City of God, Book 4

Having begun to speak of the city of God, I have thought it necessary first of all to reply to its enemies, who, eagerly pursuing earthly joys and gaping after transitory things, blame all the sorrow they suffer in them — which comes more from God’s compassion in warning than from His severity in punishing — on the Christian religion, which is the one saving and true religion. And since there is also an unlearned rabble among them, they are stirred up as by the authority of the learned to hate us more bitterly, thinking in their inexperience that the unusual things that have happened in their own day never used to happen in times gone by; and since this opinion of theirs is confirmed even by those who know that it is false, and yet hide what they know so that they may seem to have just cause for murmuring against us, it was necessary to demonstrate, from books in which their authors recorded and published the history of bygone times so that it might be known, that it is far otherwise than they think; and at the same time to teach that the false gods, whom they openly worshipped, or still worship in secret, are most unclean spirits, and most malignant and deceitful demons, even to such a degree that they take delight in crimes which, whether real or only fictitious, are yet their own, which they have willed to have celebrated in their honor at their own festivals; so that human infirmity cannot be called back from committing damnable deeds, as long as an authority that seems even divine is furnished for imitating them. We have proved these things, not from our own conjectures, but partly from recent memory, because we ourselves have seen such things celebrated, and to such deities, partly from the writings of those who have left these things on record to posterity, not as if in reproach but as in honor of their own gods. Thus Varro, a most learned man among them, and of the weightiest authority, when he made separate books on human things and divine things, distributing some among the human, others among the divine, according to the special dignity of each, placed the scenic plays not among human things at all, but among divine things; though, certainly, if only there were good and honorable men in the state, the scenic plays ought not to be allowed even among human things. And he did this not on his own authority, but because, being born and educated at Rome, he found them among the divine things. Now as we briefly stated at the end of the first book what we intended to discuss afterward, and as we have disposed of a part of this in the next two books, we see what our readers will expect us now to take up.

We had promised, then, that we would say something against those who attribute the calamities of the Roman republic to our religion, and that we would recount the evils, as many and great as we could remember or might deem sufficient, which that city, or the provinces belonging to its empire, had suffered before their sacrifices were prohibited, all of which would beyond doubt have been attributed to us, if our religion had either already shone on them, or had thus prohibited their sacrilegious rites. We have, we think, fully dealt with these things in the second and third books, treating in the second of evils in morals, which alone or chiefly are to be counted as evils; and in the third, of those which only fools dread to undergo — namely, those of the body or of outward things — which for the most part the good also suffer. But they take the evils by which they themselves become evil, I do not say patiently, but with pleasure. And how few evils I have related concerning that one city and its empire! Not even all down to the time of Cæsar Augustus. What if I had chosen to recount and enlarge on those evils, not those that men have inflicted on each other, such as the devastations and destructions of war, but those that happen in earthly things from the elements of the world itself? Apuleius speaks briefly of such evils in one passage of that book which he wrote, De Mundo, saying that all earthly things are subject to change, overthrow, and destruction. For, to use his own words, by excessive earthquakes the ground has burst apart, and cities with their inhabitants have been utterly destroyed: by sudden rains whole regions have been washed away; those also which formerly had been continents, have been made islands by strange and newly arrived waves, and others, by the subsiding of the sea, have been made passable by the foot of man: by winds and storms cities have been overthrown; fires have flashed from the clouds, by which regions in the East have been burned up and have perished; and on the western coasts the like destructions have been caused by the bursting out of waters and floods. So, formerly, from the lofty craters of Etna, rivers of fire kindled by God have flowed like a torrent down the slopes. If I had wished to collect these and similar instances from history wherever I could, where would I have finished with what happened even in those times before the name of Christ had put down those of their idols, so vain and harmful to true salvation? I also promised that I would point out which of their customs, and for what reason, the true God, in whose power all kingdoms are, had deigned to favor so as to enlarge their empire; and how those whom they think gods could not have profited them at all, but rather harmed them greatly by deceiving and beguiling them; so that it seems to me I must now speak of these things, and especially of the increase of the Roman empire. For I have already said not a little, especially in the second book, about the many evils introduced into their morals by the harmful deceits of the demons whom they worshipped as gods. But throughout all the three books already completed, where it appeared suitable, we have set forth how much help God, through the name of Christ, to whom the barbarians beyond the custom of war paid so much honor, has bestowed on the good and bad, just as it is written, “Who makes His sun to rise on the good and the evil, and gives rain to the just and the unjust.” Matthew 24:45

Now, therefore, let us see how it is that they dare to ascribe the very great extent and duration of the Roman empire to those gods whom they claim to worship honorably, even by the observances of vile games and the ministry of vile men: although I would like first to inquire briefly what reason, what prudence, there is in wishing to glory in the greatness and extent of the empire, when you cannot point out the happiness of men who are always rolling, with dark fear and cruel lust, in warlike slaughters and in blood, which, whether shed in civil or foreign war, is still human blood; so that their joy may be compared to glass in its fragile splendor, which one is horribly afraid may suddenly be broken to pieces. So that this may be more easily discerned, let us not come to nothing by being carried away with empty boasting, or blunt the edge of our attention by loud-sounding names of things, when we hear of peoples, kingdoms, provinces. But let us suppose a case of two men; for each individual man, like one letter in a language, is, so to speak, the element of a city or kingdom, however far-spreading in its occupation of the earth. Let us suppose that one of these two men is poor, or rather of middling circumstances; the other very rich. But the rich man is anxious with fears, pining with discontent, burning with covetousness, never secure, always uneasy, panting from the perpetual strife of his enemies, adding immensely to his inherited estate, it is true, by these miseries, and by these additions also heaping up most bitter cares. But that other man of moderate wealth is contented with a small and compact estate, most dear to his own family, enjoying the sweetest peace with his kindred neighbors and friends, religious in piety, kind in mind, healthy in body, frugal in life, chaste in conduct, secure in conscience. I do not know whether anyone can be such a fool that he would dare to hesitate over which to prefer. As, therefore, in the case of these two men, so in two families, in two nations, in two kingdoms, this test of tranquility holds good; and if we apply it vigilantly and without prejudice, we shall quite easily see where the mere show of happiness dwells, and where real felicity does. Therefore if the true God is worshipped, and if He is served with genuine rites and true virtue, it is advantageous for good men to reign long and far and wide. And this is advantageous not so much to themselves as to those over whom they reign. For, as far as they themselves are concerned, their piety and probity, which are great gifts of God, suffice to give them true felicity, enabling them to live the present life well, and afterward to receive that which is eternal. In this world, therefore, the dominion of good men is profitable, not so much for themselves as for human affairs. But the dominion of bad men is harmful chiefly to the rulers themselves, for they destroy their own souls by greater license in wickedness; while those who are put under them in service are hurt only by their own iniquity. For to the just all the evils imposed on them by unjust rulers are not the punishment of crime, but the test of virtue. Therefore the good man, although he is a slave, is free; but the bad man, even if he reigns, is a slave, and that not of one man, but, what is far more grievous, of as many masters as he has vices; and when the divine Scripture treats of these vices, it says, “For of whom any man is overcome, to the same he is also the bond-slave.” 2 Peter 2:19

If justice is taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms? The band itself is made up of men; it is ruled by the authority of a prince, it is knit together by the pact of the confederacy; the booty is divided by the law agreed on. If, by the admission of depraved men, this evil increases to such a degree that it holds places, establishes dwellings, takes possession of cities, and subdues peoples, it assumes the name of a kingdom more plainly, because the reality is now manifestly conferred on it, not by the removal of covetousness, but by the addition of impunity. Indeed, a pirate who had been seized gave Alexander the Great an apt and true reply. For when that king had asked the man what he meant by keeping hostile possession of the sea, he answered with bold pride, “What you mean by seizing the whole earth; but because I do it with a small ship, I am called a robber, while you who do it with a great fleet are called emperor.”

I will not stop, therefore, to inquire what sort of men Romulus gathered together, since he deliberated much about them — how, once taken out of the life they led and into the fellowship of his city, they might cease to think of the punishment they deserved, the fear of which had driven them to greater villainies; so that from then on they might be made more peaceable members of society. But I say this, that the Roman empire, which by subduing many nations had already grown great and an object of universal dread, was itself greatly alarmed, and only with much difficulty avoided a disastrous overthrow, because a mere handful of gladiators in Campania, escaping from the games, had recruited a great army, appointed three generals, and devastated Italy far and wide and most cruelly. Let them say what god aided these men, so that from a small and contemptible band of robbers they attained a kingdom, feared even by the Romans, who had such great forces and fortresses. Or will they deny that they were divinely aided because they did not last long? As if, indeed, the life of any man whatever lasted long. In that case, too, the gods aid no one to reign, since all individuals quickly die; nor is sovereign power to be counted a benefit, because in a little time in every man, and thus in all of them one by one, it vanishes like a vapor. For what does it matter to those who worshipped the gods under Romulus, and are long since dead, that after their death the Roman empire has grown so great, while they plead their causes before the powers below? Whether those causes are good or bad, it does not matter to the question before us. And this applies to all those who carry with them the heavy burden of their actions, having in the few days of their life swiftly and hurriedly passed over the stage of the imperial office, although the office itself has lasted through long spaces of time, being filled by a constant succession of dying men. If, however, even those benefits which last only for the shortest time are to be ascribed to the aid of the gods, these gladiators were aided considerably, who broke the bonds of their servile condition, fled, escaped, raised a great and most powerful army, obedient to the will and orders of their chiefs and much feared by the Roman majesty, and remaining unsubdued by several Roman generals, seized many places, and, having won very many victories, enjoyed whatever pleasures they wished, and did what their lust suggested, and, until at last they were conquered, which was done with the utmost difficulty, lived sublime and dominant. But let us come to greater matters.

Justinus, who wrote Greek or rather foreign history in Latin, and briefly, like Trogus Pompeius whom he followed, begins his work this way: “In the beginning of the affairs of peoples and nations the government was in the hands of kings, who were raised to the height of this majesty not by courting the people, but by the knowledge good men had of their moderation. The people were bound by no laws; the decisions of the princes took the place of laws. It was the custom to guard rather than to extend the boundaries of the empire; and kingdoms were kept within the bounds of each ruler's native land. Ninus, king of the Assyrians, was the first, through a new lust for empire, to change the old and, as it were, ancestral custom of nations. He first made war on his neighbors, and wholly subdued the nations as far as the frontiers of Libya, which were not yet trained to resist.” And a little later he says: “Ninus established by constant possession the greatness of the authority he had gained. Having mastered his nearest neighbors, he went on to others, strengthened by the addition of forces, and by making each fresh victory the instrument of the next, subdued the nations of the whole East.” However faithful to the facts he or Trogus may have been in general — for other, more trustworthy writers show that they sometimes told lies — other authors agree that the kingdom of the Assyrians was extended far and wide by King Ninus. And it lasted so long that the Roman empire has not yet attained the same age; for, as those who have written on chronological history report, this kingdom endured for twelve hundred and forty years from the first year in which Ninus began to reign, until it was transferred to the Medes. But to make war on your neighbors, and from there to proceed to others, and through mere lust of dominion to crush and subdue people who do you no harm, what can this be called but great robbery?

If this kingdom was so great and lasting without the aid of the gods, why is the ample territory and long duration of the Roman empire to be ascribed to the Roman gods? For whatever the cause is in the one case, it is the same in the other. But if they contend that the prosperity of the other is also to be attributed to the aid of the gods, I ask, which gods? For the other nations that Ninus overcame did not then worship other gods. Or if the Assyrians had gods of their own, who, so to speak, were more skillful workmen in the construction and preservation of the empire, are they dead, since they too have lost the empire; or, having been defrauded of their pay, or promised greater pay, have they chosen instead to go over to the Medes, and from them again to the Persians, because Cyrus invited them, and promised them something still more advantageous? This nation, indeed, since the time of the kingdom of Alexander the Macedonian, which was as brief in duration as it was great in extent, has preserved its own empire, and today occupies no small territory in the East. If this is so, then either the gods are unfaithful, who desert their own and go over to their enemies, which Camillus, who was only a man, did not do, when, as the victor and conqueror of a most hostile state, although he had felt that Rome, for whom he had done so much, was ungrateful, afterward, forgetting the injury and remembering his native land, he freed her again from the Gauls; or they are not so strong as gods ought to be, since they can be overcome by human skill or strength. Or if, when they carry on war among themselves, the gods are not overcome by men, but some gods who belong to particular cities are perhaps overcome by other gods, it follows that they have quarrels among themselves, each upholding his own side. Therefore a city ought not to worship its own gods, but rather others who aid their own worshippers. Finally, whatever the case may have been with this change of sides, or flight, or migration, or failure in battle on the part of the gods, the name of Christ had not yet been proclaimed in those parts of the earth when these kingdoms were lost and transferred through great destructions in war. For if, after more than twelve hundred years, when the kingdom was taken away from the Assyrians, the Christian religion had already preached there another eternal kingdom, and put a stop to the sacrilegious worship of false gods, what else would the foolish men of that nation have said, except that the kingdom that had been preserved so long could be lost for no other reason than the desertion of their own religions and the reception of Christianity? In this foolish speech, which might have been uttered, let those we are speaking of see their own likeness, and blush, if there is any sense of shame in them, because they have uttered similar complaints; although the Roman empire is afflicted rather than changed — something that has happened to it at other times also, before the name of Christ was heard, and it has been restored after such affliction — something that is not to be despaired of even in these times. For who knows the will of God concerning this matter?

Next let us ask, if they will allow it, out of such a great crowd of gods that the Romans worship, which one in particular, or which gods they believe to have extended and preserved that empire. Surely they do not dare ascribe any part of this work, which is so excellent and so very full of the highest dignity, to the goddess Cloacina; or to Volupia, who takes her name from voluptuousness; or to Libentina, who takes her name from lust; or to Vaticanus, who presides over the screaming of infants; or to Cunina, who rules over their cradles. But how is it possible to recount in one part of this book all the names of gods or goddesses, which they could scarcely fit into great volumes, assigning these divinities their particular offices over single things? They have not even thought that the care of their lands should be committed to any one god; instead they have entrusted their farms to Rusina; the ridges of the mountains to Jugatinus; over the hills they have set the goddess Collatina; over the valleys, Vallonia. Nor could they even find one Segetia so competent that they could entrust all their grain crops to her care at once; but as long as their seed-grain was still under the ground, they wanted the goddess Seia set over it; then, whenever it was above ground and formed straw, they set over it the goddess Segetia; and when the grain was collected and stored, they set over it the goddess Tutilina, so that it might be kept safe. Who would not have thought that the goddess Segetia was sufficient to take care of the standing grain until it had passed from the first green blades to the dry ears? Yet she was not enough for men who loved a multitude of gods, so that the miserable soul, despising the chaste embrace of the one true God, was prostituted to a crowd of demons. Therefore they set Proserpina over the germinating seeds; over the joints and knots of the stems, the god Nodotus; over the sheaths enfolding the ears, the goddess Voluntina; when the sheaths opened so that the spike might shoot out, it was ascribed to the goddess Patelana; when the stems all stood level with new ears, because the ancients described this equalizing by the term hostire, it was ascribed to the goddess Hostilina; when the grain was in flower, it was dedicated to the goddess Flora; when full of milk, to the god Lacturnus; when maturing, to the goddess Matuta; when the crop was runcated — that is, removed from the soil — to the goddess Runcina. And I have not yet listed them all, for I am sick of all this, though it causes them no shame. I have mentioned these very few things only so that it may be understood that they cannot possibly dare to say that the Roman empire has been established, increased, and preserved by their deities, who had all their own functions assigned to them in such a way that no general oversight was entrusted to any one of them. How, then, could Segetia take care of the empire, when she was not allowed to take care of the grain and the trees? How could Cunina think about war, when her oversight was not allowed to go beyond the babies' cradles? How could Nodotus give help in battle, when he had nothing to do even with the sheath of the ear, but only with the knots of the joints? Everyone sets a doorkeeper at the door of his house, and because he is a man, he is quite sufficient; but these people have set three gods, Forculus to the doors, Cardea to the hinge, Limentinus to the threshold. Thus Forculus could not also take care of the hinge and the threshold at the same time.

So, omitting or passing over for a while that crowd of petty gods, we ought to inquire into the part performed by the great gods, by which Rome has been made so great as to reign so long over so many nations. Doubtless, therefore, this is the work of Jove. For they insist that he is the king of all the gods and goddesses, as is shown by his scepter and by the Capitol on the lofty hill. About that god they circulate a saying which, although it is a poet's, is most apt, “All things are full of Jove.” Varro believes that this god is worshipped, though under another name, even by those who worship one God alone without any image. But if this is so, why has he been so badly treated at Rome (and indeed by other nations too), that an image of him was made?— a thing which was so displeasing to Varro himself, that although he was overpowered by the perverse custom of so great a city, he did not hesitate in the least to both say and write that those who have appointed images for the people have both taken away fear and added error.

And why is Juno united to him as his wife, who is called at once “sister and yoke-fellow?” Because, they say, we have Jove in the ether, Juno in the air; and these two elements are united, the one being superior, the other inferior. It is not he, then, of whom it is said, “All things are full of Jove,” if Juno also fills some part. Does each fill either, and are both of this couple in both of these elements, and in each of them at the same time? Why, then, is the ether given to Jove, the air to Juno? Besides, these two should have been enough. Why is it that the sea is assigned to Neptune, the earth to Pluto? And so that these also would not be left without mates, Salacia is joined to Neptune, Proserpine to Pluto. For they say that, as Juno possesses the lower part of the heavens, — that is, the air — so Salacia possesses the lower part of the sea, and Proserpine the lower part of the earth. They look for a way to patch up these fables, but they find no way. For if these things were so, their ancient sages would have maintained that there are three chief elements of the world, not four, in order that each of the elements might have a pair of gods. Yet they have firmly affirmed that the ether is one thing, the air another. But water, whether higher or lower, is surely water. However unlike it may be, can it ever be so unlike that it is no longer water? And the lower earth, by whatever divinity it may be distinguished, what else can it be but earth? Lo, then, since the whole physical world is complete in these four or three elements, where will Minerva be? What is she to possess, what is she to fill? For she is placed in the Capitol along with these two, although she is not the offspring of their marriage. Or if they say that she possesses the higher part of the ether — and on that account the poets have invented the story that she sprang from the head of Jove — why then is she not reckoned queen of the gods instead, because she is superior to Jove? Is it because it would be improper to set the daughter before the father? Why, then, is that rule of justice not observed in the case of Jove himself toward Saturn? Is it because he was conquered? Did they fight, then? By no means, they say; that is an old wives' tale. Lo, we are not to believe fables, and must hold more worthy opinions concerning the gods! Why, then, do they not assign to the father of Jove a seat, if not of higher, at least of equal honor? Because Saturn, they say, is length of time. Therefore those who worship Saturn worship Time; and it is implied that Jupiter, the king of the gods, was born of Time. For is anything unworthy said when Jupiter and Juno are said to have sprung from Time, if he is the heaven and she is the earth, since both heaven and earth have been made, and are therefore not eternal? For their learned and wise men have this also in their books. Nor did Virgil take that saying from poetic fictions, but from the books of philosophers: Then Ether, the Father Almighty, in copious showers descended / Into his spouse's glad bosom, making it fertile, — that is, into the bosom of Tellus, or the earth. Here too, however, they insist that there are some differences, and think that in the earth herself Terra is one thing, Tellus another, and Tellumo another. And they have all these as gods, called by their own names distinguished by their own offices, and venerated with their own altars and rites. They also call this same earth the mother of the gods, so that even the fictions of the poets are more tolerable, if, according not to their poetical but to their sacred books, Juno is not only the sister and wife, but also the mother of Jove. The same earth they worship as Ceres, and also as Vesta; while they more often affirm that Vesta is nothing else than fire, pertaining to the hearths, without which the city cannot exist; and therefore virgins usually serve her, because as nothing is born of a virgin, so nothing is born of fire — but all this nonsense ought to be completely abolished and extinguished by Him who is born of a virgin. For who can bear the fact that, while they ascribe to the fire so much honor, and, as it were, chastity, they do not blush sometimes even to call Vesta Venus, so that honored virginity may vanish in her hand-maidens? For if Vesta is Venus, how can virgins rightly serve her by abstaining from sexual love? Are there two Venuses, the one a virgin, the other not a virgin? Or rather, are there three, one the goddess of virgins, who is also called Vesta, another the goddess of wives, and another of harlots? To her also the Phenicians offered a gift by prostituting their daughters before they united them to husbands. Which of these is the wife of Vulcan? Certainly not the virgin, since she has a husband. Far be it from us to say it is the harlot, for fear we might seem to wrong the son of Juno and fellow-worker of Minerva. Therefore it is to be understood that she belongs to the married people; but we would not want them to imitate her in what she did with Mars. “Again,” they say, “you return to fables.” What sort of justice is that, to be angry with us because we say such things of their gods, and not to be angry with themselves, who in their theaters most willingly watch the crimes of their gods? And — an incredible thing, if it were not thoroughly proved — these very theatrical representations of the crimes of their gods have been instituted in honor of these same gods.

Let them, then, assert as many things as they please in physical reasonings and disputations. At one moment let Jupiter be the soul of this corporeal world, who fills and moves that whole mass, constructed and compacted out of four, or as many elements as they please; at another, let him yield to his sister and brothers their parts of it: now let him be the ether, so that from above he may embrace Juno, the air spread out beneath; again, let him be the whole heaven along with the air, and impregnate the earth with fertilizing showers and seeds, as his wife, and, at the same time, his mother (for this is not vile in divine beings); and yet again (so that it is not necessary to run through them all), let him, the one god, of whom many think a most noble poet has said, For God pervades all things, / All lands, and the tracts of the sea, and the depth of the heavens, — let it be him who in the ether is Jupiter; in the air, Juno; in the sea, Neptune; in the lower parts of the sea, Salacia; in the earth, Pluto; in the lower part of the earth, Proserpine; on the domestic hearths, Vesta; in the furnace of the workmen, Vulcan; among the stars, Sol and Luna, and the Stars; in divination, Apollo; in merchandise, Mercury; in Janus, the initiator; in Terminus, the terminator; Saturn, in time; Mars and Bellona, in war; Liber, in vineyards; Ceres, in cornfields; Diana, in forests; Minerva, in learning. Finally, let it be him who is in that crowd, as it were, of plebeian gods: let him preside under the name of Liber over the seed of men, and under that of Libera over that of women: let him be Diespiter, who brings the child forth into the light of day: let him be the goddess Mena, whom they set over the menstruation of women: let him be Lucina, who is invoked by women in childbirth: let him bring help to those who are being born, by taking them up from the bosom of the earth, and let him be called Opis: let him open the mouth of the crying baby, and be called the god Vaticanus: let him lift it from the earth, and be called the goddess Levana; let him watch over cradles, and be called the goddess Cunina: let it be no other than he who is in those goddesses, who sing the fates of the newborn, and are called Carmentes: let him preside over fortuitous events, and be called Fortuna: in the goddess Rumina, let him give milk from the breast to the little one, because the ancients termed the breast ruma: in the goddess Potina, let him administer drink: in the goddess Educa, let him supply food: from the terror of infants, let him be called Paventia: from the hope which comes, Venilia: from voluptuousness, Volupia: from action, Agenor: from the stimulants by which man is spurred on to much action, let him be named the goddess Stimula: let him be the goddess Strenia, for making strenuous; Numeria, who teaches counting; Camoena, who teaches singing: let him be both the god Consus for granting counsel, and the goddess Sentia for inspiring sentences: let him be the goddess Juventas, who, after the robe of boyhood is laid aside, takes charge of the beginning of the youthful age: let him be Fortuna Barbata, who endows adults with a beard, whom they have not chosen to honor; so that this divinity, whatever it may be, should at least be a male god, named either Barbatus, from barba, like Nodotus, from nodus; or, certainly, not Fortuna, but because he has beards, Fortunius: let him, in the god Jugatinus, yoke couples in marriage; and when the girdle of the virgin wife is loosed, let him be invoked as the goddess Virginiensis: let him be Mutunus or Tuternus, who, among the Greeks, is called Priapus. If they are not ashamed of it, let all these which I have named, and whatever others I have not named (for I have not thought it fitting to name them all), let all these gods and goddesses be that one Jupiter, whether, as some claim, all these are parts of him, or are his powers, as those think who are pleased to consider him the soul of the world, which is the opinion of most of their learned men, and the greatest of them. If these things are so (I do not yet inquire how evil they may be), what would they lose, if, by a more prudent abridgment, they worshipped one god? For what part of him could be scorned if he himself were worshipped? But if they are afraid that parts of him might be angry at being passed by or neglected, then it is not the case, as they claim, that this whole is like the life of one living being, which contains all the gods together, as if they were its virtues, or members, or parts; but each part has its own life separate from the rest, if it is true that one can be angered, appeased, or stirred up more than another. But if it is said that all together — that is, the whole Jove himself — would be offended if his parts were not also worshipped singly and minutely, that is foolish talk. Surely none of them could be passed by if he who alone possesses them all were worshipped. For, to omit other things which are innumerable, when they say that all the stars are parts of Jove, and are all alive, and have rational souls, and are therefore undoubtedly gods, can they not see how many they do not worship, to how many they do not build temples or set up altars, and to how very few, in fact, of the stars they have thought of setting them up and offering sacrifice? If, therefore, those who are not worshipped individually are displeased, do they not fear to live with only a few appeased, while all heaven is displeased? But if they worship all the stars because they are part of Jove whom they worship, by the same shortcut they could pray to them all in him alone. For in this way no one would be displeased, since in him alone all would be prayed to. No one would be scorned, instead of just cause for displeasure being given to the much greater number who are passed by in the worship offered to some; especially when Priapus, stretched out in vile nakedness, is preferred to those who shine from their heavenly home.

Ought not men of intelligence, and indeed men of every kind, to be stirred up to examine the nature of this opinion? For no exceptional ability is needed for this task, so that, putting away the desire for contention, they may observe that if God is the soul of the world, and the world is like a body to Him, who is the soul, He must be one living being consisting of soul and body, and that this same God is a kind of womb of nature containing all things in Himself, so that the lives and souls of all living things are taken, according to the manner of each one's birth, out of His soul, which gives life to that whole mass, and therefore nothing at all remains which is not a part of God. And if this is so, who cannot see what impious and irreligious consequences follow, such as that whatever anyone tramples, he must trample a part of God, and in killing any living creature, a part of God must be slaughtered? But I am unwilling to utter all that may occur to those who think of it, yet cannot be spoken without irreverence.

But if they contend that only rational animals, such as men, are parts of God, I do not really see how, if the whole world is God, they can separate beasts from being parts of Him. But what need is there to argue about that? Concerning the rational animal himself — that is, man — what more miserable belief could anyone hold than that a part of God is whipped when a boy is whipped? And who, unless he is quite mad, could bear the thought that parts of God can become lascivious, iniquitous, impious, and altogether damnable? In brief, why is God angry at those who do not worship Him, since these offenders are parts of Himself? It remains, therefore, that they must say that all the gods have their own lives; that each one lives for himself, and none of them is a part of anyone; but that all are to be worshipped, — at least as many as can be known and worshipped; for there are so many that not all of them can be. And of all these, I believe that Jupiter, because he presides as king, is thought by them to have both established and extended the Roman empire. For if he has not done it, what other god do they believe could have attempted so great a work, when they must all be occupied with their own offices and works, and none can intrude on another's? Could the kingdom of men then be propagated and increased by the king of the gods?

Here, first of all, I ask why the kingdom itself is not also some god. For why should it not be one too, if Victory is a goddess? Or what need is there for Jove himself in this matter, if Victory favors and is propitious, and always goes to those whom she wishes to be victorious? With this goddess favorable and propitious, even if Jove was idle and did nothing, what nations could remain unsubdued, what kingdom would not yield? But perhaps it is displeasing to good men to fight with the most wicked unrighteousness, and to provoke, by a war of their own choosing, neighbors who are peaceable and do no wrong, in order to enlarge a kingdom? If they feel this way, I entirely approve and praise them.

Let them ask, then, whether it is quite fitting for good men to rejoice in an extended empire. For the iniquity of those with whom just wars are carried on favors the growth of a kingdom, which would certainly have been small if the peace and justice of neighbors had not provoked war against them by any wrong; and with human affairs thus happier, all kingdoms would have been small, rejoicing in neighborly concord; and thus there would have been very many kingdoms of nations in the world, as there are very many houses of citizens in a city. Therefore, to carry on war and extend a kingdom over wholly subdued nations seems felicity to bad men, and necessity to good men. But because it would be worse for the injurious to rule over those who are more righteous, even that may fairly be called felicity. But beyond doubt it is greater felicity to have a good neighbor at peace, than to conquer a bad one by making war. Your wishes are bad when you want someone you hate or fear to be in such a condition that you can conquer him. If, therefore, by carrying on wars that were just, not impious or unrighteous, the Romans could have acquired so great an empire, should they not worship even the injustice of foreigners as a goddess? For we see that this has contributed much to extending the empire, by making foreigners so unjust that they became people with whom just wars might be carried on, and the empire increased. And why should injustice, at least the injustice of foreign nations, not also be a goddess, if Fear and Dread and Ague have deserved to be Roman gods? By these two, therefore — that is, by foreign injustice, and the goddess Victoria, for injustice stirs up causes of wars, and Victoria brings these same wars to a happy end — the empire has increased, even though Jove has been idle. For what part could Jove have here, when the things that might be thought his benefits are held to be gods, called gods, worshipped as gods, and are themselves invoked for their own parts? He too might have some part here, if he himself could be called Empire, just as she is called Victory. Or if empire is the gift of Jove, why should victory not also be held to be his gift? And it certainly would have been held to be so, if he had been recognized and worshipped, not as a stone in the Capitol, but as the true King of kings and Lord of lords.

But I wonder very much that, while they assigned single things to separate gods, and (nearly) all movements of the mind; that while they invoked the goddess Agenoria, who would rouse men to action; the goddess Stimula, who would stimulate them to unusual action; the goddess Murcia, who would not move men beyond measure, but make them, as Pomponius says, murcid — that is, too slothful and inactive; the goddess Strenua, who would make them strenuous; and that while they offered to all these gods and goddesses solemn and public worship, they were nevertheless unwilling to give public acknowledgment to her whom they name Quies because she makes men quiet, but built her temple outside the Colline gate. Was this a symptom of an unquiet mind, or was it rather a hint that whoever persevered in worshipping that crowd, not, to be sure, of gods, but of demons, could not live in quiet, the quiet to which the true Physician calls, saying, “Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly in heart, and you shall find rest to your souls?”

Or do they say, perhaps, that Jupiter sends the goddess Victoria, and that she, as it were acting in obedience to the king of the gods, comes to those to whom he may have dispatched her, and takes up her quarters on their side? This is truly said, not of Jove, whom they, according to their own imagination, pretend is king of the gods, but of Him who is the true eternal King, because he sends, not Victory, who is no person, but His angel, and causes whomever He pleases to conquer; whose counsel may be hidden, but cannot be unjust. For if Victory is a goddess, why is Triumph not also a god, and joined to Victory either as husband, or brother, or son? Indeed, they have imagined such things concerning the gods, that if the poets had invented anything like them, and we had discussed it, they would have replied that they were laughable figments of the poets not to be attributed to true deities. And yet they themselves did not laugh when they were not reading such doting follies in the poets, but worshipping them in the temples. Therefore they should entreat Jove alone for all things, and pray to him only. For if Victory is a goddess, and is under him as her king, wherever he sent her, she would not dare to resist and do her own will rather than his.

What shall we say, besides, of the idea that Felicity also is a goddess? She has received a temple; she has merited an altar; suitable rites of worship are paid to her. She alone, then, should be worshipped. For where she is present, what good thing can be absent? But what does a man want when he thinks Fortune also a goddess and worships her? Is felicity one thing, fortune another? Fortune, indeed, may be bad as well as good; but felicity, if it could be bad, would not be felicity. Certainly we ought to think all the gods of either sex (if they also have sex) are only good. Plato says this; other philosophers say this; all estimable rulers of the republic and the nations say this. How is it, then, that the goddess Fortune is sometimes good, sometimes bad? Is it perhaps the case that when she is bad she is not a goddess, but is suddenly changed into a malignant demon? How many Fortunes are there then? Just as many as there are men who are fortunate, that is, of good fortune. But since there must also be very many others who at the very same time are men of bad fortune, could she, being one and the same Fortune, be at the same time both bad and good — the one to these, the other to those? She who is the goddess, is she always good? Then she herself is felicity. Why, then, are two names given to her? Yet this is tolerable; for it is common for one thing to be called by two names. But why different temples, different altars, different rituals? There is a reason, they say, because Felicity is she whom the good have by previous merit; but fortune, which is termed good without any trial of merit, happens to both good and bad men fortuitously, hence also she is named Fortune. How, then, is she good, when she comes without any discernment — both to the good and to the bad? Why is she worshipped, when she is so blind, running at random to anyone at all, so that for the most part she passes by her worshippers, and clings to those who despise her? Or if her worshippers gain something, so that they are seen by her and loved, then she follows merit, and does not come fortuitously. What, then, becomes of that definition of fortune? What becomes of the opinion that she has received her very name from fortuitous events? For it profits one nothing to worship her if she is truly fortune. But if she distinguishes her worshippers, so that she may benefit them, she is not fortune. Or does Jupiter send her too, wherever he pleases? Then let him alone be worshipped; because Fortune is not able to resist him when he commands her, and sends her where he pleases. Or, at least, let the bad worship her, since they do not choose to have the merit by which the goddess Felicity might be invited.

To this supposed deity, whom they call Fortuna, they ascribe so much, indeed, that they have a tradition that the image of her, which was dedicated by the Roman matrons, and called Fortuna Muliebris, has spoken, and has said, more than once, that the matrons pleased her by their homage; which, indeed, if it is true, should not make us wonder. For it is not so difficult for malignant demons to deceive, and they ought all the more to notice their wits and wiles, because it is that goddess who comes by chance who has spoken, and not she who comes to reward merit. For Fortuna was loquacious, and Felicitas mute; and for what other reason than that men might not care to live rightly, having made Fortuna their friend, who could make them fortunate without any merit of their own? And truly, if Fortuna speaks, she should at least speak, not with a womanly, but with a manly voice; so that those who dedicated the image would not themselves think so great a miracle had been performed by feminine loquacity.

They have made Virtue also a goddess, which, indeed, if it could be a goddess, would have been preferable to many. And now, because it is not a goddess, but a gift of God, let it be obtained by prayer from Him, by whom alone it can be given, and the whole crowd of false gods vanishes. But why is Faith believed to be a goddess, and why does she herself receive a temple and an altar? For whoever prudently acknowledges her makes himself a dwelling for her. But how do they know what faith is, whose first and greatest function is that the true God may be believed in? But why was virtue not enough? Does it not include faith also? Since they have thought it proper to distribute virtue into four divisions — prudence, justice, fortitude, and temperance— and as each of these divisions has its own virtues, faith is among the parts of justice, and has the chief place among as many of us as know what that saying means, “The just shall live by faith.” Habakkuk 2:4 But if Faith is a goddess, I wonder why these keen lovers of a multitude of gods have wronged so many other goddesses, by passing them by, when they could have dedicated temples and altars to them likewise. Why has temperance not deserved to be a goddess, when some Roman princes have obtained no small glory on account of her? Why, in short, is fortitude not a goddess, who aided Mucius when he thrust his right hand into the flames; who aided Curtius, when for the sake of his country he threw himself headlong into the yawning earth; who aided Decius the father, and Decius the son, when they devoted themselves for the army?— though we might question whether these men had true fortitude, if this concerned our present discussion. Why have prudence and wisdom merited no place among the gods? Is it because they are all worshipped under the general name of Virtue itself? Then they could worship the true God in the same way too, of whom all the other gods are thought to be parts. But that one name of virtue includes both faith and chastity, which nevertheless have obtained separate altars in temples of their own.

Vanity, not truth, has made these goddesses. For these are gifts of the true God, not themselves goddesses. However, where virtue and felicity are, what else is sought? What can be enough for the man for whom virtue and felicity are not enough? Surely virtue covers everything we need to do, and felicity everything we need to wish for. If Jupiter, then, was worshipped in order that he might give these two things — because, if extent and duration of empire is something good, it belongs to this same felicity — why is it not understood that they are not goddesses, but the gifts of God? But if they are judged to be goddesses, then at least that other great crowd of gods should not be sought after. Having considered all the offices that their fancy has distributed among the various gods and goddesses, let them find out, if they can, anything that any god whatever could bestow on a man who has virtue and has felicity. What instruction could be sought from either Mercury or Minerva, when Virtue already had everything in herself? The ancients, indeed, define Virtue itself as the art of living well and rightly. Hence, because virtue is called ἀρετη in Greek, it has been thought that the Latins derived the term art from it. But if Virtue cannot come except to the clever, what need was there for the god Father Catius, who was to make men cautious, that is, acute, when Felicity could confer this? For being born clever belongs to felicity. Hence, although the goddess Felicity could not be worshipped by someone not yet born, so that, once made his friend, she might bestow this on him, she could still confer this favor on parents who were her worshippers, so that clever children would be born to them. What need did women in childbirth have to invoke Lucina, when, if Felicity were present, they would have, not only a good delivery, but good children too? What need was there to commend the children to the goddess Ops when they were being born; to the god Vaticanus in their birth-cry; to the goddess Cunina when lying in the cradle; to the goddess Rimina when nursing; to the god Statilinus when standing; to the goddess Adeona when coming; to Abeona when going away; to the goddess Mens so that they might have a good mind; to the god Volumnus, and the goddess Volumna, so that they might wish for good things; to the nuptial gods, so that they might make good matches; to the rural gods, and chiefly to the goddess Fructesca herself, so that they might receive the most abundant fruits; to Mars and Bellona, so that they might wage war well; to the goddess Victoria, so that they might be victorious; to the god Honor, so that they might be honored; to the goddess Pecunia, so that they might have plenty of money; to the god Aesculanus, and his son Argentinus, so that they might have brass and silver coin? They make Aesculanus the father of Argentinus for this reason: brass coin came into use before silver. But I wonder that Argentinus has not fathered Aurinus, since gold coin followed as well. If they could have him for a god, they would prefer Aurinus to both his father Argentinus and his grandfather Aesculanus, just as they set Jove before Saturn. Therefore, what need was there, for the sake of these gifts, whether of soul, body, or outward fortune, to worship and invoke such a great crowd of gods — not all of whom I have mentioned, nor have they themselves been able to provide minute and single gods for all human benefits, classified minutely and one by one — when the one goddess Felicity was able, with the greatest ease, to bestow all of them at once? Nor should any other be sought after, either to bestow good things or to avert evil. For why should they invoke the goddess Fessonia for the weary; for driving away enemies, the goddess Pellonia; for the sick, as a physician, either Apollo or Æsculapius, or both together if there were great danger? Neither should the god Spiniensis be entreated to root out the thorns from the fields; nor the goddess Rubigo to keep the mildew away — if Felicitas alone were present and on guard, either no evils would have arisen, or they would have been quite easily driven away. Finally, since we are dealing with these two goddesses, Virtue and Felicity, if felicity is the reward of virtue, she is not a goddess, but a gift of God. But if she is a goddess, why can she not be said to confer virtue itself, since it is a great felicity to attain virtue?

What, then, is this very great benefit that Varro boasts of having bestowed on his fellow citizens, by not only recounting the gods who ought to be worshipped by the Romans, but also telling what belongs to each of them? “Just as it is of no advantage,” he says, “to know the name and appearance of any man who is a physician, and not know that he is a physician, so,” he says, “it is of no advantage to know well that Æsculapius is a god, if you are not aware that he can bestow the gift of health, and consequently do not know why you ought to pray to him.” He also confirms this with another comparison, saying, “No one can live well, or even live at all, if he does not know who is a smith, who is a baker, who is a weaver, from whom he can seek any utensil, whom he may take for a helper, whom for a leader, whom for a teacher;” asserting, “that in this way no one can doubt that the knowledge of the gods is useful, if one can know what force, and faculty, or power any god may have in anything. For from this we may be able,” he says, “to know which god we ought to call on and invoke for any purpose, so that we do not do what too many tend to do, and ask for water from Liber, and wine from Lymphs.” Very useful indeed! Who would not thank this man if he could show the truth, and if he could teach that the one true God, from whom all good things are, is to be worshipped by men?

But how does it happen, if their books and rituals are true, and Felicity is a goddess, that she herself is not appointed as the only one to be worshipped, since she could confer all things, and all at once make men happy? After all, who wishes for anything for any reason other than to become happy? Why was it left to Lucullus to dedicate a temple to so great a goddess at so late a date, and after so many Roman rulers? Why did Romulus himself, ambitious as he was to found a fortunate city, not erect a temple to this goddess before all others? Why did he supplicate the other gods for anything, since he would have lacked nothing if she had been with him? Even he himself would not have been first a king, then afterward, as they think, a god, if this goddess had not favored him. Why, then, did he appoint Janus, Jove, Mars, Picus, Faunus, Tibernus, Hercules, and any others there were, as gods for the Romans? Why did Titus Tatius add Saturn, Ops, Sun, Moon, Vulcan, Light, and whatever others he added, among whom was even the goddess Cloacina, while Felicity was neglected? Why did Numa appoint so many gods and so many goddesses without this one? Was it perhaps because he could not see her among such a great crowd? Certainly king Hostilius would not have introduced the new gods Fear and Dread to be propitiated, if he could have known or worshipped this goddess. In the presence of Felicity, Fear and Dread would have disappeared — I do not say propitiated, but put to flight. Next, I ask, how is it that the Roman empire had already immensely increased before anyone worshipped Felicity? Was the empire, therefore, great rather than happy? How could there be true felicity where there was no true piety? For piety is the genuine worship of the true God, and not the worship of as many demons as there are false gods. Yet even afterward, when Felicity had already been taken into the number of the gods, the great infelicity of the civil wars followed. Was Felicity perhaps justly indignant, both because she was invited so late, and was invited not to honor, but rather to reproach, because along with her they worshipped Priapus, and Cloacina, and Fear and Dread, and Ague, and others that were not gods to be worshipped, but the crimes of the worshippers? Finally, if they thought fit to worship so great a goddess along with a most unworthy crowd, why at least was she not worshipped in a more honorable way than the rest? For is it not intolerable that Felicity is placed neither among the gods Consentes, who they allege are admitted into the council of Jupiter, nor among the gods whom they call Select? A temple could have been made for her that stood above the rest, both in the height of its site and in the dignity of its style. Indeed, why not something better than the one made for Jupiter himself? For who gave the kingdom even to Jupiter but Felicity? I am supposing that when he reigned he was happy. Felicity, however, is certainly more valuable than a kingdom. For no one doubts that a man could easily be found who would be afraid to be made a king; but no one is found who is unwilling to be happy. Therefore, if it is thought that they can be consulted by augury, or in any other way, the gods themselves should be consulted about this, whether they would be willing to make way for Felicity. If the place were perhaps already occupied by the temples and altars of others, where a greater and loftier temple might be built to Felicity, even Jupiter himself might give way, so that Felicity could instead have the very pinnacle of the Capitoline hill. No one would resist Felicity except someone who wished to be unhappy, which is impossible. Certainly, if he were consulted, Jupiter would in no case do what those three gods, Mars, Terminus, and Juventas, did, who positively refused to make way for their superior and king. For, as their books record, when king Tarquin wished to construct the Capitol, and perceived that the place which seemed to him to be the most worthy and suitable was already occupied by other gods, not daring to do anything against their wishes, and believing that they would willingly make way for a god who was so great, and was their own master, because there were many of them there when the Capitol was founded, he inquired by augury whether they were willing to make way for Jupiter, and they were all willing to move from there except those whom I have named, Mars, Terminus, and Juventas; and therefore the Capitol was built in such a way that these three were also within it, though with signs so obscure that even the most learned men could scarcely know this. Surely, then, Jupiter himself would by no means despise Felicity, as he was himself despised by Terminus, Mars, and Juventas. But even those who had not made way for Jupiter would certainly make way for Felicity, who had made Jupiter king over them. Or if they did not make way, they would act this way not out of contempt for her, but because they would rather be obscure in the house of Felicity than eminent without her in their own places. With the goddess Felicity thus established in the largest and loftiest place, the citizens would learn where to seek the furtherance of every good desire. And so, by the persuasion of nature herself, the superfluous multitude of other gods would be abandoned, and Felicity alone would be worshipped, prayer would be made to her alone, her temple alone would be frequented by the citizens who wished to be happy, as all of them would wish to be; and thus felicity, which was sought from all the gods, would be sought only from her. For who wishes to receive from any god anything other than felicity, or what he supposes to tend to felicity? Therefore, if Felicity has it in her power to be with whatever man she pleases (and she has it if she is a goddess), what folly it is, after all, to seek her from any other god when you can obtain her by asking her herself! Therefore they ought to honor this goddess above other gods, even by dignity of place. For, as we read in their own authors, the ancient Romans paid greater honors to some Summanus or other, to whom they attributed nighttime thunderbolts, than to Jupiter, to whom daytime thunderbolts were held to belong. But, after a famous and conspicuous temple had been built to Jupiter, owing to the dignity of the building, the crowds flocked to him in such numbers that hardly anyone can be found who remembers even having read the name of Summanus, which he now never hears spoken. But if Felicity is not a goddess, because, as is true, it is a gift of God, that god must be sought who has power to give it, and that harmful multitude of false gods must be abandoned which the vain multitude of foolish men follows, making gods for itself out of the gifts of God, and offending Him whose gifts they are by the stubbornness of a proud will. For he cannot be free from infelicity who worships Felicity as a goddess, and forsakes God, the giver of felicity; just as he cannot be free from hunger who licks a painted loaf of bread, and does not buy it from the man who has a real one.

We may, however, consider their reasons. Are we to believe, they ask, that our ancestors were so deluded that they did not know that these things are divine gifts, and not gods? But since they knew that such things are granted to no one except by some god who freely bestows them, they called the gods whose names they could not discover by the names of the things they believed those gods gave; sometimes slightly altering the name for that purpose, as, for example, from war they named Bellona, not bellum; from cradles, Cunina, not cunæ; from standing grain, Segetia, not seges; from apples, Pomona, not pomum; from oxen, Bubona, not bos. Sometimes, again, they did not alter the word at all, but named the gods just as the things themselves are named, so that the goddess who gives money is called Pecunia, and money is not thought to be itself a goddess: so too with Virtus, who gives virtue; Honor, who gives honor; Concordia, who gives concord; Victoria, who gives victory. So, they say, when Felicitas is called a goddess, what is meant is not the thing itself which is given, but the deity who gives felicity.

Now that this reason has been given to us, we may perhaps much more easily persuade, as we wish, those whose hearts have not become too hardened. For if human weakness has now perceived that felicity cannot be given except by some god; if this was perceived by those who worshipped so many gods, at whose head they set Jupiter himself; if, not knowing the name of Him by whom felicity was given, they agreed to call Him by the name of that very thing which they believed He gave — then it follows that they thought that felicity could not be given even by Jupiter himself, whom they already worshipped, but certainly by him whom they thought fit to worship under the name of Felicity itself. I fully affirm their statement that they believed felicity was given by a certain God whom they did not know. So let Him be sought, let Him be worshipped, and it is enough. Let the crowd of countless demons be rejected, and let this God be enough for everyone for whom His gift is enough. The only person, I say, for whom worshipping God the giver of felicity will not be enough is the one for whom receiving felicity itself is not enough. But let the one for whom it is enough (and man has nothing more he ought to wish for) serve the one God, the giver of felicity. This God is not the one they call Jupiter. For if they acknowledged him to be the giver of felicity, they would not seek, under the name of Felicity itself, for another god or goddess by whom felicity might be given; nor could they tolerate Jupiter himself being worshipped with such infamous attributes. For he is said to be the debaucher of other men's wives; he is the shameless lover and ravisher of a beautiful boy.

“But,” says Cicero, “Homer invented these things, and transferred human things to the gods: I would rather transfer divine things to us.” The poet, by ascribing such crimes to the gods, has rightly displeased this serious man. Why, then, are the stage plays, where these crimes are habitually spoken of, acted, exhibited, in honor of the gods, counted among divine things by the most learned men? Cicero should exclaim, not against the inventions of the poets, but against the customs of the ancients. Would they not have exclaimed in reply, What have we done? The gods themselves have loudly demanded that these plays should be exhibited in their honor, have fiercely exacted them, have threatened destruction unless this was done, have avenged its neglect with great severity, and have shown pleasure when such neglect was made good. The following story is told among their virtuous and wonderful deeds. It was announced in a dream to Titus Latinius, a Roman countryman, that he was to go to the senate and tell them to begin again the games of Rome, because on the first day of their celebration a condemned criminal had been led to punishment in sight of the people, an incident so grim that it disturbed the gods who were seeking amusement from the games. And when the peasant who had received this message was afraid to deliver it to the senate the next day, it was repeated the following night more severely: he lost his son, because of his neglect. On the third night he was warned that a yet graver punishment was impending, if he still refused to obey. When even then he did not dare to obey, he fell into a virulent and horrible disease. But then, on the advice of his friends, he reported it to the magistrates, and was carried in a litter into the senate, and as soon as he had told his dream, he recovered his strength and walked away on his own feet, cured. The senate, amazed at so great a miracle, decreed that the games should be renewed at fourfold cost. What sensible man does not see that men, deceived by malignant demons, from whose domination nothing but the grace of God through Jesus Christ our Lord sets free, have been forced to put on, for gods like these, plays which, if they were well advised, they would condemn as shameful? It is certain that in these plays the poetic crimes of the gods are celebrated, yet they are plays which were re-established by decree of the senate, under compulsion of the gods. In these plays the most shameless actors celebrated Jupiter as the corrupter of chastity, and thus gave him pleasure. If that was a fiction, he would have been moved to anger; but if he was delighted with the representation of his crimes, even though fictitious, then, when he was worshipped, who but the devil was being served? Could he found, extend, and preserve the Roman empire, when he was viler than any Roman at all who found such things displeasing? Could he give felicity, when he was worshipped so infelicitously, and when, unless he was worshipped in this way, he was provoked to anger still more infelicitously?

It is recorded that the very learned pontiff Scævola had distinguished about three kinds of gods — one introduced by the poets, another by the philosophers, another by the statesmen. The first kind he declares to be trifling, because many unworthy things have been invented by the poets concerning the gods; the second does not suit states, because it contains some things that are superfluous, and some, too, which it would be harmful for the people to know. The superfluous things do not matter much, for it is a common saying of skillful lawyers, “Superfluous things do no harm.” But which things do harm when brought before the multitude? “These,” he says, “that Hercules, Æsculapius, Castor and Pollux, are not gods; for it is declared by learned men that these were only men, and yielded to the common lot of mortals.” What else? “That states do not have the true images of the gods; because the true God has neither sex, nor age, nor definite corporeal members.” The pontiff is not willing that the people should know these things; for he does not think they are false. He thinks it expedient, therefore, that states should be deceived in matters of religion; which Varro himself does not even hesitate to say in his books about things divine. Excellent religion! To it the weak person who needs to be delivered may flee for help; and when he seeks the truth by which he may be delivered, it is believed to be expedient for him to be deceived. And, truly, in these same books, Scævola is not silent about his reason for rejecting the poetic sort of gods — namely, “because they so disfigure the gods that they could not bear comparison even with good men, when they make one commit theft, another adultery; or, again, to say or do something else basely and foolishly; as that three goddesses competed (with each other) for the prize of beauty, and the two vanquished by Venus destroyed Troy; that Jupiter turned himself into a bull or swan so that he might copulate with someone; that a goddess married a man, and Saturn devoured his children; that, in short, there is nothing that could be imagined, either miraculous or vicious, that cannot be found there, and yet is far removed from the nature of the gods.” Chief pontiff Scævola, take away the plays if you are able; instruct the people not to offer such honors to the immortal gods, in which, if they like, they may admire the crimes of the gods, and, so far as it is possible, may, if they please, imitate them. But if the people answer you, You, pontiff, brought these things in among us, then ask the gods themselves, at whose prompting you ordered these things, not to order such things to be offered to them. For if they are bad, and therefore in no way to be believed concerning the majority of the gods, the greater is the wrong done to the gods about whom they are invented with impunity. But they do not hear you, they are demons, they teach wicked things, they rejoice in vile things; not only do they not count it a wrong if these things are invented about them, but it is a wrong they are quite unable to bear if they are not acted at their appointed festivals. But now, if you were to call on Jupiter against them, chiefly because more of his crimes are usually acted in the stage plays, is it not the case that, although you call him god Jupiter, by whom this whole world is ruled and administered, it is he to whom the greatest wrong is done by you, because you have thought he ought to be worshipped along with them, and have called him their king?

Therefore such gods, who are propitiated by such honors, or rather are impeached by them (for it is a greater crime to delight in having such things said of them falsely, than even if they could be said truly), could never by any means have been able to increase and preserve the Roman empire. For if they could have done it, they would rather have bestowed so grand a gift on the Greeks, who, in this kind of divine things — that is, in stage plays — have worshipped them more honorably and worthily, although they have not exempted themselves from those slanders of the poets, by whom they saw the gods torn in pieces, giving them license to abuse anyone they pleased, and have not considered the stage players themselves to be disreputable, but have held them worthy even of distinguished honor. But just as the Romans were able to have gold money, although they did not worship a god Aurinus, so also they could have silver and brass coin, and yet worship neither Argentinus nor his father Aesculanus; and so with all the rest, which it would be tedious for me to list. It follows, therefore, both that they could not by any means attain such dominion if the true God was unwilling; and that if these gods, false and many, were unknown or despised, and He alone was known and worshipped with sincere faith and virtue, they would both have a better kingdom here, whatever might be its extent, and whether they might have one here or not, would afterward receive an eternal kingdom.

For what kind of augury is the one they have declared most beautiful, and to which I referred a little ago, that Mars, and Terminus, and Juventas would not give way even to Jove, the king of the gods? For in this way, they say, it was signified that the nation dedicated to Mars — that is, the Roman — would yield to no one the place it once occupied; likewise, that on account of the god Terminus, no one would be able to disturb the Roman frontiers; and also, that the Roman youth, because of the goddess Juventas, would yield to no one. Let them see, therefore, how they can hold him to be the king of their gods, and the giver of their own kingdom, if these auguries cast him as an adversary whom it would have been honorable not to yield to. However, if these things are true, they need not be afraid at all. For they are not going to confess that the gods who would not yield to Jove have yielded to Christ. For, without altering the boundaries of the empire, Jesus Christ has proved Himself able to drive them, not only from their temples, but from the hearts of their worshippers. But, before Christ came in the flesh, and, indeed, before these things which we have quoted from their books could have been written, but after that auspice was taken under King Tarquin, the Roman army was scattered or put to flight several times, and showed the falseness of the auspice, which they derived from the fact that the goddess Juventas had not given way to Jove; and the nation dedicated to Mars was trampled in the city itself by the invading and triumphant Gauls; and the boundaries of the empire, through the falling away of many cities to Hannibal, had been hemmed into a narrow space. Thus the beauty of the auspices comes to nothing, and all that remains is the contumacy against Jove, not of gods, but of demons. For it is one thing not to have yielded, and another to return to where you have yielded. Besides, even afterward, in the East, the boundaries of the Roman empire were changed by the will of Hadrian; for he gave up to the Persian empire those three noble provinces, Armenia, Mesopotamia, and Assyria. Thus that god Terminus, who according to these books was the guardian of the Roman frontiers, and by that most beautiful auspice had not given way to Jove, would seem to have been more afraid of Hadrian, a king of men, than of the king of the gods. Those provinces were also taken back again, and almost within our own memory the frontier fell back, when Julian, devoted to the oracles of their gods, with immoderate daring ordered the supply ships to be set on fire. The army was thus left without provisions, he himself was soon killed by the enemy, and the legions, hard pressed and dismayed by the loss of their commander, were reduced to such extremities that no one could have escaped, if a peace treaty had not then fixed the boundaries of the empire where they still remain; not, indeed, with as great a loss as Hadrian’s concession caused, but still at a considerable sacrifice. It was a vain augury, then, that the god Terminus did not yield to Jove, since he yielded to the will of Hadrian, and yielded also to the rashness of Julian, and the necessity of Jovinian. The more intelligent and serious Romans have seen these things, but have had little power against the custom of the state, which was bound to observe the rites of the demons; because even they, although they saw that these things were empty, still thought that the religious worship which is due to God should be paid to the nature of things which is established under the rule and government of the one true God, “serving,” as the apostle says, “the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed forever.” Romans 1:25 The help of this true God was necessary to send holy and truly pious men, who would die for the true religion so that they might remove the false from among the living.

Cicero the augur laughs at auguries, and rebukes men for regulating the purposes of life by the cries of crows and jackdaws. But it will be said that an academic philosopher, who argues that all things are uncertain, is unworthy to have any authority in these matters. In the second book of his De Natura Deorum, he introduces Lucilius Balbus, who, after showing that superstitions have their origin in physical and philosophical truths, expresses his indignation at the setting up of images and fabulous notions, speaking thus: “Do you not see, then, that from true and useful physical discoveries the reason may be drawn away to fabulous and imaginary gods? This gives birth to false opinions and turbulent errors, and superstitions little better than old wives’ tales. For both the forms of the gods, and their ages, and clothing, and ornaments, are made familiar to us; their genealogies, too, their marriages, kinships, and all things about them, are debased to the likeness of human weakness. They are even presented as having troubled minds; for we have accounts of the lusts, cares, and angers of the gods. Nor, indeed, as the fables go, have the gods been without their wars and battles. And not only when, as in Homer, some gods on either side have defended two opposing armies, but they have even carried on wars on their own account, as with the Titans or with the Giants. It is quite absurd either to say or to believe such things: they are utterly frivolous and groundless.” Behold, now, what is confessed by those who defend the gods of the nations. Afterward he goes on to say that some things belong to superstition, but others to religion, which he sees fit to teach according to the Stoics. “For not only the philosophers,” he says, “but also our ancestors, have made a distinction between superstition and religion. For those,” he says, “who spent whole days in prayer, and offered sacrifice, so that their children might outlive them, are called superstitious.” Who does not see that he is trying, while he fears the public prejudice, to praise the religion of the ancients, and that he wishes to separate it from superstition, but cannot find out how to do so? For if those who prayed and sacrificed all day were called superstitious by the ancients, were the people who instituted (what he blames) the images of the gods of different ages and distinct clothing, and invented the genealogies of gods, their marriages, and kinships, also called superstitious? When, therefore, these things are found fault with as superstitious, he implicates in that fault the ancients who instituted and worshipped such images. Indeed, he implicates himself, who, however eloquently he may strive to extricate himself and be free, was still obliged to venerate these images; nor did he dare so much as whisper in a discourse to the people what in this disputation he plainly proclaims. Let us Christians, therefore, give thanks to the Lord our God — not to heaven and earth, as that author argues, but to Him who has made heaven and earth; because He, by the deepest lowliness of Christ, by the preaching of the apostles, by the faith of the martyrs dying for the truth and living with the truth, has overthrown these superstitions, which that Balbus, like a babbler, barely rebukes, not only in the hearts of the religious, but even in the temples of the superstitious, by their own free service.

What does Varro himself say, whom we are grieved to find placing the stage plays among divine things, although not by his own judgment? When in many passages he urges, like a religious man, the worship of the gods, does he not in doing so admit that in his own judgment he does not believe the things which he relates that the Roman state has instituted; so that he does not hesitate to affirm that if he were founding a new state, he could enumerate the gods and their names better by the rule of nature? But being born into a nation already ancient, he says that he finds himself bound to accept the traditional names and surnames of the gods, and the histories connected with them, and that his purpose in investigating and publishing these details is to incline the people to worship the gods, and not to despise them. With these words this most acute man indicates clearly enough that he does not publish all things, because they would not only have been contemptible to himself, but would have seemed despicable even to the rabble, unless they had been passed over in silence. I would be thought to be guessing at these things if he himself had not openly said, in another passage, in speaking of religious rites, that many things are true that it is not only useless for the common people to know, but that it is expedient that the people should think otherwise, even though falsely, and therefore the Greeks have shut up the religious ceremonies and mysteries in silence, and within walls. In this he no doubt expresses the policy of the so-called wise men by whom states and peoples are ruled. Yet by this crafty device the malign demons are wonderfully delighted — the demons who possess deceivers and deceived alike, and from whose tyranny nothing sets anyone free except the grace of God through Jesus Christ our Lord. The same most acute and learned author also says that those alone seem to him to have perceived what God is, who have believed Him to be the soul of the world, governing it by design and reason. From this it appears that, although he did not attain to the truth — for the true God is not a soul, but the maker and author of the soul — yet if he could have been free to go against the prejudices of custom, he could have confessed and counseled others that the one God ought to be worshipped, who governs the world by design and reason; so that the only point left to debate with him on this subject would be that he had called Him a soul, and not rather the creator of the soul. He says, also, that the ancient Romans, for more than a hundred and seventy years, worshipped the gods without an image. “And if this custom,” he says, “could have remained until now, the gods would have been more purely worshipped.” In favor of this opinion, he cites as a witness among others the Jewish nation; nor does he hesitate to conclude that passage by saying of those who first consecrated images for the people, that they have both taken away religious fear from their fellow citizens, and increased error, wisely thinking that the gods easily fall into contempt when presented in the dullness of images. But since he does not say they have transmitted error, but that they have increased it, he therefore wishes it to be understood that there was error already when there were no images. Therefore, when he says only those who have believed Him to be the governing soul of the world have perceived what God is, and thinks that the rites of religion would have been more purely observed without images, who fails to see how near he has come to the truth? For if he had been able to do anything against so inveterate an error, he would certainly have given it as his opinion both that the one God should be worshipped, and that He should be worshipped without an image; and having so nearly discovered the truth, perhaps he might easily have been reminded of the mutability of the soul, and might thus have perceived that the true God is that immutable nature which made the soul itself. Since these things are so, whatever ridicule such men have poured in their writings against the plurality of the gods, they have done so more because the secret will of God compelled them to confess the gods than because they were trying to persuade others. If, then, we cite any testimonies from these writings, we cite them to refute those who are unwilling to consider how great and malignant a power of the demons the singular sacrifice of the shedding of the most holy blood, and the gift of the imparted Spirit, can set us free from.

Varro says also, concerning the generations of the gods, that the people have inclined to the poets rather than to the natural philosophers; and that therefore their ancestors — that is, the ancient Romans — believed both in the sex and the generations of the gods, and arranged their marriages; which certainly seems to have been done for no other reason than that it was the business of such men as were prudent and wise to deceive the people in matters of religion, and in that very thing not only to worship, but also to imitate the demons, whose greatest lust is to deceive. For just as the demons cannot possess anyone but those whom they have deceived with guile, so also men in princely office, who were not just, but like demons, have persuaded the people in the name of religion to receive as true those things which they themselves knew to be false; in this way, as it were, binding them up more firmly in civil society, so that they might likewise possess them as subjects. But who, if weak and unlearned, could escape the deceits of both the princes of the state and the demons?

Therefore that God, the author and giver of felicity, because He alone is the true God, Himself gives earthly kingdoms both to the good and the bad. He does not do this rashly and, as it were, by chance — because He is God, not fortune — but according to the order of things and times, which is hidden from us, but thoroughly known to Himself; yet He does not serve this order of times as its subject, but Himself rules it as lord and directs it as governor. He gives felicity only to the good. Whether a man is a subject or a king makes no difference; he may equally either possess or not possess it. And it will be full in that life where there are no longer kings and subjects. And therefore earthly kingdoms are given by Him both to the good and the bad; so that His worshippers, still guided by a very weak mind, do not covet these gifts from Him as something great. And this is the mystery of the Old Testament, in which the New was hidden, that even earthly gifts are promised there: those who were spiritual understood even then, although they did not yet openly declare it, both the eternity symbolized by these earthly things and in which gifts of God true felicity could be found.

Therefore, so that it might be known that these earthly good things, which those who cannot imagine better things pant after, remain in the power of the one God Himself, not of the many false gods whom the Romans formerly believed worthy of worship, He multiplied His people in Egypt from very few, and delivered them out of it by wonderful signs. Nor did their women invoke Lucina when their offspring was being incredibly multiplied; and when that nation had increased incredibly, He Himself delivered them, He Himself saved them from the hands of the Egyptians, who persecuted them, and wished to kill all their infants. Without the goddess Rumina they were suckled; without Cunina they were cradled, without Educa and Potina they took food and drink; without all those gods of childhood they were educated; without the nuptial gods they were married; without the worship of Priapus they had marital relations; without invoking Neptune the divided sea opened up a way for them to pass over, and its returning waves overwhelmed their enemies who pursued them. They did not consecrate any goddess Mannia when they received manna from heaven; nor did they worship Nymphs and Lymphs when the rock that was struck poured out water for them in their thirst. Without the mad rites of Mars and Bellona they waged war; and while they did not, of course, conquer without victory, they did not consider it a goddess, but the gift of their God. Without Segetia they had harvests; without Bubona, oxen; honey without Mellona; apples without Pomona: and, in a word, everything for which the Romans thought they had to entreat such a great crowd of false gods, they received much more happily from the one true God. And if they had not sinned against Him with impious curiosity, which seduced them like magic arts, and drew them to foreign gods and idols, and at last led them to kill Christ, their kingdom would have remained theirs, and would have been, if not larger, at least happier than that of Rome. And that they are now dispersed through almost all lands and nations is due to the providence of that one true God; so that, while the images, altars, groves, and temples of the false gods are everywhere overthrown and their sacrifices prohibited, it may be shown from their books how this was foretold by their prophets so long before; otherwise, if these prophecies were read only in our books, they might seem to have been invented by us. But now, reserving what is to follow for the following book, we must here set a limit to the length of this one.