nature continues to exist. As, then, there may be life without
pain, while there cannot be pain without some kind of life,
so there may be peace without war, but there cannot be war
without some kind of peace, because war supposes the existence
of some natures to wage it, and these natures cannot
exist without peace of one kind or other.

And therefore there is a nature in which evil does not or
even cannot exist; but there cannot be a nature in which
there is no good. Hence not even the nature of the devil
himself is evil, in so far as it is nature, but it was made evil
by being perverted. Thus he did not abide in the truth,[642] but
could not escape the judgment of the Truth; he did not abide
in the tranquillity of order, but did not therefore escape the
power of the Ordainer. The good imparted by God to his
nature did not screen him from the justice of God by which
order was preserved in his punishment; neither did God
punish the good which He had created, but the evil which
the devil had committed. God did not take back all He had
imparted to his nature, but something He took and something
He left, that there might remain enough to be sensible of the
loss of what was taken. And this very sensibility to pain is[Pg 321]
evidence of the good which has been taken away and the
good which has been left. For, were nothing good left, there
could be no pain on account of the good which had been lost.
For he who sins is still worse if he rejoices in his loss of
righteousness. But he who is in pain, if he derives no benefit
from it, mourns at least the loss of health. And as righteousness
and health are both good things, and as the loss of any
good thing is matter of grief, not of joy,—if, at least, there is
no compensation, as spiritual righteousness may compensate
for the loss of bodily health,—certainly it is more suitable
for a wicked man to grieve in punishment than to rejoice in
his fault. As, then, the joy of a sinner who has abandoned
what is good is evidence of a bad will, so his grief for the
good he has lost when he is punished is evidence of a good
nature. For he who laments the peace his nature has lost is
stirred to do so by some relics of peace which make his nature
friendly to itself. And it is very just that in the final
punishment the wicked and godless should in anguish bewail
the loss of the natural advantages they enjoyed, and should
perceive that they were most justly taken from them by that
God whose benign liberality they had despised. God, then,
the most wise Creator and most just Ordainer of all natures,
who placed the human race upon earth as its greatest ornament,
imparted to men some good things adapted to this life,
to wit, temporal peace, such as we can enjoy in this life from
health and safety and human fellowship, and all things needful
for the preservation and recovery of this peace, such as
the objects which are accommodated to our outward senses,
light, night, the air, and waters suitable for us, and everything
the body requires to sustain, shelter, heal, or beautify
it: and all under this most equitable condition, that every
man who made a good use of these advantages suited to the
peace of this mortal condition, should receive ampler and
better blessings, namely, the peace of immortality, accompanied
by glory and honour in an endless life made fit for the enjoyment
of God and of one another in God; but that he who
used the present blessings badly should both lose them and
should not receive the others.

[Pg 322]

14. Of the order and law which obtain in heaven and earth, whereby it comes to
pass that human society is served by those who rule it.

The whole use, then, of things temporal has a reference to
this result of earthly peace in the earthly community, while
in the city of God it is connected with eternal peace. And
therefore, if we were irrational animals, we should desire
nothing beyond the proper arrangement of the parts of the
body and the satisfaction of the appetites,—nothing, therefore,
but bodily comfort and abundance of pleasures, that the
peace of the body might contribute to the peace of the soul.
For if bodily peace be awanting, a bar is put to the peace
even of the irrational soul, since it cannot obtain the gratification
of its appetites. And these two together help out the
mutual peace of soul and body, the peace of harmonious life
and health. For as animals, by shunning pain, show that they
love bodily peace, and, by pursuing pleasure to gratify their
appetites, show that they love peace of soul, so their shrinking
from death is a sufficient indication of their intense love of
that peace which binds soul and body in close alliance. But,
as man has a rational soul, he subordinates all this which he
has in common with the beasts to the peace of his rational
soul, that his intellect may have free play and may regulate
his actions, and that he may thus enjoy the well-ordered harmony
of knowledge and action which constitutes, as we have
said, the peace of the rational soul. And for this purpose he
must desire to be neither molested by pain, nor disturbed by
desire, nor extinguished by death, that he may arrive at some
useful knowledge by which he may regulate his life and
manners. But, owing to the liability of the human mind to
fall into mistakes, this very pursuit of knowledge may be a
snare to him unless he has a divine Master, whom he may
obey without misgiving, and who may at the same time give
him such help as to preserve his own freedom. And because,
so long as he is in this mortal body, he is a stranger to God,
he walks by faith, not by sight; and he therefore refers all
peace, bodily or spiritual or both, to that peace which mortal
man has with the immortal God, so that he exhibits the well-ordered
obedience of faith to eternal law. But as this divine
Master inculcates two precepts,—the love of God and the[Pg 323]
love of our neighbour,—and as in these precepts a man finds
three things he has to love,—God, himself, and his neighbour,—and
that he who loves God loves himself thereby, it follows
that he must endeavour to get his neighbour to love God,
since he is ordered to love his neighbour as himself. He
ought to make this endeavour in behalf of his wife, his children,
his household, all within his reach, even as he would
wish his neighbour to do the same for him if he needed it;
and consequently he will be at peace, or in well-ordered concord,
with all men, as far as in him lies. And this is the
order of this concord, that a man, in the first place, injure no
one, and, in the second, do good to every one he can reach.
Primarily, therefore, his own household are his care, for the
law of nature and of society gives him readier access to them
and greater opportunity of serving them. And hence the
apostle says, “Now, if any provide not for his own, and
specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the
faith, and is worse than an infidel.”[643] This is the origin of
domestic peace, or the well-ordered concord of those in the
family who rule and those who obey. For they who care
for the rest rule,—the husband the wife, the parents the
children, the masters the servants; and they who are cared
for obey,—the women their husbands, the children their
parents, the servants their masters. But in the family of
the just man who lives by faith and is as yet a pilgrim
journeying on to the celestial city, even those who rule
serve those whom they seem to command; for they rule
not from a love of power, but from a sense of the duty they
owe to others—not because they are proud of authority, but
because they love mercy.

15. Of the liberty proper to man’s nature, and the servitude introduced by sin,—a
servitude in which the man whose will is wicked is the slave of his own
lust, though he is free so far as regards other men.

This is prescribed by the order of nature: it is thus that
God has created man. For “let them,” He says, “have
dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the
air, and over every creeping thing which creepeth on the
earth.”[644] He did not intend that His rational creature, who[Pg 324]
was made in His image, should have dominion over anything
but the irrational creation,—not man over man, but man over
the beasts. And hence the righteous men in primitive times
were made shepherds of cattle rather than kings of men, God
intending thus to teach us what the relative position of the
creatures is, and what the desert of sin; for it is with justice,
we believe, that the condition of slavery is the result of sin.
And this is why we do not find the word “slave” in any part
of Scripture until righteous Noah branded the sin of his son
with this name. It is a name, therefore, introduced by sin
and not by nature. The origin of the Latin word for slave
is supposed to be found in the circumstance that those who
by the law of war were liable to be killed were sometimes
preserved by their victors, and were hence called servants.[645]
And these circumstances could never have arisen save through
sin. For even when we wage a just war, our adversaries
must be sinning; and every victory, even though gained by
wicked men, is a result of the first judgment of God, who
humbles the vanquished either for the sake of removing or
of punishing their sins. Witness that man of God, Daniel,
who, when he was in captivity, confessed to God his own sins
and the sins of his people, and declares with pious grief that
these were the cause of the captivity.[646] The prime cause, then,
of slavery is sin, which brings man under the dominion of his
fellow,—that which does not happen save by the judgment of
God, with whom is no unrighteousness, and who knows how
to award fit punishments to every variety of offence. But our
Master in heaven says, “Every one who doeth sin is the servant
of sin.”[647] And thus there are many wicked masters who
have religious men as their slaves, and who are yet themselves
in bondage; “for of whom a man is overcome, of the same
is he brought in bondage.”[648] And beyond question it is a
happier thing to be the slave of a man than of a lust; for even
this very lust of ruling, to mention no others, lays waste men’s
hearts with the most ruthless dominion. Moreover, when men
are subjected to one another in a peaceful order, the lowly
position does as much good to the servant as the proud position[Pg 325]
does harm to the master. But by nature, as God first
created us, no one is the slave either of man or of sin. This
servitude is, however, penal, and is appointed by that law
which enjoins the preservation of the natural order and forbids
its disturbance; for if nothing had been done in violation
of that law, there would have been nothing to restrain by
penal servitude. And therefore the apostle admonishes slaves
to be subject to their masters, and to serve them heartily
and with good-will, so that, if they cannot be freed by their
masters, they may themselves make their slavery in some sort
free, by serving not in crafty fear, but in faithful love, until
all unrighteousness pass away, and all principality and every
human power be brought to nothing, and God be all in all.

16. Of equitable rule.

And therefore, although our righteous fathers[649] had slaves,
and administered their domestic affairs so as to distinguish
between the condition of slaves and the heirship of sons in
regard to the blessings of this life, yet in regard to the worship
of God, in whom we hope for eternal blessings, they took
an equally loving oversight of all the members of their household.
And this is so much in accordance with the natural
order, that the head of the household was called paterfamilias;
and this name has been so generally accepted, that even those
whose rule is unrighteous are glad to apply it to themselves.
But those who are true fathers of their households desire and
endeavour that all the members of their household, equally
with their own children, should worship and win God, and
should come to that heavenly home in which the duty of
ruling men is no longer necessary, because the duty of caring
for their everlasting happiness has also ceased; but, until they
reach that home, masters ought to feel their position of authority
a greater burden than servants their service. And if any
member of the family interrupts the domestic peace by disobedience,
he is corrected either by word or blow, or some
kind of just and legitimate punishment, such as society permits,
that he may himself be the better for it, and be readjusted
to the family harmony from which he had dislocated[Pg 326]
himself. For as it is not benevolent to give a man help at
the expense of some greater benefit he might receive, so it is
not innocent to spare a man at the risk of his falling into
graver sin. To be innocent, we must not only do harm to
no man, but also restrain him from sin or punish his sin, so
that either the man himself who is punished may profit by
his experience, or others be warned by his example. Since,
then, the house ought to be the beginning or element of the
city, and every beginning bears reference to some end of its
own kind, and every element to the integrity of the whole of
which it is an element, it follows plainly enough that domestic
peace has a relation to civic peace,—in other words, that the
well-ordered concord of domestic obedience and domestic rule
has a relation to the well-ordered concord of civic obedience
and civic rule. And therefore it follows, further, that the
father of the family ought to frame his domestic rule in accordance
with the law of the city, so that the household may
be in harmony with the civic order.

17. What produces peace, and what discord, between the heavenly and
earthly cities.

But the families which do not live by faith seek their
peace in the earthly advantages of this life; while the families
which live by faith look for those eternal blessings which
are promised, and use as pilgrims such advantages of time
and of earth as do not fascinate and divert them from God,
but rather aid them to endure with greater ease, and to keep
down the number of those burdens of the corruptible body
which weigh upon the soul. Thus the things necessary for
this mortal life are used by both kinds of men and families
alike, but each has its own peculiar and widely different aim
in using them. The earthly city, which does not live by faith,
seeks an earthly peace, and the end it proposes, in the well-ordered
concord of civic obedience and rule, is the combination
of men’s wills to attain the things which are helpful to
this life. The heavenly city, or rather the part of it which
sojourns on earth and lives by faith, makes use of this peace
only because it must, until this mortal condition which necessitates
it shall pass away. Consequently, so long as it lives
like a captive and a stranger in the earthly city, though it[Pg 327]
has already received the promise of redemption, and the gift
of the Spirit as the earnest of it, it makes no scruple to obey
the laws of the earthly city, whereby the things necessary for
the maintenance of this mortal life are administered; and
thus, as this life is common to both cities, so there is a harmony
between them in regard to what belongs to it. But, as
the earthly city has had some philosophers whose doctrine is
condemned by the divine teaching, and who, being deceived
either by their own conjectures or by demons, supposed that
many gods must be invited to take an interest in human
affairs, and assigned to each a separate function and a separate
department,—to one the body, to another the soul; and
in the body itself, to one the head, to another the neck, and
each of the other members to one of the gods; and in like
manner, in the soul, to one god the natural capacity was assigned,
to another education, to another anger, to another lust;
and so the various affairs of life were assigned,—cattle to one,
corn to another, wine to another, oil to another, the woods to
another, money to another, navigation to another, wars and
victories to another, marriages to another, births and fecundity
to another, and other things to other gods: and as the celestial
city, on the other hand, knew that one God only was to
be worshipped, and that to Him alone was due that service
which the Greeks call λατρεία, and which can be given only
to a god, it has come to pass that the two cities could not
have common laws of religion, and that the heavenly city has
been compelled in this matter to dissent, and to become
obnoxious to those who think differently, and to stand the
brunt of their anger and hatred and persecutions, except in so
far as the minds of their enemies have been alarmed by the
multitude of the Christians and quelled by the manifest protection
of God accorded to them. This heavenly city, then,
while it sojourns on earth, calls citizens out of all nations, and
gathers together a society of pilgrims of all languages, not
scrupling about diversities in the manners, laws, and institutions
whereby earthly peace is secured and maintained, but
recognising that, however various these are, they all tend to
one and the same end of earthly peace. It therefore is so far
from rescinding and abolishing these diversities, that it even[Pg 328]
preserves and adopts them, so long only as no hindrance to
the worship of the one supreme and true God is thus introduced.
Even the heavenly city, therefore, while in its state
of pilgrimage, avails itself of the peace of earth, and, so far as
it can without injuring faith and godliness, desires and maintains
a common agreement among men regarding the acquisition
of the necessaries of life, and makes this earthly peace
bear upon the peace of heaven; for this alone can be truly
called and esteemed the peace of the reasonable creatures, consisting
as it does in the perfectly ordered and harmonious enjoyment
of God and of one another in God. When we shall
have reached that peace, this mortal life shall give place
to one that is eternal, and our body shall be no more this
animal body which by its corruption weighs down the soul,
but a spiritual body feeling no want, and in all its members
subjected to the will. In its pilgrim state the heavenly
city possesses this peace by faith; and by this faith it lives
righteously when it refers to the attainment of that peace
every good action towards God and man; for the life of the
city is a social life.

18. How different the uncertainty of the New Academy is from the certainty of
the Christian faith.

As regards the uncertainty about everything which Varro
alleges to be the differentiating characteristic of the New
Academy, the city of God thoroughly detests such doubt as
madness. Regarding matters which it apprehends by the
mind and reason it has most absolute certainty, although its
knowledge is limited because of the corruptible body pressing
down the mind, for, as the apostle says, “We know in part.”[650]
It believes also the evidence of the senses which the mind
uses by aid of the body; for [if one who trusts his senses is
sometimes deceived], he is more wretchedly deceived who
fancies he should never trust them. It believes also the
Holy Scriptures, old and new, which we call canonical, and
which are the source of the faith by which the just lives,[651] and
by which we walk without doubting whilst we are absent
from the Lord.[652] So long as this faith remains inviolate and
firm, we may without blame entertain doubts regarding some[Pg 329]
things which we have neither perceived by sense nor by
reason, and which have not been revealed to us by the
canonical Scriptures, nor come to our knowledge through
witnesses whom it is absurd to disbelieve.

19. Of the dress and habits of the Christian people.

It is a matter of no moment in the city of God whether
he who adopts the faith that brings men to God adopts it in
one dress and manner of life or another, so long only as he
lives in conformity with the commandments of God. And
hence, when philosophers themselves become Christians, they
are compelled, indeed, to abandon their erroneous doctrines, but
not their dress and mode of living, which are no obstacle to
religion. So that we make no account of that distinction of
sects which Varro adduced in connection with the Cynic
school, provided always nothing indecent or self-indulgent is
retained. As to these three modes of life, the contemplative,
the active, and the composite, although, so long as a man’s
faith is preserved, he may choose any of them without detriment
to his eternal interests, yet he must never overlook the
claims of truth and duty. No man has a right to lead such
a life of contemplation as to forget in his own ease the service
due to his neighbour; nor has any man a right to be so immersed
in active life as to neglect the contemplation of God.
The charm of leisure must not be indolent vacancy of mind,
but the investigation or discovery of truth, that thus every
man may make solid attainments without grudging that others
do the same. And, in active life, it is not the honours or
power of this life we should covet, since all things under the
sun are vanity, but we should aim at using our position and
influence, if these have been honourably attained, for the welfare
of those who are under us, in the way we have already
explained.[653] It is to this the apostle refers when he says,
“He that desireth the episcopate desireth a good work.”[654] He
wished to show that the episcopate is the title of a work, not
of an honour. It is a Greek word, and signifies that he who
governs, superintends or takes care of those whom he governs:
for ἐπί means over, and σκοπεῖν, to see; therefore [Pg 330]ἐπισκοπεῖν
means “to oversee.”[655] So that he who loves to govern rather
than to do good is no bishop. Accordingly no one is prohibited
from the search after truth, for in this leisure may
most laudably be spent; but it is unseemly to covet the high
position requisite for governing the people, even though that
position be held and that government be administered in a
seemly manner. And therefore holy leisure is longed for by
the love of truth; but it is the necessity of love to undertake
requisite business. If no one imposes this burden upon us,
we are free to sift and contemplate truth; but if it be laid
upon us, we are necessitated for love’s sake to undertake it.
And yet not even in this case are we obliged wholly to relinquish
the sweets of contemplation; for were these to be
withdrawn, the burden might prove more than we could bear.

20. That the saints are in this life blessed in hope.

Since, then, the supreme good of the city of God is perfect
and eternal peace, not such as mortals pass into and out of
by birth and death, but the peace of freedom from all evil, in
which the immortals ever abide, who can deny that that
future life is most blessed, or that, in comparison with it, this
life which now we live is most wretched, be it filled with all
blessings of body and soul and external things? And yet, if
any man uses this life with a reference to that other which
he ardently loves and confidently hopes for, he may well be
called even now blessed, though not in reality so much as in
hope. But the actual possession of the happiness of this
life, without the hope of what is beyond, is but a false happiness
and profound misery. For the true blessings of the soul
are not now enjoyed; for that is no true wisdom which does
not direct all its prudent observations, manly actions, virtuous
self-restraint, and just arrangements, to that end in which
God shall be all and all in a secure eternity and perfect
peace.

21. Whether there ever was a Roman republic answering to the definitions
of Scipio in Cicero’s dialogue.

This, then, is the place where I should fulfil the promise I[Pg 331]
gave in the second book of this work,[656] and explain, as briefly
and clearly as possible, that if we are to accept the definitions
laid down by Scipio in Cicero’s De Republica, there never was
a Roman republic; for he briefly defines a republic as the
weal of the people. And if this definition be true, there
never was a Roman republic, for the people’s weal was never
attained among the Romans. For the people, according to
his definition, is an assemblage associated by a common
acknowledgment of right and by a community of interests.
And what he means by a common acknowledgment of right
he explains at large, showing that a republic cannot be administered
without justice. Where, therefore, there is no
true justice there can be no right. For that which is done
by right is justly done, and what is unjustly done cannot be
done by right. For the unjust inventions of men are neither
to be considered nor spoken of as rights; for even they themselves
say that right is that which flows from the fountain of
justice, and deny the definition which is commonly given by
those who misconceive the matter, that right is that which is
useful to the stronger party. Thus, where there is not true
justice there can be no assemblage of men associated by a
common acknowledgment of right, and therefore there can
be no people, as defined by Scipio or Cicero; and if no
people, then no weal of the people, but only of some promiscuous
multitude unworthy of the name of people. Consequently,
if the republic is the weal of the people, and there is
no people if it be not associated by a common acknowledgment
of right, and if there is no right where there is no justice,
then most certainly it follows that there is no republic where
there is no justice. Further, justice is that virtue which
gives every one his due. Where, then, is the justice of man,
when he deserts the true God and yields himself to impure
demons? Is this to give every one his due? Or is he who
keeps back a piece of ground from the purchaser, and gives it
to a man who has no right to it, unjust, while he who keeps
back himself from the God who made him, and serves wicked
spirits, is just?

This same book, De Republica, advocates the cause of justice[Pg 332]
against injustice with great force and keenness. The pleading
for injustice against justice was first heard, and it was
asserted that without injustice a republic could neither increase
nor even subsist, for it was laid down as an absolutely
unassailable position that it is unjust for some men to rule
and some to serve; and yet the imperial city to which the
republic belongs cannot rule her provinces without having
recourse to this injustice. It was replied in behalf of justice,
that this ruling of the provinces is just, because servitude may
be advantageous to the provincials, and is so when rightly
administered,—that is to say, when lawless men are prevented
from doing harm. And further, as they became worse and
worse so long as they were free, they will improve by subjection.
To confirm this reasoning, there is added an eminent
example drawn from nature: for “why,” it is asked, “does
God rule man, the soul the body, the reason the passions and
other vicious parts of the soul?” This example leaves no
doubt that, to some, servitude is useful; and, indeed, to serve
God is useful to all. And it is when the soul serves God
that it exercises a right control over the body; and in the
soul itself the reason must be subject to God if it is to govern
as it ought the passions and other vices. Hence, when a
man does not serve God, what justice can we ascribe to him,
since in this case his soul cannot exercise a just control over
the body, nor his reason over his vices? And if there is no
justice in such an individual, certainly there can be none in a
community composed of such persons. Here, therefore, there
is not that common acknowledgment of right which makes
an assemblage of men a people whose affairs we call a republic.
And why need I speak of the advantageousness, the
common participation in which, according to the definition,
makes a people? For although, if you choose to regard the
matter attentively, you will see that there is nothing advantageous
to those who live godlessly, as every one lives who
does not serve God but demons, whose wickedness you may
measure by their desire to receive the worship of men though
they are most impure spirits, yet what I have said of the
common acknowledgment of right is enough to demonstrate
that, according to the above definition, there can be no people,[Pg 333]
and therefore no republic, where there is no justice. For if
they assert that in their republic the Romans did not serve
unclean spirits, but good and holy gods, must we therefore
again reply to this evasion, though already we have said
enough, and more than enough, to expose it? He must be
an uncommonly stupid, or a shamelessly contentious person,
who has read through the foregoing books to this point, and
can yet question whether the Romans served wicked and
impure demons. But, not to speak of their character, it is
written in the law of the true God, “He that sacrificeth unto
any god save unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly destroyed.”[657]
He, therefore, who uttered so menacing a commandment
decreed that no worship should be given either to
good or bad gods.

22. Whether the God whom the Christians serve is the true God to whom alone
sacrifice ought to be paid.

But it may be replied, Who is this God, or what proof is
there that He alone is worthy to receive sacrifice from the
Romans? One must be very blind to be still asking who
this God is. He is the God whose prophets predicted the
things we see accomplished. He is the God from whom
Abraham received the assurance, “In thy seed shall all nations
be blessed.”[658] That this was fulfilled in Christ, who according
to the flesh sprang from that seed, is recognised, whether
they will or no, even by those who have continued to be the
enemies of this name. He is the God whose divine Spirit
spake by the men whose predictions I cited in the preceding
books, and which are fulfilled in the Church which has extended
over all the world. This is the God whom Varro, the
most learned of the Romans, supposed to be Jupiter, though
he knows not what he says; yet I think it right to note the
circumstance that a man of such learning was unable to suppose
that this God had no existence or was contemptible, but
believed Him to be the same as the supreme God. In fine,
He is the God whom Porphyry, the most learned of the philosophers,
though the bitterest enemy of the Christians, confesses
to be a great God, even according to the oracles of those
whom he esteems gods.

[Pg 334]

23. Porphyry’s account of the responses given by the oracles of the gods concerning
Christ.

For in his book called ἐκ λογίων φιλοσοφίας, in which he
collects and comments upon the responses which he pretends
were uttered by the gods concerning divine things, he says—I
give his own words as they have been translated from the
Greek: “To one who inquired what god he should propitiate
in order to recall his wife from Christianity, Apollo replied in
the following verses.” Then the following words are given as
those of Apollo: “You will probably find it easier to write
lasting characters on the water, or lightly fly like a bird
through the air, than to restore right feeling in your impious
wife once she has polluted herself. Let her remain as she
pleases in her foolish deception, and sing false laments to her
dead God, who was condemned by right-minded judges, and
perished ignominiously by a violent death.” Then after these
verses of Apollo (which we have given in a Latin version that
does not preserve the metrical form), he goes on to say: “In
these verses Apollo exposed the incurable corruption of the
Christians, saying that the Jews, rather than the Christians,
recognised God.” See how he misrepresents Christ, giving
the Jews the preference to the Christians in the recognition of
God. This was his explanation of Apollo’s verses, in which
he says that Christ was put to death by right-minded or just
judges,—in other words, that He deserved to die. I leave the
responsibility of this oracle regarding Christ on the lying interpreter
of Apollo, or on this philosopher who believed it or
possibly himself invented it; as to its agreement with Porphyry’s
opinions or with other oracles, we shall in a little
have something to say. In this passage, however, he says
that the Jews, as the interpreters of God, judged justly in
pronouncing Christ to be worthy of the most shameful death.
He should have listened, then, to this God of the Jews to whom
he bears this testimony, when that God says, “He that sacrificeth
to any other god save to the Lord alone shall be utterly destroyed.”
But let us come to still plainer expressions, and
hear how great a God Porphyry thinks the God of the Jews
is. Apollo, he says, when asked whether word, i.e. reason, or
law is the better thing, replied in the following verses. Then[Pg 335]
he gives the verses of Apollo, from which I select the following
as sufficient: “God, the Generator, and the King prior to
all things, before whom heaven and earth, and the sea, and
the hidden places of hell tremble, and the deities themselves
are afraid, for their law is the Father whom the holy Hebrews
honour.” In this oracle of his god Apollo, Porphyry avowed
that the God of the Hebrews is so great that the deities themselves
are afraid before Him. I am surprised, therefore, that
when God said, He that sacrificeth to other gods shall be
utterly destroyed, Porphyry himself was not afraid lest he
should be destroyed for sacrificing to other gods.

This philosopher, however, has also some good to say of
Christ, oblivious, as it were, of that contumely of his of which
we have just been speaking; or as if his gods spoke evil of
Christ only while asleep, and recognised Him to be good, and
gave Him His deserved praise, when they awoke. For, as if
he were about to proclaim some marvellous thing passing
belief, he says, “What we are going to say will certainly take
some by surprise. For the gods have declared that Christ
was very pious, and has become immortal, and that they
cherish his memory: that the Christians, however, are polluted,
contaminated, and involved in error. And many other
such things,” he says, “do the gods say against the Christians.”
Then he gives specimens of the accusations made, as he says,
by the gods against them, and then goes on: “But to some
who asked Hecate whether Christ were a God, she replied,
You know the condition of the disembodied immortal soul,
and that if it has been severed from wisdom it always errs.
The soul you refer to is that of a man foremost in piety: they
worship it because they mistake the truth.” To this so-called
oracular response he adds the following words of his own:
“Of this very pious man, then, Hecate said that the soul, like
the souls of other good men, was after death dowered with immortality,
and that the Christians through ignorance worship
it. And to those who ask why he was condemned to die,
the oracle of the goddess replied, The body, indeed, is always
exposed to torments, but the souls of the pious abide in heaven.
And the soul you inquire about has been the fatal cause of
error to other souls which were not fated to receive the gifts[Pg 336]
of the gods, and to have the knowledge of immortal Jove.
Such souls are therefore hated by the gods; for they who
were fated not to receive the gifts of the gods, and not to
know God, were fated to be involved in error by means of
him you speak of. He himself, however, was good, and
heaven has been opened to him as to other good men. You
are not, then, to speak evil of him, but to pity the folly of
men: and through him men’s danger is imminent.”

Who is so foolish as not to see that these oracles were
either composed by a clever man with a strong animus against
the Christians, or were uttered as responses by impure demons
with a similar design,—that is to say, in order that their
praise of Christ may win credence for their vituperation of
Christians; and that thus they may, if possible, close the way
of eternal salvation, which is identical with Christianity?
For they believe that they are by no means counterworking
their own hurtful craft by promoting belief in Christ, so long
as their calumniation of Christians is also accepted; for they
thus secure that even the man who thinks well of Christ declines
to become a Christian, and is therefore not delivered
from their own rule by the Christ he praises. Besides, their
praise of Christ is so contrived that whosoever believes in
Him as thus represented will not be a true Christian but
a Photinian heretic, recognising only the humanity, and not
also the divinity of Christ, and will thus be precluded from
salvation and from deliverance out of the meshes of these
devilish lies. For our part, we are no better pleased with
Hecate’s praises of Christ than with Apollo’s calumniation of
Him. Apollo says that Christ was put to death by right-minded
judges, implying that He was unrighteous. Hecate
says that He was a most pious man, but no more. The intention
of both is the same, to prevent men from becoming Christians,
because if this be secured, men shall never be rescued
from their power. But it is incumbent on our philosopher, or
rather on those who believe in these pretended oracles against
the Christians, first of all, if they can, to bring Apollo and
Hecate to the same mind regarding Christ, so that either both
may condemn or both praise Him. And even if they succeeded
in this, we for our part would notwithstanding repudiate[Pg 337]
the testimony of demons, whether favourable or adverse to
Christ. But when our adversaries find a god and goddess of
their own at variance about Christ, the one praising, the other
vituperating Him, they can certainly give no credence, if they
have any judgment, to mere men who blaspheme the Christians.

When Porphyry or Hecate praises Christ, and adds that He
gave Himself to the Christians as a fatal gift, that they might
be involved in error, he exposes, as he thinks, the causes of
this error. But before I cite his words to that purpose, I
would ask, If Christ did thus give Himself to the Christians
to involve them in error, did He do so willingly, or against
His will? If willingly, how is He righteous? If against
His will, how is He blessed? However, let us hear the
causes of this error. “There are,” he says, “in a certain
place very small earthly spirits, subject to the power of evil
demons. The wise men of the Hebrews, among whom was
this Jesus, as you have heard from the oracles of Apollo cited
above, turned religious persons from these very wicked demons
and minor spirits, and taught them rather to worship the
celestial gods, and especially to adore God the Father. This,”
he said, “the gods enjoin; and we have already shown how
they admonish the soul to turn to God, and command it to
worship Him. But the ignorant and the ungodly, who are
not destined to receive favours from the gods, nor to know the
immortal Jupiter, not listening to the gods and their messages,
have turned away from all gods, and have not only refused to
hate, but have venerated the prohibited demons. Professing
to worship God, they refuse to do those things by which alone
God is worshipped. For God, indeed, being the Father of all,
is in need of nothing; but for us it is good to adore Him by
means of justice, chastity, and other virtues, and thus to make
life itself a prayer to Him, by inquiring into and imitating His
nature. For inquiry,” says he, “purifies and imitation deifies
us, by moving us nearer to Him.” He is right in so far as
he proclaims God the Father, and the conduct by which we
should worship Him. Of such precepts the prophetic books
of the Hebrews are full, when they praise or blame the life of
the saints. But in speaking of the Christians he is in error,[Pg 338]
and calumniates them as much as is desired by the demons
whom he takes for gods, as if it were difficult for any man to
recollect the disgraceful and shameful actions which used to
be done in the theatres and temples to please the gods, and
to compare with these things what is heard in our churches,
and what is offered to the true God, and from this comparison
to conclude where character is edified, and where it is ruined.
But who but a diabolical spirit has told or suggested to this
man so manifest and vain a lie, as that the Christians reverenced
rather than hated the demons, whose worship the Hebrews
prohibited? But that God, whom the Hebrew sages worshipped,
forbids sacrifice to be offered even to the holy angels
of heaven and divine powers, whom we, in this our pilgrimage,
venerate and love as our most blessed fellow-citizens. For in
the law which God gave to His Hebrew people He utters
this menace, as in a voice of thunder: “He that sacrificeth
unto any god, save unto the Lord only, he shall be utterly
destroyed.”[659] And that no one might suppose that this prohibition
extends only to the very wicked demons and earthly
spirits, whom this philosopher calls very small and inferior,—for
even these are in the Scripture called gods, not of the
Hebrews, but of the nations, as the Septuagint translators have
shown in the psalm where it is said, “For all the gods of the
nations are demons,”[660]—that no one might suppose, I say, that
sacrifice to these demons was prohibited, but that sacrifice
might be offered to all or some of the celestials, it was immediately
added, “save unto the Lord alone.”[661] The God of
the Hebrews, then, to whom this renowned philosopher bears
this signal testimony, gave to His Hebrew people a law,
composed in the Hebrew language, and not obscure and
unknown, but published now in every nation, and in this
law it is written, “He that sacrificeth unto any god, save
unto the Lord alone, he shall be utterly destroyed.” What
need is there to seek further proofs in the law or the prophets
of this same thing? Seek, we need not say, for the passages
are neither few nor difficult to find; but what need to collect[Pg 339]
and apply to my argument the proofs which are thickly sown
and obvious, and by which it appears clear as day that sacrifice
may be paid to none but the supreme and true God? Here
is one brief but decided, even menacing, and certainly true
utterance of that God whom the wisest of our adversaries so
highly extol. Let this be listened to, feared, fulfilled, that
there may be no disobedient soul cut off. “He that sacrifices,”
He says, not because He needs anything, but because it behoves
us to be His possession. Hence the Psalmist in the Hebrew
Scriptures sings, “I have said to the Lord, Thou art my God,
for Thou needest not my good.”[662] For we ourselves, who are
His own city, are His most noble and worthy sacrifice, and it
is this mystery we celebrate in our sacrifices, which are well
known to the faithful, as we have explained in the preceding
books. For through the prophets the oracles of God declared
that the sacrifices which the Jews offered as a shadow of that
which was to be would cease, and that the nations, from the
rising to the setting of the sun, would offer one sacrifice.
From these oracles, which we now see accomplished, we have
made such selections as seemed suitable to our purpose in this
work. And therefore, where there is not this righteousness
whereby the one supreme God rules the obedient city according
to His grace, so that it sacrifices to none but Him, and
whereby, in all the citizens of this obedient city, the soul consequently
rules the body and reason the vices in the rightful
order, so that, as the individual just man, so also the community
and people of the just, live by faith, which works by
love, that love whereby man loves God as He ought to be
loved, and his neighbour as himself,—there, I say, there is
not an assemblage associated by a common acknowledgment
of right, and by a community of interests. But if there is
not this, there is not a people, if our definition be true, and
therefore there is no republic; for where there is no people
there can be no republic.

24. The definition which must be given of a people and a republic, in order to
vindicate the assumption of these titles by the Romans and by other kingdoms.

But if we discard this definition of a people, and, assuming
another, say that a people is an assemblage of reasonable[Pg 340]
beings bound together by a common agreement as to the objects
of their love, then, in order to discover the character of any
people, we have only to observe what they love. Yet whatever
it loves, if only it is an assemblage of reasonable beings
and not of beasts, and is bound together by an agreement as
to the objects of love, it is reasonably called a people; and
it will be a superior people in proportion as it is bound together
by higher interests, inferior in proportion as it is bound
together by lower. According to this definition of ours, the
Roman people is a people, and its weal is without doubt a
commonwealth or republic. But what its tastes were in its
early and subsequent days, and how it declined into sanguinary
seditions and then to social and civil wars, and so burst
asunder or rotted off the bond of concord in which the health
of a people consists, history shows, and in the preceding books
I have related at large. And yet I would not on this account
say either that it was not a people, or that its administration
was not a republic, so long as there remains an assemblage of
reasonable beings bound together by a common agreement as
to the objects of love. But what I say of this people and of
this republic I must be understood to think and say of the
Athenians or any Greek state, of the Egyptians, of the early
Assyrian Babylon, and of every other nation, great or small,
which had a public government. For, in general, the city of
the ungodly, which did not obey the command of God that
it should offer no sacrifice save to Him alone, and which,
therefore, could not give to the soul its proper command over
the body, nor to the reason its just authority over the vices,
is void of true justice.

25. That where there is no true religion there are no true virtues.

For though the soul may seem to rule the body admirably,
and the reason the vices, if the soul and reason do not themselves
obey God, as God has commanded them to serve Him,
they have no proper authority over the body and the vices. For
what kind of mistress of the body and the vices can that mind
be which is ignorant of the true God, and which, instead of
being subject to His authority, is prostituted to the corrupting
influences of the most vicious demons? It is for this reason[Pg 341]
that the virtues which it seems to itself to possess, and by
which it restrains the body and the vices that it may obtain
and keep what it desires, are rather vices than virtues so long
as there is no reference to God in the matter. For although
some suppose that virtues which have a reference only to
themselves, and are desired only on their own account, are
yet true and genuine virtues, the fact is that even then they
are inflated with pride, and are therefore to be reckoned vices
rather than virtues. For as that which gives life to the flesh
is not derived from flesh, but is above it, so that which gives
blessed life to man is not derived from man, but is something
above him; and what I say of man is true of every celestial
power and virtue whatsoever.

26. Of the peace which is enjoyed by the people that are alienated from God, and
the use made of it by the people of God in the time of its pilgrimage.

Wherefore, as the life of the flesh is the soul, so the blessed
life of man is God, of whom the sacred writings of the Hebrews
say, “Blessed is the people whose God is the Lord.”[663] Miserable,
therefore, is the people which is alienated from God. Yet
even this people has a peace of its own which is not to be
lightly esteemed, though, indeed, it shall not in the end enjoy
it, because it makes no good use of it before the end. But it
is our interest that it enjoy this peace meanwhile in this life;
for as long as the two cities are commingled, we also enjoy the
peace of Babylon. For from Babylon the people of God is so
freed that it meanwhile sojourns in its company. And therefore
the apostle also admonished the Church to pray for kings
and those in authority, assigning as the reason, “that we may
live a quiet and tranquil life in all godliness and love.”[664]
And the prophet Jeremiah, when predicting the captivity that
was to befall the ancient people of God, and giving them the
divine command to go obediently to Babylonia, and thus serve
their God, counselled them also to pray for Babylonia, saying,
“In the peace thereof shall ye have peace,”[665]—the temporal
peace which the good and the wicked together enjoy.

27. That the peace of those who serve God cannot in this mortal life be
apprehended in its perfection.

But the peace which is peculiar to ourselves we enjoy now[Pg 342]
with God by faith, and shall hereafter enjoy eternally with
Him by sight. But the peace which we enjoy in this life,
whether common to all or peculiar to ourselves, is rather the
solace of our misery than the positive enjoyment of felicity.
Our very righteousness, too, though true in so far as it has
respect to the true good, is yet in this life of such a kind that
it consists rather in the remission of sins than in the perfecting
of virtues. Witness the prayer of the whole city of God
in its pilgrim state, for it cries to God by the mouth of all its
members, “Forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors.”[666]
And this prayer is efficacious not for those whose faith is
“without works and dead,”[667] but for those whose faith “worketh
by love.”[668] For as reason, though subjected to God, is yet
“pressed down by the corruptible body,”[669] so long as it is in
this mortal condition, it has not perfect authority over vice,
and therefore this prayer is needed by the righteous. For
though it exercises authority, the vices do not submit without
a struggle. For however well one maintains the conflict, and
however thoroughly he has subdued these enemies, there steals
in some evil thing, which, if it do not find ready expression in
act, slips out by the lips, or insinuates itself into the thought;
and therefore his peace is not full so long as he is at war
with his vices. For it is a doubtful conflict he wages with
those that resist, and his victory over those that are defeated
is not secure, but full of anxiety and effort. Amidst these
temptations, therefore, of all which it has been summarily
said in the divine oracles, “Is not human life upon earth a
temptation?”[670] who but a proud man can presume that he so
lives that he has no need to say to God, “Forgive us our
debts?” And such a man is not great, but swollen and puffed
up with vanity, and is justly resisted by Him who abundantly
gives grace to the humble. Whence it is said, “God resisteth
the proud, but giveth grace to the humble.”[671] In this, then,
consists the righteousness of a man, that he submit himself to
God, his body to his soul, and his vices, even when they rebel,
to his reason, which either defeats or at least resists them;[Pg 343]
and also that he beg from God grace to do his duty,[672] and the
pardon of his sins, and that he render to God thanks for all
the blessings he receives. But, in that final peace to which
all our righteousness has reference, and for the sake of which
it is maintained, as our nature shall enjoy a sound immortality
and incorruption, and shall have no more vices, and as we
shall experience no resistance either from ourselves or from
others, it will not be necessary that reason should rule vices
which no longer exist, but God shall rule the man, and the
soul shall rule the body, with a sweetness and facility suitable
to the felicity of a life which is done with bondage. And
this condition shall there be eternal, and we shall be assured
of its eternity; and thus the peace of this blessedness and
the blessedness of this peace shall be the supreme good.

28. The end of the wicked.

But, on the other hand, they who do not belong to this city
of God shall inherit eternal misery, which is also called the
second death, because the soul shall then be separated from
God its life, and therefore cannot be said to live, and the
body shall be subjected to eternal pains. And consequently
this second death shall be the more severe, because no death
shall terminate it. But war being contrary to peace, as misery
to happiness, and life to death, it is not without reason asked
what kind of war can be found in the end of the wicked
answering to the peace which is declared to be the end of the
righteous? The person who puts this question has only to
observe what it is in war that is hurtful and destructive, and he
shall see that it is nothing else than the mutual opposition and
conflict of things. And can he conceive a more grievous and
bitter war than that in which the will is so opposed to passion,
and passion to the will, that their hostility can never be terminated
by the victory of either, and in which the violence
of pain so conflicts with the nature of the body, that neither
yields to the other? For in this life, when this conflict has
arisen, either pain conquers and death expels the feeling of it,
or nature conquers and health expels the pain. But in the
world to come the pain continues that it may torment, and[Pg 344]
the nature endures that it may be sensible of it; and neither
ceases to exist, lest punishment also should cease. Now, as it
is through the last judgment that men pass to these ends,
the good to the supreme good, the evil to the supreme evil,
I will treat of this judgment in the following book.

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