which they inserted organs to minister in all things to the
providence of the soul, and they appointed this part, which has
authority, to be by nature the part which is in front. And of the
organs they first contrived the eyes to give light, and the
principle according to which they were inserted was as follows:
So much of fire as would not burn, but gave a gentle light, they
formed into a substance akin to the light of every-day life; and
the pure fire which is within us and related thereto they made to
flow through the eyes in a stream smooth and dense, compressing
the whole eye, and especially the centre part, so that it kept
out everything of a coarser nature, and allowed to pass only this
pure element. When the light of day surrounds the stream of
vision, then like falls upon like, and they coalesce, and one
body is formed by natural affinity in the line of vision,
wherever the light that falls from within meets with an external
object. And the whole stream of vision, being similarly affected
in virtue of similarity, diffuses the motions of what it touches
or what touches it over the whole body, until they reach the
soul, causing that perception which we call sight. But when night
comes on and the external and kindred fire departs, then the
stream of vision is cut off; for going forth to an unlike element
it is changed and extinguished, being no longer of one nature
with the surrounding atmosphere which is now deprived of fire:
and so the eye no longer sees, and we feel disposed to sleep. For
when the eyelids, which the gods invented for the preservation of
sight, are closed, they keep in the internal fire; and the power
of the fire diffuses and equalizes the inward motions; when they
are equalized, there is rest, and when the rest is profound,
sleep comes over us scarce disturbed by dreams; but where the
greater motions still remain, of whatever nature and in whatever
locality, they engender corresponding visions in dreams, which
are remembered by us when we are awake and in the external world.
And now there is no longer any difficulty in understanding the
creation of images in mirrors and all smooth and bright surfaces.
For from the communion of the internal and external fires, and
again from the union of them and their numerous transformations
when they meet in the mirror, all these appearances of necessity
arise, when the fire from the face coalesces with the fire from
the eye on the bright and smooth surface. And right appears left
and left right, because the visual rays come into contact with
the rays emitted by the object in a manner contrary to the usual
mode of meeting; but the right appears right, and the left left,
when the position of one of the two concurring lights is
reversed; and this happens when the mirror is concave and its
smooth surface repels the right stream of vision to the left
side, and the left to the right (He is speaking of two kinds of
mirrors, first the plane, secondly the concave; and the latter is
supposed to be placed, first horizontally, and then vertically.).
Or if the mirror be turned vertically, then the concavity makes
the countenance appear to be all upside down, and the lower rays
are driven upwards and the upper downwards.
All these are to be reckoned among the second and co-operative
causes which God, carrying into execution the idea of the best as
far as possible, uses as his ministers. They are thought by most
men not to be the second, but the prime causes of all things,
because they freeze and heat, and contract and dilate, and the
like. But they are not so, for they are incapable of reason or
intellect; the only being which can properly have mind is the
invisible soul, whereas fire and water, and earth and air, are
all of them visible bodies. The lover of intellect and knowledge
ought to explore causes of intelligent nature first of all, and,
secondly, of those things which, being moved by others, are
compelled to move others. And this is what we too must do. Both
kinds of causes should be acknowledged by us, but a distinction
should be made between those which are endowed with mind and are
the workers of things fair and good, and those which are deprived
of intelligence and always produce chance effects without order
or design. Of the second or co-operative causes of sight, which
help to give to the eyes the power which they now possess, enough
has been said. I will therefore now proceed to speak of the
higher use and purpose for which God has given them to us. The
sight in my opinion is the source of the greatest benefit to us,
for had we never seen the stars, and the sun, and the heaven,
none of the words which we have spoken about the universe would
ever have been uttered. But now the sight of day and night, and
the months and the revolutions of the years, have created number,
and have given us a conception of time, and the power of
enquiring about the nature of the universe; and from this source
we have derived philosophy, than which no greater good ever was
or will be given by the gods to mortal man. This is the greatest
boon of sight: and of the lesser benefits why should I speak?
even the ordinary man if he were deprived of them would bewail
his loss, but in vain. Thus much let me say however: God invented
and gave us sight to the end that we might behold the courses of
intelligence in the heaven, and apply them to the courses of our
own intelligence which are akin to them, the unperturbed to the
perturbed; and that we, learning them and partaking of the
natural truth of reason, might imitate the absolutely unerring
courses of God and regulate our own vagaries. The same may be
affirmed of speech and hearing: they have been given by the gods
to the same end and for a like reason. For this is the principal
end of speech, whereto it most contributes. Moreover, so much of
music as is adapted to the sound of the voice and to the sense of
hearing is granted to us for the sake of harmony; and harmony,
which has motions akin to the revolutions of our souls, is not
regarded by the intelligent votary of the Muses as given by them
with a view to irrational pleasure, which is deemed to be the
purpose of it in our day, but as meant to correct any discord
which may have arisen in the courses of the soul, and to be our
ally in bringing her into harmony and agreement with herself; and
rhythm too was given by them for the same reason, on account of
the irregular and graceless ways which prevail among mankind
generally, and to help us against them.
Thus far in what we have been saying, with small exception, the
works of intelligence have been set forth; and now we must place
by the side of them in our discourse the things which come into
being through necessity—for the creation is mixed, being made up
of necessity and mind. Mind, the ruling power, persuaded
necessity to bring the greater part of created things to
perfection, and thus and after this manner in the beginning, when
the influence of reason got the better of necessity, the universe
was created. But if a person will truly tell of the way in which
the work was accomplished, he must include the other influence of
the variable cause as well. Wherefore, we must return again and
find another suitable beginning, as about the former matters, so
also about these. To which end we must consider the nature of
fire, and water, and air, and earth, such as they were prior to
the creation of the heaven, and what was happening to them in
this previous state; for no one has as yet explained the manner
of their generation, but we speak of fire and the rest of them,
whatever they mean, as though men knew their natures, and we
maintain them to be the first principles and letters or elements
of the whole, when they cannot reasonably be compared by a man of
any sense even to syllables or first compounds. And let me say
thus much: I will not now speak of the first principle or
principles of all things, or by whatever name they are to be
called, for this reason—because it is difficult to set forth my
opinion according to the method of discussion which we are at
present employing. Do not imagine, any more than I can bring
myself to imagine, that I should be right in undertaking so great
and difficult a task. Remembering what I said at first about
probability, I will do my best to give as probable an explanation
as any other—or rather, more probable; and I will first go back
to the beginning and try to speak of each thing and of all. Once
more, then, at the commencement of my discourse, I call upon God,
and beg him to be our saviour out of a strange and unwonted
enquiry, and to bring us to the haven of probability. So now let
us begin again.
This new beginning of our discussion of the universe requires a
fuller division than the former; for then we made two classes,
now a third must be revealed. The two sufficed for the former
discussion: one, which we assumed, was a pattern intelligible and
always the same; and the second was only the imitation of the
pattern, generated and visible. There is also a third kind which
we did not distinguish at the time, conceiving that the two would
be enough. But now the argument seems to require that we should
set forth in words another kind, which is difficult of
explanation and dimly seen. What nature are we to attribute to
this new kind of being? We reply, that it is the receptacle, and
in a manner the nurse, of all generation. I have spoken the
truth; but I must express myself in clearer language, and this
will be an arduous task for many reasons, and in particular
because I must first raise questions concerning fire and the
other elements, and determine what each of them is; for to say,
with any probability or certitude, which of them should be called
water rather than fire, and which should be called any of them
rather than all or some one of them, is a difficult matter. How,
then, shall we settle this point, and what questions about the
elements may be fairly raised?
In the first place, we see that what we just now called water, by
condensation, I suppose, becomes stone and earth; and this same
element, when melted and dispersed, passes into vapour and air.
Air, again, when inflamed, becomes fire; and again fire, when
condensed and extinguished, passes once more into the form of
air; and once more, air, when collected and condensed, produces
cloud and mist; and from these, when still more compressed, comes
flowing water, and from water comes earth and stones once more;
and thus generation appears to be transmitted from one to the
other in a circle. Thus, then, as the several elements never
present themselves in the same form, how can any one have the
assurance to assert positively that any of them, whatever it may
be, is one thing rather than another? No one can. But much the
safest plan is to speak of them as follows:—Anything which we see
to be continually changing, as, for example, fire, we must not
call ‘this’ or ‘that,’ but rather say that it is ‘of such a
nature’; nor let us speak of water as ‘this’; but always as
‘such’; nor must we imply that there is any stability in any of
those things which we indicate by the use of the words ‘this’ and
‘that,’ supposing ourselves to signify something thereby; for
they are too volatile to be detained in any such expressions as
‘this,’ or ‘that,’ or ‘relative to this,’ or any other mode of
speaking which represents them as permanent. We ought not to
apply ‘this’ to any of them, but rather the word ‘such’; which
expresses the similar principle circulating in each and all of
them; for example, that should be called ‘fire’ which is of such
a nature always, and so of everything that has generation. That
in which the elements severally grow up, and appear, and decay,
is alone to be called by the name ‘this’ or ‘that’; but that
which is of a certain nature, hot or white, or anything which
admits of opposite qualities, and all things that are compounded
of them, ought not to be so denominated. Let me make another
attempt to explain my meaning more clearly. Suppose a person to
make all kinds of figures of gold and to be always transmuting
one form into all the rest;—somebody points to one of them and
asks what it is. By far the safest and truest answer is, That is
gold; and not to call the triangle or any other figures which are
formed in the gold ‘these,’ as though they had existence, since
they are in process of change while he is making the assertion;
but if the questioner be willing to take the safe and indefinite
expression, ‘such,’ we should be satisfied. And the same argument
applies to the universal nature which receives all bodies—that
must be always called the same; for, while receiving all things,
she never departs at all from her own nature, and never in any
way, or at any time, assumes a form like that of any of the
things which enter into her; she is the natural recipient of all
impressions, and is stirred and informed by them, and appears
different from time to time by reason of them. But the forms
which enter into and go out of her are the likenesses of real
existences modelled after their patterns in a wonderful and
inexplicable manner, which we will hereafter investigate. For the
present we have only to conceive of three natures: first, that
which is in process of generation; secondly, that in which the
generation takes place; and thirdly, that of which the thing
generated is a resemblance. And we may liken the receiving
principle to a mother, and the source or spring to a father, and
the intermediate nature to a child; and may remark further, that
if the model is to take every variety of form, then the matter in
which the model is fashioned will not be duly prepared, unless it
is formless, and free from the impress of any of those shapes
which it is hereafter to receive from without. For if the matter
were like any of the supervening forms, then whenever any
opposite or entirely different nature was stamped upon its
surface, it would take the impression badly, because it would
intrude its own shape. Wherefore, that which is to receive all
forms should have no form; as in making perfumes they first
contrive that the liquid substance which is to receive the scent
shall be as inodorous as possible; or as those who wish to
impress figures on soft substances do not allow any previous
impression to remain, but begin by making the surface as even and
smooth as possible. In the same way that which is to receive
perpetually and through its whole extent the resemblances of all
eternal beings ought to be devoid of any particular form.
Wherefore, the mother and receptacle of all created and visible
and in any way sensible things, is not to be termed earth, or
air, or fire, or water, or any of their compounds or any of the
elements from which these are derived, but is an invisible and
formless being which receives all things and in some mysterious
way partakes of the intelligible, and is most incomprehensible.
In saying this we shall not be far wrong; as far, however, as we
can attain to a knowledge of her from the previous
considerations, we may truly say that fire is that part of her
nature which from time to time is inflamed, and water that which
is moistened, and that the mother substance becomes earth and
air, in so far as she receives the impressions of them.
Let us consider this question more precisely. Is there any
self-existent fire? and do all those things which we call
self-existent exist? or are only those things which we see, or in
some way perceive through the bodily organs, truly existent, and
nothing whatever besides them? And is all that which we call an
intelligible essence nothing at all, and only a name? Here is a
question which we must not leave unexamined or undetermined, nor
must we affirm too confidently that there can be no decision;
neither must we interpolate in our present long discourse a
digression equally long, but if it is possible to set forth a
great principle in a few words, that is just what we want.
Thus I state my view:—If mind and true opinion are two distinct
classes, then I say that there certainly are these self-existent
ideas unperceived by sense, and apprehended only by the mind; if,
however, as some say, true opinion differs in no respect from
mind, then everything that we perceive through the body is to be
regarded as most real and certain. But we must affirm them to be
distinct, for they have a distinct origin and are of a different
nature; the one is implanted in us by instruction, the other by
persuasion; the one is always accompanied by true reason, the
other is without reason; the one cannot be overcome by
persuasion, but the other can: and lastly, every man may be said
to share in true opinion, but mind is the attribute of the gods
and of very few men. Wherefore also we must acknowledge that
there is one kind of being which is always the same, uncreated
and indestructible, never receiving anything into itself from
without, nor itself going out to any other, but invisible and
imperceptible by any sense, and of which the contemplation is
granted to intelligence only. And there is another nature of the
same name with it, and like to it, perceived by sense, created,
always in motion, becoming in place and again vanishing out of
place, which is apprehended by opinion and sense. And there is a
third nature, which is space, and is eternal, and admits not of
destruction and provides a home for all created things, and is
apprehended without the help of sense, by a kind of spurious
reason, and is hardly real; which we beholding as in a dream, say
of all existence that it must of necessity be in some place and
occupy a space, but that what is neither in heaven nor in earth
has no existence. Of these and other things of the same kind,
relating to the true and waking reality of nature, we have only
this dreamlike sense, and we are unable to cast off sleep and
determine the truth about them. For an image, since the reality,
after which it is modelled, does not belong to it, and it exists
ever as the fleeting shadow of some other, must be inferred to be
in another (i.e. in space), grasping existence in some way or
other, or it could not be at all. But true and exact reason,
vindicating the nature of true being, maintains that while two
things (i.e. the image and space) are different they cannot exist
one of them in the other and so be one and also two at the same
time.
Thus have I concisely given the result of my thoughts; and my
verdict is that being and space and generation, these three,
existed in their three ways before the heaven; and that the nurse
of generation, moistened by water and inflamed by fire, and
receiving the forms of earth and air, and experiencing all the
affections which accompany these, presented a strange variety of
appearances; and being full of powers which were neither similar
nor equally balanced, was never in any part in a state of
equipoise, but swaying unevenly hither and thither, was shaken by
them, and by its motion again shook them; and the elements when
moved were separated and carried continually, some one way, some
another; as, when grain is shaken and winnowed by fans and other
instruments used in the threshing of corn, the close and heavy
particles are borne away and settle in one direction, and the
loose and light particles in another. In this manner, the four
kinds or elements were then shaken by the receiving vessel,
which, moving like a winnowing machine, scattered far away from
one another the elements most unlike, and forced the most similar
elements into close contact. Wherefore also the various elements
had different places before they were arranged so as to form the
universe. At first, they were all without reason and measure. But
when the world began to get into order, fire and water and earth
and air had only certain faint traces of themselves, and were
altogether such as everything might be expected to be in the
absence of God; this, I say, was their nature at that time, and
God fashioned them by form and number. Let it be consistently
maintained by us in all that we say that God made them as far as
possible the fairest and best, out of things which were not fair
and good. And now I will endeavour to show you the disposition
and generation of them by an unaccustomed argument, which I am
compelled to use; but I believe that you will be able to follow
me, for your education has made you familiar with the methods of
science.
In the first place, then, as is evident to all, fire and earth
and water and air are bodies. And every sort of body possesses
solidity, and every solid must necessarily be contained in
planes; and every plane rectilinear figure is composed of
triangles; and all triangles are originally of two kinds, both of
which are made up of one right and two acute angles; one of them
has at either end of the base the half of a divided right angle,
having equal sides, while in the other the right angle is divided
into unequal parts, having unequal sides. These, then, proceeding
by a combination of probability with demonstration, we assume to
be the original elements of fire and the other bodies; but the
principles which are prior to these God only knows, and he of men
who is the friend of God. And next we have to determine what are
the four most beautiful bodies which are unlike one another, and
of which some are capable of resolution into one another; for
having discovered thus much, we shall know the true origin of
earth and fire and of the proportionate and intermediate
elements. And then we shall not be willing to allow that there
are any distinct kinds of visible bodies fairer than these.
Wherefore we must endeavour to construct the four forms of bodies
which excel in beauty, and then we shall be able to say that we
have sufficiently apprehended their nature. Now of the two
triangles, the isosceles has one form only; the scalene or
unequal-sided has an infinite number. Of the infinite forms we
must select the most beautiful, if we are to proceed in due
order, and any one who can point out a more beautiful form than
ours for the construction of these bodies, shall carry off the
palm, not as an enemy, but as a friend. Now, the one which we
maintain to be the most beautiful of all the many triangles (and
we need not speak of the others) is that of which the double
forms a third triangle which is equilateral; the reason of this
would be long to tell; he who disproves what we are saying, and
shows that we are mistaken, may claim a friendly victory. Then
let us choose two triangles, out of which fire and the other
elements have been constructed, one isosceles, the other having
the square of the longer side equal to three times the square of
the lesser side.
Now is the time to explain what was before obscurely said: there
was an error in imagining that all the four elements might be
generated by and into one another; this, I say, was an erroneous
supposition, for there are generated from the triangles which we
have selected four kinds—three from the one which has the sides
unequal; the fourth alone is framed out of the isosceles
triangle. Hence they cannot all be resolved into one another, a
great number of small bodies being combined into a few large
ones, or the converse. But three of them can be thus resolved and
compounded, for they all spring from one, and when the greater
bodies are broken up, many small bodies will spring up out of
them and take their own proper figures; or, again, when many
small bodies are dissolved into their triangles, if they become
one, they will form one large mass of another kind. So much for
their passage into one another. I have now to speak of their
several kinds, and show out of what combinations of numbers each
of them was formed. The first will be the simplest and smallest
construction, and its element is that triangle which has its
hypotenuse twice the lesser side. When two such triangles are
joined at the diagonal, and this is repeated three times, and the
triangles rest their diagonals and shorter sides on the same
point as a centre, a single equilateral triangle is formed out of
six triangles; and four equilateral triangles, if put together,
make out of every three plane angles one solid angle, being that
which is nearest to the most obtuse of plane angles; and out of
the combination of these four angles arises the first solid form
which distributes into equal and similar parts the whole circle
in which it is inscribed. The second species of solid is formed
out of the same triangles, which unite as eight equilateral
triangles and form one solid angle out of four plane angles, and
out of six such angles the second body is completed. And the
third body is made up of 120 triangular elements, forming twelve
solid angles, each of them included in five plane equilateral
triangles, having altogether twenty bases, each of which is an
equilateral triangle. The one element (that is, the triangle
which has its hypotenuse twice the lesser side) having generated
these figures, generated no more; but the isosceles triangle
produced the fourth elementary figure, which is compounded of
four such triangles, joining their right angles in a centre, and
forming one equilateral quadrangle. Six of these united form
eight solid angles, each of which is made by the combination of
three plane right angles; the figure of the body thus composed is
a cube, having six plane quadrangular equilateral bases. There
was yet a fifth combination which God used in the delineation of
the universe.
Now, he who, duly reflecting on all this, enquires whether the
worlds are to be regarded as indefinite or definite in number,
will be of opinion that the notion of their indefiniteness is
characteristic of a sadly indefinite and ignorant mind. He,
however, who raises the question whether they are to be truly
regarded as one or five, takes up a more reasonable position.
Arguing from probabilities, I am of opinion that they are one;
another, regarding the question from another point of view, will
be of another mind. But, leaving this enquiry, let us proceed to
distribute the elementary forms, which have now been created in
idea, among the four elements.
To earth, then, let us assign the cubical form; for earth is the
most immoveable of the four and the most plastic of all bodies,
and that which has the most stable bases must of necessity be of
such a nature. Now, of the triangles which we assumed at first,
that which has two equal sides is by nature more firmly based
than that which has unequal sides; and of the compound figures
which are formed out of either, the plane equilateral quadrangle
has necessarily a more stable basis than the equilateral
triangle, both in the whole and in the parts. Wherefore, in
assigning this figure to earth, we adhere to probability; and to
water we assign that one of the remaining forms which is the
least moveable; and the most moveable of them to fire; and to air
that which is intermediate. Also we assign the smallest body to
fire, and the greatest to water, and the intermediate in size to
air; and, again, the acutest body to fire, and the next in
acuteness to air, and the third to water. Of all these elements,
that which has the fewest bases must necessarily be the most
moveable, for it must be the acutest and most penetrating in
every way, and also the lightest as being composed of the
smallest number of similar particles: and the second body has
similar properties in a second degree, and the third body in the
third degree. Let it be agreed, then, both according to strict
reason and according to probability, that the pyramid is the
solid which is the original element and seed of fire; and let us
assign the element which was next in the order of generation to
air, and the third to water. We must imagine all these to be so
small that no single particle of any of the four kinds is seen by
us on account of their smallness: but when many of them are
collected together their aggregates are seen. And the ratios of
their numbers, motions, and other properties, everywhere God, as
far as necessity allowed or gave consent, has exactly perfected,
and harmonized in due proportion.
From all that we have just been saying about the elements or
kinds, the most probable conclusion is as follows:—earth, when
meeting with fire and dissolved by its sharpness, whether the
dissolution take place in the fire itself or perhaps in some mass
of air or water, is borne hither and thither, until its parts,
meeting together and mutually harmonising, again become earth;
for they can never take any other form. But water, when divided
by fire or by air, on re-forming, may become one part fire and
two parts air; and a single volume of air divided becomes two of
fire. Again, when a small body of fire is contained in a larger
body of air or water or earth, and both are moving, and the fire
struggling is overcome and broken up, then two volumes of fire
form one volume of air; and when air is overcome and cut up into
small pieces, two and a half parts of air are condensed into one
part of water. Let us consider the matter in another way. When
one of the other elements is fastened upon by fire, and is cut by
the sharpness of its angles and sides, it coalesces with the
fire, and then ceases to be cut by them any longer. For no
element which is one and the same with itself can be changed by
or change another of the same kind and in the same state. But so
long as in the process of transition the weaker is fighting
against the stronger, the dissolution continues. Again, when a
few small particles, enclosed in many larger ones, are in process
of decomposition and extinction, they only cease from their
tendency to extinction when they consent to pass into the
conquering nature, and fire becomes air and air water. But if
bodies of another kind go and attack them (i.e. the small
particles), the latter continue to be dissolved until, being
completely forced back and dispersed, they make their escape to
their own kindred, or else, being overcome and assimilated to the
conquering power, they remain where they are and dwell with their
victors, and from being many become one. And owing to these
affections, all things are changing their place, for by the
motion of the receiving vessel the bulk of each class is
distributed into its proper place; but those things which become
unlike themselves and like other things, are hurried by the
shaking into the place of the things to which they grow like.
Now all unmixed and primary bodies are produced by such causes as
these. As to the subordinate species which are included in the
greater kinds, they are to be attributed to the varieties in the
structure of the two original triangles. For either structure did
not originally produce the triangle of one size only, but some
larger and some smaller, and there are as many sizes as there are
species of the four elements. Hence when they are mingled with
themselves and with one another there is an endless variety of
them, which those who would arrive at the probable truth of
nature ought duly to consider.
Unless a person comes to an understanding about the nature and
conditions of rest and motion, he will meet with many
difficulties in the discussion which follows. Something has been
said of this matter already, and something more remains to be
said, which is, that motion never exists in what is uniform. For
to conceive that anything can be moved without a mover is hard or
indeed impossible, and equally impossible to conceive that there
can be a mover unless there be something which can be
moved—motion cannot exist where either of these are wanting, and
for these to be uniform is impossible; wherefore we must assign
rest to uniformity and motion to the want of uniformity. Now
inequality is the cause of the nature which is wanting in
uniformity; and of this we have already described the origin. But
there still remains the further point—why things when divided
after their kinds do not cease to pass through one another and to
change their place—which we will now proceed to explain. In the
revolution of the universe are comprehended all the four
elements, and this being circular and having a tendency to come
together, compresses everything and will not allow any place to
be left void. Wherefore, also, fire above all things penetrates
everywhere, and air next, as being next in rarity of the
elements; and the two other elements in like manner penetrate
according to their degrees of rarity. For those things which are
composed of the largest particles have the largest void left in
their compositions, and those which are composed of the smallest
particles have the least. And the contraction caused by the
compression thrusts the smaller particles into the interstices of
the larger. And thus, when the small parts are placed side by
side with the larger, and the lesser divide the greater and the
greater unite the lesser, all the elements are borne up and down
and hither and thither towards their own places; for the change
in the size of each changes its position in space. And these
causes generate an inequality which is always maintained, and is
continually creating a perpetual motion of the elements in all
time.
In the next place we have to consider that there are divers kinds
of fire. There are, for example, first, flame; and secondly,
those emanations of flame which do not burn but only give light
to the eyes; thirdly, the remains of fire, which are seen in
red-hot embers after the flame has been extinguished. There are
similar differences in the air; of which the brightest part is
called the aether, and the most turbid sort mist and darkness;
and there are various other nameless kinds which arise from the
inequality of the triangles. Water, again, admits in the first
place of a division into two kinds; the one liquid and the other
fusile. The liquid kind is composed of the small and unequal
particles of water; and moves itself and is moved by other bodies
owing to the want of uniformity and the shape of its particles;
whereas the fusile kind, being formed of large and uniform
particles, is more stable than the other, and is heavy and
compact by reason of its uniformity. But when fire gets in and
dissolves the particles and destroys the uniformity, it has
greater mobility, and becoming fluid is thrust forth by the
neighbouring air and spreads upon the earth; and this dissolution
of the solid masses is called melting, and their spreading out
upon the earth flowing. Again, when the fire goes out of the
fusile substance, it does not pass into a vacuum, but into the
neighbouring air; and the air which is displaced forces together
the liquid and still moveable mass into the place which was
occupied by the fire, and unites it with itself. Thus compressed
the mass resumes its equability, and is again at unity with
itself, because the fire which was the author of the inequality
has retreated; and this departure of the fire is called cooling,
and the coming together which follows upon it is termed
congealment. Of all the kinds termed fusile, that which is the
densest and is formed out of the finest and most uniform parts is
that most precious possession called gold, which is hardened by
filtration through rock; this is unique in kind, and has both a
glittering and a yellow colour. A shoot of gold, which is so
dense as to be very hard, and takes a black colour, is termed
adamant. There is also another kind which has parts nearly like
gold, and of which there are several species; it is denser than
gold, and it contains a small and fine portion of earth, and is
therefore harder, yet also lighter because of the great
interstices which it has within itself; and this substance, which
is one of the bright and denser kinds of water, when solidified
is called copper. There is an alloy of earth mingled with it,
which, when the two parts grow old and are disunited, shows
itself separately and is called rust. The remaining phenomena of
the same kind there will be no difficulty in reasoning out by the
method of probabilities. A man may sometimes set aside
meditations about eternal things, and for recreation turn to
consider the truths of generation which are probable only; he
will thus gain a pleasure not to be repented of, and secure for
himself while he lives a wise and moderate pastime. Let us grant
ourselves this indulgence, and go through the probabilities
relating to the same subjects which follow next in order.
Water which is mingled with fire, so much as is fine and liquid
(being so called by reason of its motion and the way in which it
rolls along the ground), and soft, because its bases give way and
are less stable than those of earth, when separated from fire and
air and isolated, becomes more uniform, and by their retirement
is compressed into itself; and if the condensation be very great,
the water above the earth becomes hail, but on the earth, ice;
and that which is congealed in a less degree and is only half
solid, when above the earth is called snow, and when upon the
earth, and condensed from dew, hoar-frost. Then, again, there are
the numerous kinds of water which have been mingled with one
another, and are distilled through plants which grow in the
earth; and this whole class is called by the name of juices or
saps. The unequal admixture of these fluids creates a variety of
species; most of them are nameless, but four which are of a fiery
nature are clearly distinguished and have names. First, there is
wine, which warms the soul as well as the body: secondly, there
is the oily nature, which is smooth and divides the visual ray,
and for this reason is bright and shining and of a glistening
appearance, including pitch, the juice of the castor berry, oil
itself, and other things of a like kind: thirdly, there is the
class of substances which expand the contracted parts of the
mouth, until they return to their natural state, and by reason of
this property create sweetness;—these are included under the
general name of honey: and, lastly, there is a frothy nature,
which differs from all juices, having a burning quality which
dissolves the flesh; it is called opos (a vegetable acid).
As to the kinds of earth, that which is filtered through water
passes into stone in the following manner:—The water which mixes
with the earth and is broken up in the process changes into air,
and taking this form mounts into its own place. But as there is
no surrounding vacuum it thrusts away the neighbouring air, and
this being rendered heavy, and, when it is displaced, having been
poured around the mass of earth, forcibly compresses it and
drives it into the vacant space whence the new air had come up;
and the earth when compressed by the air into an indissoluble
union with water becomes rock. The fairer sort is that which is
made up of equal and similar parts and is transparent; that which
has the opposite qualities is inferior. But when all the watery
part is suddenly drawn out by fire, a more brittle substance is
formed, to which we give the name of pottery. Sometimes also
moisture may remain, and the earth which has been fused by fire
becomes, when cool, a certain stone of a black colour. A like
separation of the water which had been copiously mingled with
them may occur in two substances composed of finer particles of
earth and of a briny nature; out of either of them a
half-solid-body is then formed, soluble in water—the one, soda,
which is used for purging away oil and earth, the other, salt,
which harmonizes so well in combinations pleasing to the palate,
and is, as the law testifies, a substance dear to the gods. The
compounds of earth and water are not soluble by water, but by
fire only, and for this reason:—Neither fire nor air melt masses
of earth; for their particles, being smaller than the interstices
in its structure, have plenty of room to move without forcing
their way, and so they leave the earth unmelted and undissolved;
but particles of water, which are larger, force a passage, and
dissolve and melt the earth. Wherefore earth when not
consolidated by force is dissolved by water only; when
consolidated, by nothing but fire; for this is the only body
which can find an entrance. The cohesion of water again, when
very strong, is dissolved by fire only—when weaker, then either
by air or fire—the former entering the interstices, and the
latter penetrating even the triangles. But nothing can dissolve
air, when strongly condensed, which does not reach the elements
or triangles; or if not strongly condensed, then only fire can
dissolve it. As to bodies composed of earth and water, while the
water occupies the vacant interstices of the earth in them which
are compressed by force, the particles of water which approach
them from without, finding no entrance, flow around the entire
mass and leave it undissolved; but the particles of fire,
entering into the interstices of the water, do to the water what
water does to earth and fire to air (The text seems to be
corrupt.), and are the sole causes of the compound body of earth
and water liquefying and becoming fluid. Now these bodies are of
two kinds; some of them, such as glass and the fusible sort of
stones, have less water than they have earth; on the other hand,
substances of the nature of wax and incense have more of water
entering into their composition.
I have thus shown the various classes of bodies as they are
diversified by their forms and combinations and changes into one
another, and now I must endeavour to set forth their affections
and the causes of them. In the first place, the bodies which I
have been describing are necessarily objects of sense. But we
have not yet considered the origin of flesh, or what belongs to
flesh, or of that part of the soul which is mortal. And these
things cannot be adequately explained without also explaining the
affections which are concerned with sensation, nor the latter
without the former: and yet to explain them together is hardly
possible; for which reason we must assume first one or the other
and afterwards examine the nature of our hypothesis. In order,
then, that the affections may follow regularly after the
elements, let us presuppose the existence of body and soul.
First, let us enquire what we mean by saying that fire is hot;
and about this we may reason from the dividing or cutting power
which it exercises on our bodies. We all of us feel that fire is
sharp; and we may further consider the fineness of the sides, and
the sharpness of the angles, and the smallness of the particles,
and the swiftness of the motion—all this makes the action of fire
violent and sharp, so that it cuts whatever it meets. And we must
not forget that the original figure of fire (i.e. the pyramid),
more than any other form, has a dividing power which cuts our
bodies into small pieces (Kepmatizei), and thus naturally
produces that affection which we call heat; and hence the origin
of the name (thepmos, Kepma). Now, the opposite of this is
sufficiently manifest; nevertheless we will not fail to describe
it. For the larger particles of moisture which surround the body,
entering in and driving out the lesser, but not being able to
take their places, compress the moist principle in us; and this
from being unequal and disturbed, is forced by them into a state
of rest, which is due to equability and compression. But things
which are contracted contrary to nature are by nature at war, and
force themselves apart; and to this war and convulsion the name
of shivering and trembling is given; and the whole affection and
the cause of the affection are both termed cold. That is called
hard to which our flesh yields, and soft which yields to our
flesh; and things are also termed hard and soft relatively to one
another. That which yields has a small base; but that which rests
on quadrangular bases is firmly posed and belongs to the class
which offers the greatest resistance; so too does that which is
the most compact and therefore most repellent. The nature of the
light and the heavy will be best understood when examined in
connexion with our notions of above and below; for it is quite a
mistake to suppose that the universe is parted into two regions,
separate from and opposite to each other, the one a lower to
which all things tend which have any bulk, and an upper to which
things only ascend against their will. For as the universe is in
the form of a sphere, all the extremities, being equidistant from
the centre, are equally extremities, and the centre, which is
equidistant from them, is equally to be regarded as the opposite
of them all. Such being the nature of the world, when a person
says that any of these points is above or below, may he not be
justly charged with using an improper expression? For the centre
of the world cannot be rightly called either above or below, but
is the centre and nothing else; and the circumference is not the
centre, and has in no one part of itself a different relation to
the centre from what it has in any of the opposite parts. Indeed,
when it is in every direction similar, how can one rightly give
to it names which imply opposition? For if there were any solid
body in equipoise at the centre of the universe, there would be
nothing to draw it to this extreme rather than to that, for they
are all perfectly similar; and if a person were to go round the
world in a circle, he would often, when standing at the antipodes
of his former position, speak of the same point as above and
below; for, as I was saying just now, to speak of the whole which
is in the form of a globe as having one part above and another
below is not like a sensible man. The reason why these names are
used, and the circumstances under which they are ordinarily
applied by us to the division of the heavens, may be elucidated
by the following supposition:—if a person were to stand in that
part of the universe which is the appointed place of fire, and
where there is the great mass of fire to which fiery bodies
gather—if, I say, he were to ascend thither, and, having the
power to do this, were to abstract particles of fire and put them
in scales and weigh them, and then, raising the balance, were to
draw the fire by force towards the uncongenial element of the
air, it would be very evident that he could compel the smaller
mass more readily than the larger; for when two things are
simultaneously raised by one and the same power, the smaller body
must necessarily yield to the superior power with less reluctance
than the larger; and the larger body is called heavy and said to
tend downwards, and the smaller body is called light and said to
tend upwards. And we may detect ourselves who are upon the earth
doing precisely the same thing. For we often separate earthy
natures, and sometimes earth itself, and draw them into the
uncongenial element of air by force and contrary to nature, both
clinging to their kindred elements. But that which is smaller
yields to the impulse given by us towards the dissimilar element
more easily than the larger; and so we call the former light, and
the place towards which it is impelled we call above, and the
contrary state and place we call heavy and below respectively.
Now the relations of these must necessarily vary, because the
principal masses of the different elements hold opposite
positions; for that which is light, heavy, below or above in one
place will be found to be and become contrary and transverse and
every way diverse in relation to that which is light, heavy,
below or above in an opposite place. And about all of them this
has to be considered:—that the tendency of each towards its
kindred element makes the body which is moved heavy, and the
place towards which the motion tends below, but things which have
an opposite tendency we call by an opposite name. Such are the
causes which we assign to these phenomena. As to the smooth and
the rough, any one who sees them can explain the reason of them
to another. For roughness is hardness mingled with irregularity,
and smoothness is produced by the joint effect of uniformity and
density.
The most important of the affections which concern the whole body
remains to be considered—that is, the cause of pleasure and pain
in the perceptions of which I have been speaking, and in all
other things which are perceived by sense through the parts of
the body, and have both pains and pleasures attendant on them.
Let us imagine the causes of every affection, whether of sense or
not, to be of the following nature, remembering that we have
already distinguished between the nature which is easy and which
is hard to move; for this is the direction in which we must hunt
the prey which we mean to take. A body which is of a nature to be
easily moved, on receiving an impression however slight, spreads
abroad the motion in a circle, the parts communicating with each
other, until at last, reaching the principle of mind, they
announce the quality of the agent. But a body of the opposite
kind, being immobile, and not extending to the surrounding
region, merely receives the impression, and does not stir any of
the neighbouring parts; and since the parts do not distribute the
original impression to other parts, it has no effect of motion on
the whole animal, and therefore produces no effect on the
patient. This is true of the bones and hair and other more earthy
parts of the human body; whereas what was said above relates
mainly to sight and hearing, because they have in them the
greatest amount of fire and air. Now we must conceive of pleasure
and pain in this way. An impression produced in us contrary to
nature and violent, if sudden, is painful; and, again, the sudden
return to nature is pleasant; but a gentle and gradual return is
imperceptible and vice versa. On the other hand the impression of
sense which is most easily produced is most readily felt, but is
not accompanied by pleasure or pain; such, for example, are the
affections of the sight, which, as we said above, is a body
naturally uniting with our body in the day-time; for cuttings and
burnings and other affections which happen to the sight do not
give pain, nor is there pleasure when the sight returns to its
natural state; but the sensations are clearest and strongest
according to the manner in which the eye is affected by the
object, and itself strikes and touches it; there is no violence
either in the contraction or dilation of the eye. But bodies
formed of larger particles yield to the agent only with a
struggle; and then they impart their motions to the whole and
cause pleasure and pain—pain when alienated from their natural
conditions, and pleasure when restored to them. Things which
experience gradual withdrawings and emptyings of their nature,
and great and sudden replenishments, fail to perceive the
emptying, but are sensible of the replenishment; and so they
occasion no pain, but the greatest pleasure, to the mortal part
of the soul, as is manifest in the case of perfumes. But things
which are changed all of a sudden, and only gradually and with
difficulty return to their own nature, have effects in every way
opposite to the former, as is evident in the case of burnings and
cuttings of the body.
Thus have we discussed the general affections of the whole body,
and the names of the agents which produce them. And now I will
endeavour to speak of the affections of particular parts, and the
causes and agents of them, as far as I am able. In the first
place let us set forth what was omitted when we were speaking of
juices, concerning the affections peculiar to the tongue. These
too, like most of the other affections, appear to be caused by
certain contractions and dilations, but they have besides more of
roughness and smoothness than is found in other affections; for
whenever earthy particles enter into the small veins which are
the testing instruments of the tongue, reaching to the heart, and
fall upon the moist, delicate portions of flesh—when, as they are
dissolved, they contract and dry up the little veins, they are
astringent if they are rougher, but if not so rough, then only
harsh. Those of them which are of an abstergent nature, and purge
the whole surface of the tongue, if they do it in excess, and so
encroach as to consume some part of the flesh itself, like potash
and soda, are all termed bitter. But the particles which are
deficient in the alkaline quality, and which cleanse only
moderately, are called salt, and having no bitterness or
roughness, are regarded as rather agreeable than otherwise.
Bodies which share in and are made smooth by the heat of the
mouth, and which are inflamed, and again in turn inflame that
which heats them, and which are so light that they are carried
upwards to the sensations of the head, and cut all that comes in
their way, by reason of these qualities in them, are all termed
pungent. But when these same particles, refined by putrefaction,
enter into the narrow veins, and are duly proportioned to the
particles of earth and air which are there, they set them
whirling about one another, and while they are in a whirl cause
them to dash against and enter into one another, and so form
hollows surrounding the particles that enter—which watery vessels
of air (for a film of moisture, sometimes earthy, sometimes pure,
is spread around the air) are hollow spheres of water; and those
of them which are pure, are transparent, and are called bubbles,
while those composed of the earthy liquid, which is in a state of
general agitation and effervescence, are said to boil or
ferment—of all these affections the cause is termed acid. And
there is the opposite affection arising from an opposite cause,
when the mass of entering particles, immersed in the moisture of
the mouth, is congenial to the tongue, and smooths and oils over
the roughness, and relaxes the parts which are unnaturally
contracted, and contracts the parts which are relaxed, and
disposes them all according to their nature;—that sort of remedy
of violent affections is pleasant and agreeable to every man, and
has the name sweet. But enough of this.
The faculty of smell does not admit of differences of kind; for
all smells are of a half-formed nature, and no element is so
proportioned as to have any smell. The veins about the nose are
too narrow to admit earth and water, and too wide to detain fire
and air; and for this reason no one ever perceives the smell of
any of them; but smells always proceed from bodies that are damp,
or putrefying, or liquefying, or evaporating, and are perceptible
only in the intermediate state, when water is changing into air
and air into water; and all of them are either vapour or mist.
That which is passing out of air into water is mist, and that
which is passing from water into air is vapour; and hence all
smells are thinner than water and thicker than air. The proof of
this is, that when there is any obstruction to the respiration,
and a man draws in his breath by force, then no smell filters
through, but the air without the smell alone penetrates.
Wherefore the varieties of smell have no name, and they have not
many, or definite and simple kinds; but they are distinguished
only as painful and pleasant, the one sort irritating and
disturbing the whole cavity which is situated between the head
and the navel, the other having a soothing influence, and
restoring this same region to an agreeable and natural condition.
In considering the third kind of sense, hearing, we must speak of
the causes in which it originates. We may in general assume sound
to be a blow which passes through the ears, and is transmitted by
means of the air, the brain, and the blood, to the soul, and that
hearing is the vibration of this blow, which begins in the head
and ends in the region of the liver. The sound which moves
swiftly is acute, and the sound which moves slowly is grave, and
that which is regular is equable and smooth, and the reverse is
harsh. A great body of sound is loud, and a small body of sound
the reverse. Respecting the harmonies of sound I must hereafter
speak.
There is a fourth class of sensible things, having many intricate
varieties, which must now be distinguished. They are called by
the general name of colours, and are a flame which emanates from
every sort of body, and has particles corresponding to the sense
of sight. I have spoken already, in what has preceded, of the
causes which generate sight, and in this place it will be natural
and suitable to give a rational theory of colours.
Of the particles coming from other bodies which fall upon the
sight, some are smaller and some are larger, and some are equal
to the parts of the sight itself. Those which are equal are
imperceptible, and we call them transparent. The larger produce
contraction, the smaller dilation, in the sight, exercising a
power akin to that of hot and cold bodies on the flesh, or of
astringent bodies on the tongue, or of those heating bodies which
we termed pungent. White and black are similar effects of
contraction and dilation in another sphere, and for this reason
have a different appearance. Wherefore, we ought to term white
that which dilates the visual ray, and the opposite of this is
black. There is also a swifter motion of a different sort of fire
which strikes and dilates the ray of sight until it reaches the
eyes, forcing a way through their passages and melting them, and
eliciting from them a union of fire and water which we call
tears, being itself an opposite fire which comes to them from an
opposite direction—the inner fire flashes forth like lightning,
and the outer finds a way in and is extinguished in the moisture,
and all sorts of colours are generated by the mixture. This
affection is termed dazzling, and the object which produces it is
called bright and flashing. There is another sort of fire which
is intermediate, and which reaches and mingles with the moisture
of the eye without flashing; and in this, the fire mingling with
the ray of the moisture, produces a colour like blood, to which
we give the name of red. A bright hue mingled with red and white
gives the colour called auburn (Greek). The law of proportion,
however, according to which the several colours are formed, even
if a man knew he would be foolish in telling, for he could not
give any necessary reason, nor indeed any tolerable or probable
explanation of them. Again, red, when mingled with black and
white, becomes purple, but it becomes umber (Greek) when the
colours are burnt as well as mingled and the black is more
thoroughly mixed with them. Flame-colour (Greek) is produced by a
union of auburn and dun (Greek), and dun by an admixture of black
and white; pale yellow (Greek), by an admixture of white and
auburn. White and bright meeting, and falling upon a full black,
become dark blue (Greek), and when dark blue mingles with white,
a light blue (Greek) colour is formed, as flame-colour with black
makes leek green (Greek). There will be no difficulty in seeing
how and by what mixtures the colours derived from these are made
according to the rules of probability. He, however, who should
attempt to verify all this by experiment, would forget the
difference of the human and divine nature. For God only has the
knowledge and also the power which are able to combine many
things into one and again resolve the one into many. But no man
either is or ever will be able to accomplish either the one or
the other operation.
These are the elements, thus of necessity then subsisting, which
the creator of the fairest and best of created things associated
with himself, when he made the self-sufficing and most perfect
God, using the necessary causes as his ministers in the
accomplishment of his work, but himself contriving the good in
all his creations. Wherefore we may distinguish two sorts of
causes, the one divine and the other necessary, and may seek for
the divine in all things, as far as our nature admits, with a
view to the blessed life; but the necessary kind only for the
sake of the divine, considering that without them and when
isolated from them, these higher things for which we look cannot
be apprehended or received or in any way shared by us.
Seeing, then, that we have now prepared for our use the various
classes of causes which are the material out of which the
remainder of our discourse must be woven, just as wood is the
material of the carpenter, let us revert in a few words to the
point at which we began, and then endeavour to add on a suitable
ending to the beginning of our tale.
As I said at first, when all things were in disorder God created
in each thing in relation to itself, and in all things in
relation to each other, all the measures and harmonies which they
could possibly receive. For in those days nothing had any
proportion except by accident; nor did any of the things which
now have names deserve to be named at all—as, for example, fire,
water, and the rest of the elements. All these the creator first
set in order, and out of them he constructed the universe, which
was a single animal comprehending in itself all other animals,
mortal and immortal. Now of the divine, he himself was the
creator, but the creation of the mortal he committed to his
offspring. And they, imitating him, received from him the
immortal principle of the soul; and around this they proceeded to
fashion a mortal body, and made it to be the vehicle of the soul,
and constructed within the body a soul of another nature which
was mortal, subject to terrible and irresistible
affections,—first of all, pleasure, the greatest incitement to
evil; then, pain, which deters from good; also rashness and fear,
two foolish counsellors, anger hard to be appeased, and hope
easily led astray;—these they mingled with irrational sense and
with all-daring love according to necessary laws, and so framed
man. Wherefore, fearing to pollute the divine any more than was
absolutely unavoidable, they gave to the mortal nature a separate
habitation in another part of the body, placing the neck between
them to be the isthmus and boundary, which they constructed
between the head and breast, to keep them apart. And in the
breast, and in what is termed the thorax, they encased the mortal
soul; and as the one part of this was superior and the other
inferior they divided the cavity of the thorax into two parts, as
the women’s and men’s apartments are divided in houses, and
placed the midriff to be a wall of partition between them. That
part of the inferior soul which is endowed with courage and
passion and loves contention they settled nearer the head, midway
between the midriff and the neck, in order that it might be under
the rule of reason and might join with it in controlling and
restraining the desires when they are no longer willing of their
own accord to obey the word of command issuing from the citadel.
The heart, the knot of the veins and the fountain of the blood
which races through all the limbs, was set in the place of guard,
that when the might of passion was roused by reason making
proclamation of any wrong assailing them from without or being
perpetrated by the desires within, quickly the whole power of
feeling in the body, perceiving these commands and threats, might
obey and follow through every turn and alley, and thus allow the
principle of the best to have the command in all of them. But the
gods, foreknowing that the palpitation of the heart in the
expectation of danger and the swelling and excitement of passion
was caused by fire, formed and implanted as a supporter to the
heart the lung, which was, in the first place, soft and
bloodless, and also had within hollows like the pores of a
sponge, in order that by receiving the breath and the drink, it
might give coolness and the power of respiration and alleviate
the heat. Wherefore they cut the air-channels leading to the
lung, and placed the lung about the heart as a soft spring, that,
when passion was rife within, the heart, beating against a
yielding body, might be cooled and suffer less, and might thus
become more ready to join with passion in the service of reason.
The part of the soul which desires meats and drinks and the other
things of which it has need by reason of the bodily nature, they
placed between the midriff and the boundary of the navel,
contriving in all this region a sort of manger for the food of
the body; and there they bound it down like a wild animal which
was chained up with man, and must be nourished if man was to
exist. They appointed this lower creation his place here in order
that he might be always feeding at the manger, and have his
dwelling as far as might be from the council-chamber, making as
little noise and disturbance as possible, and permitting the best
part to advise quietly for the good of the whole. And knowing
that this lower principle in man would not comprehend reason, and
even if attaining to some degree of perception would never
naturally care for rational notions, but that it would be led
away by phantoms and visions night and day,—to be a remedy for
this, God combined with it the liver, and placed it in the house
of the lower nature, contriving that it should be solid and
smooth, and bright and sweet, and should also have a bitter
quality, in order that the power of thought, which proceeds from
the mind, might be reflected as in a mirror which receives
likenesses of objects and gives back images of them to the sight;
and so might strike terror into the desires, when, making use of
the bitter part of the liver, to which it is akin, it comes
threatening and invading, and diffusing this bitter element
swiftly through the whole liver produces colours like bile, and
contracting every part makes it wrinkled and rough; and twisting
out of its right place and contorting the lobe and closing and
shutting up the vessels and gates, causes pain and loathing. And
the converse happens when some gentle inspiration of the
understanding pictures images of an opposite character, and
allays the bile and bitterness by refusing to stir or touch the
nature opposed to itself, but by making use of the natural
sweetness of the liver, corrects all things and makes them to be
right and smooth and free, and renders the portion of the soul
which resides about the liver happy and joyful, enabling it to
pass the night in peace, and to practise divination in sleep,
inasmuch as it has no share in mind and reason. For the authors
of our being, remembering the command of their father when he
bade them create the human race as good as they could, that they
might correct our inferior parts and make them to attain a
measure of truth, placed in the liver the seat of divination. And
herein is a proof that God has given the art of divination not to
the wisdom, but to the foolishness of man. No man, when in his
wits, attains prophetic truth and inspiration; but when he
receives the inspired word, either his intelligence is enthralled
in sleep, or he is demented by some distemper or possession. And
he who would understand what he remembers to have been said,
whether in a dream or when he was awake, by the prophetic and
inspired nature, or would determine by reason the meaning of the
apparitions which he has seen, and what indications they afford
to this man or that, of past, present or future good and evil,
must first recover his wits. But, while he continues demented, he
cannot judge of the visions which he sees or the words which he
utters; the ancient saying is very true, that ‘only a man who has
his wits can act or judge about himself and his own affairs.’ And
for this reason it is customary to appoint interpreters to be
judges of the true inspiration. Some persons call them prophets;
they are quite unaware that they are only the expositors of dark
sayings and visions, and are not to be called prophets at all,
but only interpreters of prophecy.
Such is the nature of the liver, which is placed as we have
described in order that it may give prophetic intimations. During
the life of each individual these intimations are plainer, but
after his death the liver becomes blind, and delivers oracles too
obscure to be intelligible. The neighbouring organ (the spleen)
is situated on the left-hand side, and is constructed with a view
of keeping the liver bright and pure,—like a napkin, always ready
prepared and at hand to clean the mirror. And hence, when any
impurities arise in the region of the liver by reason of
disorders of the body, the loose nature of the spleen, which is
composed of a hollow and bloodless tissue, receives them all and
clears them away, and when filled with the unclean matter, swells
and festers, but, again, when the body is purged, settles down
into the same place as before, and is humbled.
Concerning the soul, as to which part is mortal and which divine,
and how and why they are separated, and where located, if God
acknowledges that we have spoken the truth, then, and then only,
can we be confident; still, we may venture to assert that what
has been said by us is probable, and will be rendered more
probable by investigation. Let us assume thus much.
The creation of the rest of the body follows next in order, and
this we may investigate in a similar manner. And it appears to be
very meet that the body should be framed on the following
principles:—
The authors of our race were aware that we should be intemperate
in eating and drinking, and take a good deal more than was
necessary or proper, by reason of gluttony. In order then that
disease might not quickly destroy us, and lest our mortal race
should perish without fulfilling its end—intending to provide
against this, the gods made what is called the lower belly, to be
a receptacle for the superfluous meat and drink, and formed the
convolution of the bowels, so that the food might be prevented
from passing quickly through and compelling the body to require
more food, thus producing insatiable gluttony, and making the
whole race an enemy to philosophy and music, and rebellious
against the divinest element within us.
The bones and flesh, and other similar parts of us, were made as
follows. The first principle of all of them was the generation of
the marrow. For the bonds of life which unite the soul with the
body are made fast there, and they are the root and foundation of
the human race. The marrow itself is created out of other
materials: God took such of the primary triangles as were
straight and smooth, and were adapted by their perfection to
produce fire and water, and air and earth—these, I say, he
separated from their kinds, and mingling them in due proportions
with one another, made the marrow out of them to be a universal
seed of the whole race of mankind; and in this seed he then
planted and enclosed the souls, and in the original distribution
gave to the marrow as many and various forms as the different
kinds of souls were hereafter to receive. That which, like a
field, was to receive the divine seed, he made round every way,
and called that portion of the marrow, brain, intending that,
when an animal was perfected, the vessel containing this
substance should be the head; but that which was intended to
contain the remaining and mortal part of the soul he distributed
into figures at once round and elongated, and he called them all
by the name ‘marrow’; and to these, as to anchors, fastening the
bonds of the whole soul, he proceeded to fashion around them the
entire framework of our body, constructing for the marrow, first
of all a complete covering of bone.
Bone was composed by him in the following manner. Having sifted
pure and smooth earth he kneaded it and wetted it with marrow,
and after that he put it into fire and then into water, and once
more into fire and again into water—in this way by frequent
transfers from one to the other he made it insoluble by either.
Out of this he fashioned, as in a lathe, a globe made of bone,
which he placed around the brain, and in this he left a narrow
opening; and around the marrow of the neck and back he formed
vertebrae which he placed under one another like pivots,
beginning at the head and extending through the whole of the
trunk. Thus wishing to preserve the entire seed, he enclosed it
in a stone-like casing, inserting joints, and using in the
formation of them the power of the other or diverse as an
intermediate nature, that they might have motion and flexure.
Then again, considering that the bone would be too brittle and
inflexible, and when heated and again cooled would soon mortify
and destroy the seed within—having this in view, he contrived the
sinews and the flesh, that so binding all the members together by
the sinews, which admitted of being stretched and relaxed about
the vertebrae, he might thus make the body capable of flexion and
extension, while the flesh would serve as a protection against
the summer heat and against the winter cold, and also against
falls, softly and easily yielding to external bodies, like
articles made of felt; and containing in itself a warm moisture
which in summer exudes and makes the surface damp, would impart a
natural coolness to the whole body; and again in winter by the
help of this internal warmth would form a very tolerable defence
against the frost which surrounds it and attacks it from without.
He who modelled us, considering these things, mixed earth with
fire and water and blended them; and making a ferment of acid and
salt, he mingled it with them and formed soft and succulent
flesh. As for the sinews, he made them of a mixture of bone and
unfermented flesh, attempered so as to be in a mean, and gave
them a yellow colour; wherefore the sinews have a firmer and more
glutinous nature than flesh, but a softer and moister nature than
the bones. With these God covered the bones and marrow, binding
them together by sinews, and then enshrouded them all in an upper
covering of flesh. The more living and sensitive of the bones he
enclosed in the thinnest film of flesh, and those which had the
least life within them in the thickest and most solid flesh. So
again on the joints of the bones, where reason indicated that no
more was required, he placed only a thin covering of flesh, that
it might not interfere with the flexion of our bodies and make
them unwieldy because difficult to move; and also that it might
not, by being crowded and pressed and matted together, destroy
sensation by reason of its hardness, and impair the memory and
dull the edge of intelligence. Wherefore also the thighs and the
shanks and the hips, and the bones of the arms and the forearms,
and other parts which have no joints, and the inner bones, which
on account of the rarity of the soul in the marrow are destitute
of reason—all these are abundantly provided with flesh; but such
as have mind in them are in general less fleshy, except where the
creator has made some part solely of flesh in order to give
sensation,—as, for example, the tongue. But commonly this is not
the case. For the nature which comes into being and grows up in
us by a law of necessity, does not admit of the combination of
solid bone and much flesh with acute perceptions. More than any
other part the framework of the head would have had them, if they
could have co-existed, and the human race, having a strong and
fleshy and sinewy head, would have had a life twice or many times
as long as it now has, and also more healthy and free from pain.
But our creators, considering whether they should make a
longer-lived race which was worse, or a shorter-lived race which
was better, came to the conclusion that every one ought to prefer
a shorter span of life, which was better, to a longer one, which
was worse; and therefore they covered the head with thin bone,
but not with flesh and sinews, since it had no joints; and thus
the head was added, having more wisdom and sensation than the
rest of the body, but also being in every man far weaker. For
these reasons and after this manner God placed the sinews at the
extremity of the head, in a circle round the neck, and glued them
together by the principle of likeness and fastened the
extremities of the jawbones to them below the face, and the other
sinews he dispersed throughout the body, fastening limb to limb.
The framers of us framed the mouth, as now arranged, having teeth
and tongue and lips, with a view to the necessary and the good
contriving the way in for necessary purposes, the way out for the
best purposes; for that is necessary which enters in and gives
food to the body; but the river of speech, which flows out of a
man and ministers to the intelligence, is the fairest and noblest
of all streams. Still the head could neither be left a bare frame
of bones, on account of the extremes of heat and cold in the
different seasons, nor yet be allowed to be wholly covered, and
so become dull and senseless by reason of an overgrowth of flesh.
The fleshy nature was not therefore wholly dried up, but a large
sort of peel was parted off and remained over, which is now
called the skin. This met and grew by the help of the cerebral
moisture, and became the circular envelopment of the head. And
the moisture, rising up under the sutures, watered and closed in
the skin upon the crown, forming a sort of knot. The diversity of
the sutures was caused by the power of the courses of the soul
and of the food, and the more these struggled against one another
the more numerous they became, and fewer if the struggle were
less violent. This skin the divine power pierced all round with
fire, and out of the punctures which were thus made the moisture
issued forth, and the liquid and heat which was pure came away,
and a mixed part which was composed of the same material as the
skin, and had a fineness equal to the punctures, was borne up by
its own impulse and extended far outside the head, but being too
slow to escape, was thrust back by the external air, and rolled
up underneath the skin, where it took root. Thus the hair sprang
up in the skin, being akin to it because it is like threads of
leather, but rendered harder and closer through the pressure of
the cold, by which each hair, while in process of separation from
the skin, is compressed and cooled. Wherefore the creator formed
the head hairy, making use of the causes which I have mentioned,
and reflecting also that instead of flesh the brain needed the
hair to be a light covering or guard, which would give shade in
summer and shelter in winter, and at the same time would not
impede our quickness of perception. From the combination of
sinew, skin, and bone, in the structure of the finger, there
arises a triple compound, which, when dried up, takes the form of
one hard skin partaking of all three natures, and was fabricated
by these second causes, but designed by mind which is the
principal cause with an eye to the future. For our creators well
knew that women and other animals would some day be framed out of
men, and they further knew that many animals would require the
use of nails for many purposes; wherefore they fashioned in men
at their first creation the rudiments of nails. For this purpose
and for these reasons they caused skin, hair, and nails to grow
at the extremities of the limbs.
And now that all the parts and members of the mortal animal had
come together, since its life of necessity consisted of fire and
breath, and it therefore wasted away by dissolution and
depletion, the gods contrived the following remedy: They mingled
a nature akin to that of man with other forms and perceptions,
and thus created another kind of animal. These are the trees and
plants and seeds which have been improved by cultivation and are
now domesticated among us; anciently there were only the wild
kinds, which are older than the cultivated. For everything that
partakes of life may be truly called a living being, and the
animal of which we are now speaking partakes of the third kind of
soul, which is said to be seated between the midriff and the
navel, having no part in opinion or reason or mind, but only in
feelings of pleasure and pain and the desires which accompany
them. For this nature is always in a passive state, revolving in
and about itself, repelling the motion from without and using its
own, and accordingly is not endowed by nature with the power of
observing or reflecting on its own concerns. Wherefore it lives
and does not differ from a living being, but is fixed and rooted
in the same spot, having no power of self-motion.
Now after the superior powers had created all these natures to be
food for us who are of the inferior nature, they cut various
channels through the body as through a garden, that it might be
watered as from a running stream. In the first place, they cut
two hidden channels or veins down the back where the skin and the
flesh join, which answered severally to the right and left side
of the body. These they let down along the backbone, so as to
have the marrow of generation between them, where it was most
likely to flourish, and in order that the stream coming down from
above might flow freely to the other parts, and equalize the
irrigation. In the next place, they divided the veins about the
head, and interlacing them, they sent them in opposite
directions; those coming from the right side they sent to the
left of the body, and those from the left they diverted towards
the right, so that they and the skin might together form a bond
which should fasten the head to the body, since the crown of the
head was not encircled by sinews; and also in order that the
sensations from both sides might be distributed over the whole
body. And next, they ordered the water-courses of the body in a
manner which I will describe, and which will be more easily
understood if we begin by admitting that all things which have
lesser parts retain the greater, but the greater cannot retain
the lesser. Now of all natures fire has the smallest parts, and
therefore penetrates through earth and water and air and their
compounds, nor can anything hold it. And a similar principle
applies to the human belly; for when meats and drinks enter it,
it holds them, but it cannot hold air and fire, because the
particles of which they consist are smaller than its own
structure.
These elements, therefore, God employed for the sake of
distributing moisture from the belly into the veins, weaving
together a network of fire and air like a weel, having at the
entrance two lesser weels; further he constructed one of these
with two openings, and from the lesser weels he extended cords
reaching all round to the extremities of the network. All the
interior of the net he made of fire, but the lesser weels and
their cavity, of air. The network he took and spread over the
newly-formed animal in the following manner:—He let the lesser
weels pass into the mouth; there were two of them, and one he let
down by the air-pipes into the lungs, the other by the side of
the air-pipes into the belly. The former he divided into two
branches, both of which he made to meet at the channels of the
nose, so that when the way through the mouth did not act, the
streams of the mouth as well were replenished through the nose.
With the other cavity (i.e. of the greater weel) he enveloped the
hollow parts of the body, and at one time he made all this to
flow into the lesser weels, quite gently, for they are composed
of air, and at another time he caused the lesser weels to flow
back again; and the net he made to find a way in and out through
the pores of the body, and the rays of fire which are bound fast
within followed the passage of the air either way, never at any
time ceasing so long as the mortal being holds together. This
process, as we affirm, the name-giver named inspiration and
expiration. And all this movement, active as well as passive,
takes place in order that the body, being watered and cooled, may
receive nourishment and life; for when the respiration is going
in and out, and the fire, which is fast bound within, follows it,
and ever and anon moving to and fro, enters through the belly and
reaches the meat and drink, it dissolves them, and dividing them
into small portions and guiding them through the passages where
it goes, pumps them as from a fountain into the channels of the
veins, and makes the stream of the veins flow through the body as
through a conduit.
Let us once more consider the phenomena of respiration, and
enquire into the causes which have made it what it is. They are
as follows:—Seeing that there is no such thing as a vacuum into
which any of those things which are moved can enter, and the
breath is carried from us into the external air, the next point
is, as will be clear to every one, that it does not go into a
vacant space, but pushes its neighbour out of its place, and that
which is thrust out in turn drives out its neighbour; and in this
way everything of necessity at last comes round to that place
from whence the breath came forth, and enters in there, and
following the breath, fills up the vacant space; and this goes on
like the rotation of a wheel, because there can be no such thing
as a vacuum. Wherefore also the breast and the lungs, when they
emit the breath, are replenished by the air which surrounds the
body and which enters in through the pores of the flesh and is
driven round in a circle; and again, the air which is sent away
and passes out through the body forces the breath inwards through
the passage of the mouth and the nostrils. Now the origin of this
movement may be supposed to be as follows. In the interior of
every animal the hottest part is that which is around the blood
and veins; it is in a manner an internal fountain of fire, which
we compare to the network of a creel, being woven all of fire and
extended through the centre of the body, while the outer parts
are composed of air. Now we must admit that heat naturally
proceeds outward to its own place and to its kindred element; and
as there are two exits for the heat, the one out through the
body, and the other through the mouth and nostrils, when it moves
towards the one, it drives round the air at the other, and that
which is driven round falls into the fire and becomes warm, and
that which goes forth is cooled. But when the heat changes its
place, and the particles at the other exit grow warmer, the
hotter air inclining in that direction and carried towards its
native element, fire, pushes round the air at the other; and this
being affected in the same way and communicating the same
impulse, a circular motion swaying to and fro is produced by the
double process, which we call inspiration and expiration.
The phenomena of medical cupping-glasses and of the swallowing of
drink and of the projection of bodies, whether discharged in the
air or bowled along the ground, are to be investigated on a
similar principle; and swift and slow sounds, which appear to be
high and low, and are sometimes discordant on account of their
inequality, and then again harmonical on account of the equality
of the motion which they excite in us. For when the motions of
the antecedent swifter sounds begin to pause and the two are
equalized, the slower sounds overtake the swifter and then propel
them. When they overtake them they do not intrude a new and
discordant motion, but introduce the beginnings of a slower,
which answers to the swifter as it dies away, thus producing a
single mixed expression out of high and low, whence arises a
pleasure which even the unwise feel, and which to the wise
becomes a higher sort of delight, being an imitation of divine
harmony in mortal motions. Moreover, as to the flowing of water,
the fall of the thunderbolt, and the marvels that are observed
about the attraction of amber and the Heraclean stones,—in none
of these cases is there any attraction; but he who investigates
rightly, will find that such wonderful phenomena are attributable
to the combination of certain conditions—the non-existence of a
vacuum, the fact that objects push one another round, and that
they change places, passing severally into their proper positions
as they are divided or combined.
Such as we have seen, is the nature and such are the causes of
respiration,—the subject in which this discussion originated. For
the fire cuts the food and following the breath surges up within,
fire and breath rising together and filling the veins by drawing
up out of the belly and pouring into them the cut portions of the
food; and so the streams of food are kept flowing through the
whole body in all animals. And fresh cuttings from kindred
substances, whether the fruits of the earth or herb of the field,
which God planted to be our daily food, acquire all sorts of
colours by their inter-mixture; but red is the most pervading of
them, being created by the cutting action of fire and by the
impression which it makes on a moist substance; and hence the
liquid which circulates in the body has a colour such as we have
described. The liquid itself we call blood, which nourishes the
flesh and the whole body, whence all parts are watered and empty
places filled.
Now the process of repletion and evacuation is effected after the
manner of the universal motion by which all kindred substances
are drawn towards one another. For the external elements which
surround us are always causing us to consume away, and
distributing and sending off like to like; the particles of
blood, too, which are divided and contained within the frame of
the animal as in a sort of heaven, are compelled to imitate the
motion of the universe. Each, therefore, of the divided parts
within us, being carried to its kindred nature, replenishes the
void. When more is taken away than flows in, then we decay, and
when less, we grow and increase.
The frame of the entire creature when young has the triangles of
each kind new, and may be compared to the keel of a vessel which
is just off the stocks; they are locked firmly together and yet
the whole mass is soft and delicate, being freshly formed of
marrow and nurtured on milk. Now when the triangles out of which
meats and drinks are composed come in from without, and are
comprehended in the body, being older and weaker than the
triangles already there, the frame of the body gets the better of
them and its newer triangles cut them up, and so the animal grows
great, being nourished by a multitude of similar particles. But
when the roots of the triangles are loosened by having undergone
many conflicts with many things in the course of time, they are
no longer able to cut or assimilate the food which enters, but
are themselves easily divided by the bodies which come in from
without. In this way every animal is overcome and decays, and
this affection is called old age. And at last, when the bonds by
which the triangles of the marrow are united no longer hold, and
are parted by the strain of existence, they in turn loosen the
bonds of the soul, and she, obtaining a natural release, flies
away with joy. For that which takes place according to nature is
pleasant, but that which is contrary to nature is painful. And
thus death, if caused by disease or produced by wounds, is
painful and violent; but that sort of death which comes with old
age and fulfils the debt of nature is the easiest of deaths, and
is accompanied with pleasure rather than with pain.
Now every one can see whence diseases arise. There are four
natures out of which the body is compacted, earth and fire and
water and air, and the unnatural excess or defect of these, or
the change of any of them from its own natural place into
another, or—since there are more kinds than one of fire and of
the other elements—the assumption by any of these of a wrong
kind, or any similar irregularity, produces disorders and
diseases; for when any of them is produced or changed in a manner
contrary to nature, the parts which were previously cool grow
warm, and those which were dry become moist, and the light become
heavy, and the heavy light; all sorts of changes occur. For, as
we affirm, a thing can only remain the same with itself, whole
and sound, when the same is added to it, or subtracted from it,
in the same respect and in the same manner and in due proportion;
and whatever comes or goes away in violation of these laws causes
all manner of changes and infinite diseases and corruptions. Now
there is a second class of structures which are also natural, and
this affords a second opportunity of observing diseases to him
who would understand them. For whereas marrow and bone and flesh
and sinews are composed of the four elements, and the blood,
though after another manner, is likewise formed out of them, most
diseases originate in the way which I have described; but the
worst of all owe their severity to the fact that the generation
of these substances proceeds in a wrong order; they are then
destroyed. For the natural order is that the flesh and sinews
should be made of blood, the sinews out of the fibres to which
they are akin, and the flesh out of the clots which are formed
when the fibres are separated. And the glutinous and rich matter
which comes away from the sinews and the flesh, not only glues
the flesh to the bones, but nourishes and imparts growth to the
bone which surrounds the marrow; and by reason of the solidity of
the bones, that which filters through consists of the purest and
smoothest and oiliest sort of triangles, dropping like dew from
the bones and watering the marrow. Now when each process takes
place in this order, health commonly results; when in the
opposite order, disease. For when the flesh becomes decomposed
and sends back the wasting substance into the veins, then an
over-supply of blood of diverse kinds, mingling with air in the
veins, having variegated colours and bitter properties, as well
as acid and saline qualities, contains all sorts of bile and
serum and phlegm. For all things go the wrong way, and having
become corrupted, first they taint the blood itself, and then
ceasing to give nourishment to the body they are carried along
the veins in all directions, no longer preserving the order of
their natural courses, but at war with themselves, because they
receive no good from one another, and are hostile to the abiding
constitution of the body, which they corrupt and dissolve. The
oldest part of the flesh which is corrupted, being hard to
decompose, from long burning grows black, and from being
everywhere corroded becomes bitter, and is injurious to every
part of the body which is still uncorrupted. Sometimes, when the
bitter element is refined away, the black part assumes an acidity
which takes the place of the bitterness; at other times the
bitterness being tinged with blood has a redder colour; and this,
when mixed with black, takes the hue of grass; and again, an
auburn colour mingles with the bitter matter when new flesh is
decomposed by the fire which surrounds the internal flame;—to all
which symptoms some physician perhaps, or rather some
philosopher, who had the power of seeing in many dissimilar
things one nature deserving of a name, has assigned the common
name of bile. But the other kinds of bile are variously
distinguished by their colours. As for serum, that sort which is
the watery part of blood is innocent, but that which is a
secretion of black and acid bile is malignant when mingled by the
power of heat with any salt substance, and is then called acid
phlegm. Again, the substance which is formed by the liquefaction
of new and tender flesh when air is present, if inflated and
encased in liquid so as to form bubbles, which separately are
invisible owing to their small size, but when collected are of a
bulk which is visible, and have a white colour arising out of the
generation of foam—all this decomposition of tender flesh when
intermingled with air is termed by us white phlegm. And the whey
or sediment of newly-formed phlegm is sweat and tears, and
includes the various daily discharges by which the body is
purified. Now all these become causes of disease when the blood
is not replenished in a natural manner by food and drink but
gains bulk from opposite sources in violation of the laws of
nature. When the several parts of the flesh are separated by
disease, if the foundation remains, the power of the disorder is
only half as great, and there is still a prospect of an easy
recovery; but when that which binds the flesh to the bones is
diseased, and no longer being separated from the muscles and
sinews, ceases to give nourishment to the bone and to unite flesh
and bone, and from being oily and smooth and glutinous becomes
rough and salt and dry, owing to bad regimen, then all the
substance thus corrupted crumbles away under the flesh and the
sinews, and separates from the bone, and the fleshy parts fall
away from their foundation and leave the sinews bare and full of
brine, and the flesh again gets into the circulation of the blood
and makes the previously-mentioned disorders still greater. And
if these bodily affections be severe, still worse are the prior
disorders; as when the bone itself, by reason of the density of
the flesh, does not obtain sufficient air, but becomes mouldy and
hot and gangrened and receives no nutriment, and the natural
process is inverted, and the bone crumbling passes into the food,
and the food into the flesh, and the flesh again falling into the
blood makes all maladies that may occur more virulent than those
already mentioned. But the worst case of all is when the marrow
is diseased, either from excess or defect; and this is the cause
of the very greatest and most fatal disorders, in which the whole
course of the body is reversed.
There is a third class of diseases which may be conceived of as
arising in three ways; for they are produced sometimes by wind,
and sometimes by phlegm, and sometimes by bile. When the lung,
which is the dispenser of the air to the body, is obstructed by
rheums and its passages are not free, some of them not acting,
while through others too much air enters, then the parts which
are unrefreshed by air corrode, while in other parts the excess
of air forcing its way through the veins distorts them and
decomposing the body is enclosed in the midst of it and occupies
the midriff; thus numberless painful diseases are produced,
accompanied by copious sweats. And oftentimes when the flesh is
dissolved in the body, wind, generated within and unable to
escape, is the source of quite as much pain as the air coming in
from without; but the greatest pain is felt when the wind gets
about the sinews and the veins of the shoulders, and swells them
up, and so twists back the great tendons and the sinews which are
connected with them. These disorders are called tetanus and
opisthotonus, by reason of the tension which accompanies them.
The cure of them is difficult; relief is in most cases given by
fever supervening. The white phlegm, though dangerous when
detained within by reason of the air-bubbles, yet if it can
communicate with the outside air, is less severe, and only
discolours the body, generating leprous eruptions and similar
diseases. When it is mingled with black bile and dispersed about
the courses of the head, which are the divinest part of us, the
attack if coming on in sleep, is not so severe; but when
assailing those who are awake it is hard to be got rid of, and
being an affection of a sacred part, is most justly called
sacred. An acid and salt phlegm, again, is the source of all
those diseases which take the form of catarrh, but they have many
names because the places into which they flow are manifold.
Inflammations of the body come from burnings and inflamings, and
all of them originate in bile. When bile finds a means of
discharge, it boils up and sends forth all sorts of tumours; but
when imprisoned within, it generates many inflammatory diseases,
above all when mingled with pure blood; since it then displaces
the fibres which are scattered about in the blood and are
designed to maintain the balance of rare and dense, in order that
the blood may not be so liquefied by heat as to exude from the
pores of the body, nor again become too dense and thus find a
difficulty in circulating through the veins. The fibres are so
constituted as to maintain this balance; and if any one brings
them all together when the blood is dead and in process of
cooling, then the blood which remains becomes fluid, but if they
are left alone, they soon congeal by reason of the surrounding
cold. The fibres having this power over the blood, bile, which is
only stale blood, and which from being flesh is dissolved again
into blood, at the first influx coming in little by little, hot
and liquid, is congealed by the power of the fibres; and so
congealing and made to cool, it produces internal cold and
shuddering. When it enters with more of a flood and overcomes the
fibres by its heat, and boiling up throws them into disorder, if
it have power enough to maintain its supremacy, it penetrates the
marrow and burns up what may be termed the cables of the soul,
and sets her free; but when there is not so much of it, and the
body though wasted still holds out, the bile is itself mastered,
and is either utterly banished, or is thrust through the veins
into the lower or upper belly, and is driven out of the body like
an exile from a state in which there has been civil war; whence
arise diarrhoeas and dysenteries, and all such disorders. When
the constitution is disordered by excess of fire, continuous heat
and fever are the result; when excess of air is the cause, then
the fever is quotidian; when of water, which is a more sluggish
element than either fire or air, then the fever is a tertian;
when of earth, which is the most sluggish of the four, and is
only purged away in a four-fold period, the result is a quartan
fever, which can with difficulty be shaken off.
Such is the manner in which diseases of the body arise; the
disorders of the soul, which depend upon the body, originate as
follows. We must acknowledge disease of the mind to be a want of
intelligence; and of this there are two kinds; to wit, madness
and ignorance. In whatever state a man experiences either of
them, that state may be called disease; and excessive pains and
pleasures are justly to be regarded as the greatest diseases to
which the soul is liable. For a man who is in great joy or in
great pain, in his unreasonable eagerness to attain the one and
to avoid the other, is not able to see or to hear anything
rightly; but he is mad, and is at the time utterly incapable of
any participation in reason. He who has the seed about the spinal
marrow too plentiful and overflowing, like a tree overladen with
fruit, has many throes, and also obtains many pleasures in his
desires and their offspring, and is for the most part of his life
deranged, because his pleasures and pains are so very great; his
soul is rendered foolish and disordered by his body; yet he is
regarded not as one diseased, but as one who is voluntarily bad,
which is a mistake. The truth is that the intemperance of love is
a disease of the soul due chiefly to the moisture and fluidity
which is produced in one of the elements by the loose consistency
of the bones. And in general, all that which is termed the
incontinence of pleasure and is deemed a reproach under the idea
that the wicked voluntarily do wrong is not justly a matter for
reproach. For no man is voluntarily bad; but the bad become bad
by reason of an ill disposition of the body and bad education,
things which are hateful to every man and happen to him against
his will. And in the case of pain too in like manner the soul
suffers much evil from the body. For where the acid and briny
phlegm and other bitter and bilious humours wander about in the
body, and find no exit or escape, but are pent up within and
mingle their own vapours with the motions of the soul, and are
blended with them, they produce all sorts of diseases, more or
fewer, and in every degree of intensity; and being carried to the
three places of the soul, whichever they may severally assail,
they create infinite varieties of ill-temper and melancholy, of
rashness and cowardice, and also of forgetfulness and stupidity.
Further, when to this evil constitution of body evil forms of
government are added and evil discourses are uttered in private
as well as in public, and no sort of instruction is given in
youth to cure these evils, then all of us who are bad become bad
from two causes which are entirely beyond our control. In such
cases the planters are to blame rather than the plants, the
educators rather than the educated. But however that may be, we
should endeavour as far as we can by education, and studies, and
learning, to avoid vice and attain virtue; this, however, is part
of another subject.
There is a corresponding enquiry concerning the mode of treatment
by which the mind and the body are to be preserved, about which
it is meet and right that I should say a word in turn; for it is
more our duty to speak of the good than of the evil. Everything
that is good is fair, and the fair is not without proportion, and
the animal which is to be fair must have due proportion. Now we
perceive lesser symmetries or proportions and reason about them,
but of the highest and greatest we take no heed; for there is no
proportion or disproportion more productive of health and
disease, and virtue and vice, than that between soul and body.
This however we do not perceive, nor do we reflect that when a
weak or small frame is the vehicle of a great and mighty soul, or
conversely, when a little soul is encased in a large body, then
the whole animal is not fair, for it lacks the most important of
all symmetries; but the due proportion of mind and body is the
fairest and loveliest of all sights to him who has the seeing
eye. Just as a body which has a leg too long, or which is
unsymmetrical in some other respect, is an unpleasant sight, and
also, when doing its share of work, is much distressed and makes
convulsive efforts, and often stumbles through awkwardness, and
is the cause of infinite evil to its own self—in like manner we
should conceive of the double nature which we call the living
being; and when in this compound there is an impassioned soul
more powerful than the body, that soul, I say, convulses and
fills with disorders the whole inner nature of man; and when
eager in the pursuit of some sort of learning or study, causes
wasting; or again, when teaching or disputing in private or in
public, and strifes and controversies arise, inflames and
dissolves the composite frame of man and introduces rheums; and
the nature of this phenomenon is not understood by most
professors of medicine, who ascribe it to the opposite of the
real cause. And once more, when a body large and too strong for
the soul is united to a small and weak intelligence, then
inasmuch as there are two desires natural to man,—one of food for
the sake of the body, and one of wisdom for the sake of the
diviner part of us—then, I say, the motions of the stronger,
getting the better and increasing their own power, but making the
soul dull, and stupid, and forgetful, engender ignorance, which
is the greatest of diseases. There is one protection against both
kinds of disproportion:—that we should not move the body without
the soul or the soul without the body, and thus they will be on
their guard against each other, and be healthy and well balanced.
And therefore the mathematician or any one else whose thoughts
are much absorbed in some intellectual pursuit, must allow his
body also to have due exercise, and practise gymnastic; and he
who is careful to fashion the body, should in turn impart to the
soul its proper motions, and should cultivate music and all
philosophy, if he would deserve to be called truly fair and truly
good. And the separate parts should be treated in the same
manner, in imitation of the pattern of the universe; for as the
body is heated and also cooled within by the elements which enter
into it, and is again dried up and moistened by external things,
and experiences these and the like affections from both kinds of
motions, the result is that the body if given up to motion when
in a state of quiescence is overmastered and perishes; but if any
one, in imitation of that which we call the foster-mother and
nurse of the universe, will not allow the body ever to be
inactive, but is always producing motions and agitations through
its whole extent, which form the natural defence against other
motions both internal and external, and by moderate exercise
reduces to order according to their affinities the particles and
affections which are wandering about the body, as we have already
said when speaking of the universe, he will not allow enemy
placed by the side of enemy to stir up wars and disorders in the
body, but he will place friend by the side of friend, so as to
create health. Now of all motions that is the best which is
produced in a thing by itself, for it is most akin to the motion
of thought and of the universe; but that motion which is caused
by others is not so good, and worst of all is that which moves
the body, when at rest, in parts only and by some external
agency. Wherefore of all modes of purifying and re-uniting the
body the best is gymnastic; the next best is a surging motion, as
in sailing or any other mode of conveyance which is not
fatiguing; the third sort of motion may be of use in a case of
extreme necessity, but in any other will be adopted by no man of
sense: I mean the purgative treatment of physicians; for diseases
unless they are very dangerous should not be irritated by
medicines, since every form of disease is in a manner akin to the
living being, whose complex frame has an appointed term of life.
For not the whole race only, but each individual—barring
inevitable accidents—comes into the world having a fixed span,
and the triangles in us are originally framed with power to last
for a certain time, beyond which no man can prolong his life. And
this holds also of the constitution of diseases; if any one
regardless of the appointed time tries to subdue them by
medicine, he only aggravates and multiplies them. Wherefore we
ought always to manage them by regimen, as far as a man can spare
the time, and not provoke a disagreeable enemy by medicines.
Enough of the composite animal, and of the body which is a part
of him, and of the manner in which a man may train and be trained
by himself so as to live most according to reason: and we must
above and before all provide that the element which is to train
him shall be the fairest and best adapted to that purpose. A
minute discussion of this subject would be a serious task; but
if, as before, I am to give only an outline, the subject may not
unfitly be summed up as follows.
I have often remarked that there are three kinds of soul located
within us, having each of them motions, and I must now repeat in
the fewest words possible, that one part, if remaining inactive
and ceasing from its natural motion, must necessarily become very
weak, but that which is trained and exercised, very strong.
Wherefore we should take care that the movements of the different
parts of the soul should be in due proportion.
And we should consider that God gave the sovereign part of the
human soul to be the divinity of each one, being that part which,
as we say, dwells at the top of the body, and inasmuch as we are
a plant not of an earthly but of a heavenly growth, raises us
from earth to our kindred who are in heaven. And in this we say
truly; for the divine power suspended the head and root of us
from that place where the generation of the soul first began, and
thus made the whole body upright. When a man is always occupied
with the cravings of desire and ambition, and is eagerly striving
to satisfy them, all his thoughts must be mortal, and, as far as
it is possible altogether to become such, he must be mortal every
whit, because he has cherished his mortal part. But he who has
been earnest in the love of knowledge and of true wisdom, and has
exercised his intellect more than any other part of him, must
have thoughts immortal and divine, if he attain truth, and in so
far as human nature is capable of sharing in immortality, he must
altogether be immortal; and since he is ever cherishing the
divine power, and has the divinity within him in perfect order,
he will be perfectly happy. Now there is only one way of taking
care of things, and this is to give to each the food and motion
which are natural to it. And the motions which are naturally akin
to the divine principle within us are the thoughts and
revolutions of the universe. These each man should follow, and
correct the courses of the head which were corrupted at our
birth, and by learning the harmonies and revolutions of the
universe, should assimilate the thinking being to the thought,
renewing his original nature, and having assimilated them should
attain to that perfect life which the gods have set before
mankind, both for the present and the future.
Thus our original design of discoursing about the universe down
to the creation of man is nearly completed. A brief mention may
be made of the generation of other animals, so far as the subject
admits of brevity; in this manner our argument will best attain a
due proportion. On the subject of animals, then, the following
remarks may be offered. Of the men who came into the world, those
who were cowards or led unrighteous lives may with reason be
supposed to have changed into the nature of women in the second
generation. And this was the reason why at that time the gods
created in us the desire of sexual intercourse, contriving in man
one animated substance, and in woman another, which they formed
respectively in the following manner. The outlet for drink by
which liquids pass through the lung under the kidneys and into
the bladder, which receives and then by the pressure of the air
emits them, was so fashioned by them as to penetrate also into
the body of the marrow, which passes from the head along the neck
and through the back, and which in the preceding discourse we
have named the seed. And the seed having life, and becoming
endowed with respiration, produces in that part in which it
respires a lively desire of emission, and thus creates in us the
love of procreation. Wherefore also in men the organ of
generation becoming rebellious and masterful, like an animal
disobedient to reason, and maddened with the sting of lust, seeks
to gain absolute sway; and the same is the case with the
so-called womb or matrix of women; the animal within them is
desirous of procreating children, and when remaining unfruitful
long beyond its proper time, gets discontented and angry, and
wandering in every direction through the body, closes up the
passages of the breath, and, by obstructing respiration, drives
them to extremity, causing all varieties of disease, until at
length the desire and love of the man and the woman, bringing
them together and as it were plucking the fruit from the tree,
sow in the womb, as in a field, animals unseen by reason of their
smallness and without form; these again are separated and matured
within; they are then finally brought out into the light, and
thus the generation of animals is completed.
Thus were created women and the female sex in general. But the
race of birds was created out of innocent light-minded men, who,
although their minds were directed toward heaven, imagined, in
their simplicity, that the clearest demonstration of the things
above was to be obtained by sight; these were remodelled and
transformed into birds, and they grew feathers instead of hair.
The race of wild pedestrian animals, again, came from those who
had no philosophy in any of their thoughts, and never considered
at all about the nature of the heavens, because they had ceased
to use the courses of the head, but followed the guidance of
those parts of the soul which are in the breast. In consequence
of these habits of theirs they had their front-legs and their
heads resting upon the earth to which they were drawn by natural
affinity; and the crowns of their heads were elongated and of all
sorts of shapes, into which the courses of the soul were crushed
by reason of disuse. And this was the reason why they were
created quadrupeds and polypods: God gave the more senseless of
them the more support that they might be more attracted to the
earth. And the most foolish of them, who trail their bodies
entirely upon the ground and have no longer any need of feet, he
made without feet to crawl upon the earth. The fourth class were
the inhabitants of the water: these were made out of the most
entirely senseless and ignorant of all, whom the transformers did
not think any longer worthy of pure respiration, because they
possessed a soul which was made impure by all sorts of
transgression; and instead of the subtle and pure medium of air,
they gave them the deep and muddy sea to be their element of
respiration; and hence arose the race of fishes and oysters, and
other aquatic animals, which have received the most remote
habitations as a punishment of their outlandish ignorance. These
are the laws by which animals pass into one another, now, as
ever, changing as they lose or gain wisdom and folly.
We may now say that our discourse about the nature of the
universe has an end. The world has received animals, mortal and
immortal, and is fulfilled with them, and has become a visible
animal containing the visible—the sensible God who is the image
of the intellectual, the greatest, best, fairest, most
perfect—the one only-begotten heaven.