About the Blissful Life

The treatise “On the Blessed Life” was written by Bl. Aurelius Augustine in 386-391. in Cassiciac (probably the current city of Cassago Brianza in Italy). The work is dedicated to Mallius Theodore, a Christian, politician and writer, an admiring admirer of Plotinus, a man known in pagan circles. The work consists of 3 dialogues (competitions) and belongs to a group of works in which the influence of Neoplatonism is noticeable. The author writes that true happiness lies in knowing God and living a virtuous life. The need to search for a “blessed life” leads to a search for God, in Whose Wisdom is the highest measure that allows a person to achieve bliss. Thus, the task of philosophy is to teach the truth of the Christian faith. Blzh. Augustine emphasizes the need to study the liberal arts, because they allow the sage to discover the divine world order. *The title of the work in Latin is De vita beatata. If, benevolent and great Theodore, the direction given by reason and our good will had brought our ship to the harbor of a blessed life, then I am not sure that any significant number of people would have reached this harbor. However, as we see, very few are included in it now. For when God, or nature, or fate, or our will, or something else, or perhaps all of this at once (since this question is quite dark, although, as I heard, you have already taken up the clarification of it) throws us, as if for no reason and as it were, into this world, as if into some stormy sea, who and how would be able to realize where he needs to strive and which way to return, if not for some adversity that seems to fools misfortune, did not nail the wandering ones, albeit against their will and contrary to the direction they had accepted, to the most desirable land? So the people whom philosophy can accept into its harbor seem to me to be sailors of three different types. Some of them sail from those nearby places where their age finds them, bestowing wisdom: one small swing and stroke of the oars - and now they are already hidden in this peaceful place, from where they give a clear sign to the rest of the citizens as to what to do to whom, so that those, inspired by them, strive there. Another type, opposite to the previous one, are those who were seduced by the deceptive appearance of the open sea, who dared to sail away from their homeland, often forgetting about it. If such (I really don’t know how this happens, but it happens in an extremely mysterious way) the wind blows from the stern, which is considered favorable, they reach the greatest disasters, proud and rejoicing that they are constantly flattered by the deceptive abundance of pleasures and honors. What, in fact, can they wish for in such circumstances, which, while encouraging, trap them, if not bad weather, but, if not enough, then a cruel storm and contrary wind, which would lead them, albeit crying and sighing, but to true and lasting joys? However, many of this kind, who have not yet sailed very far, are brought back by certain and not so great sorrows. These are those people who, either due to the sad-tragic fate of their wealth, or because of annoying failures in small matters, as if for lack of other things to do, having read the books of learned and wise people, somehow awaken in the harbor itself, from where no promises of the insidiously smiling sea can lure them out. The third type of people among these are those who, either on the very threshold of youth, or who have already been carried by the wind for a long time, see some signs behind them, remember among the waves about their sweet homeland, and, without being deceived by anything else, without hesitating for a second, rush to it with full sail. Some of them, having lost their way from the straight path among the fogs, or following the setting stars, or being seduced by other temptations, postpone the time of a good voyage and wander further. Often they are also at risk. Sometimes they, too, are driven to their most desired and peaceful homeland by the collapse of fleeting blessings, as if by some storm contrary to their efforts. But all of them, no matter how they are brought to the land of blessed life, should be extremely afraid and with special caution avoid one dangerous mountain that rises at the very entrance to the harbor. this mountain shines so much, is shrouded in such a false light that it offers itself to those who have arrived, but have not yet entered, for habitation and promises the satisfaction of all their desires, as if it were the blissful land itself; sometimes she can even attract people from the harbor itself, giving them the pleasure of her height, from where they are pleased to look at others with contempt. However, the latter often remind those walking to beware of rocks hidden under the water, or not to consider it easy to climb to them; and in the most favorable manner they instruct how to enter the harbor without being exposed to danger from the proximity of this land. Envying them in their emptiest glory, they thus show them a much more reliable place. Under this mountain, which those approaching philosophy and entering its region must fear, common sense understands nothing more than a proud passion for the emptiest glory. To such an extent it does not have anything dense and solid within itself that it absorbs the proud people walking along it into its unsteady soil and, plunging them into darkness, deprives them of the brightest home, which they have almost already reached. If this is so, then understand, my Theodore - for in you I see and always honor the only and most gifted person capable of satisfying my wishes - understand, I say, to which type of people out of the said three I belong, in what place, in your opinion, I am, and what kind of help I can expect from you. I was in my twentieth year when, at rhetoric school, I read the famous book of Cicero, called “Hortensius,” and was inflamed with such a love for philosophy that I thought of switching to it at the same time. But, alas, there was no shortage of fogs that made my path difficult; For a long time, I admit, I was guided by the stars plunging into the ocean, which misled me. At first, some childhood timidity kept me from researching, and when I became bolder, dispersed this darkness and came to the conviction that one should rather trust those who teach than those who command, I ended up with people to whom this light perceived by the eyes seemed worthy of veneration on a par with the highest and divine. I did not agree with this, I thought that under this cover they were hiding something great that they would reveal to me someday later. When, having understood what was happening, I eluded them, my rudders, opposing all the winds, were held in their hands for a long time among the waves by the academicians. Then I came to these lands and here I recognized the polar star, to which I was finally able to entrust myself. From the speeches of our priest, and sometimes from yours, I saw that you should not think of anything corporeal when you think about God, nor when you think about the soul, since this object is closest to God. But, I admit, the attractiveness of a woman and a career kept me from immediately plunging into the bosom of philosophy: having experienced this, I believed only later (which only a few lucky people manage) to rush with all sails and oars to a peaceful harbor. Having read several books of Plato, of whom you are an ardent follower, and comparing with them, as best I could, the authoritative judgment of those who conveyed to us the divine secrets, I became inflamed to such an extent that I was ready to cut off all my anchors, if the opinion of some people had not swayed me. And then a storm arrived, which for some reason was considered a misfortune, to the aid of me, who had indulged in empty exercises. I was suddenly seized by such heartache that, not being able to bear the burden of that profession, which, perhaps, would have carried me to the sirens, I abandoned everything and brought my broken ship into the desired calm. So, you see in what philosophy, in what haven I am. But, although this harbor opens wide before me, and although its space is no longer dangerous, it does not exclude the possibility of error. For I absolutely do not know which part of the earth, the only blessed one, should I approach and land on. In fact, what solid thing have I developed when I am still hesitant and perplexed by the question of the soul? Therefore, I beg you in the name of your virtue, in the name of philanthropy, in the name of the union and communion of souls: extend your hand to me. And this means, love me and believe that, in turn, I love you and you are dear to me. If I beg this from you, then very easily and without much effort I will achieve the most blissful life, the owner of which I consider you to be. And so that you know what I am doing and how I am gathering my friends to this harbor and from here you know my soul more fully, I decided to address you and dedicate to your name the beginning of my competition, which, it seems to me, turned out to be reverent and completely worthy of your name. And this is natural, since we were talking about a blessed life. I don’t see anything that could more properly be called a gift from God. Your eloquence does not bother me, for I cannot be afraid of what I love, although I do not possess it; and I am even less afraid of the heights of fortune: no matter how great it is, it is still of secondary importance. Those whom it dominates, they themselves make second. Now I ask you to listen to what I intend to convey to you. The Ides of November was my birthday. After lunch, which was modest enough so as not to burden any of the mental faculties with it, I invited everyone who that day, as, indeed, always, shared a meal with me, to sit in the baths. With me were my mother, to whose merit, I think, everything I live belongs, my brother Navigius and my students Trigetius and Licentius. My cousins, Lastidian and Rusticus, were also present (although they do not tolerate any of the grammarians, I considered their common sense very useful in the undertaking that I was undertaking), and finally, the least of all for years, but whose abilities, if love does not deceive me, promise something great, was with us, my son Adeodatus. When everyone was seated and ready to listen, I asked: – Do you agree that we consist of soul and body? Everyone agreed, but Navigius objected that he probably didn’t know this. “Do you know absolutely nothing,” I ask, “or should this also be considered something that you don’t know?” “I don’t think I didn’t know anything at all.” -Can you tell us anything you know? “I can,” answered Navigy. Seeing, however, that he was hesitating, I asked: - Do you at least know that you are alive? - Do you therefore know that you have life? Nobody can live anything other than life. “I know,” he says, “and that too.” - Do you know that you have a body? “And so, do you already know that you consist of body and life?” – By the way, I know this too; but whether everything is limited only to the body and life, or whether there is something else, I don’t know. “So,” I say, “you don’t doubt your body and soul, but you don’t know if there is anything else that would serve to replenish and improve a person?” “What kind of “more” is this,” I say, “we’ll look at it another time; and now, since everyone agrees that a person cannot be either without a body or without a soul, I ask: for which of the two do we need food? “For the sake of the body,” replied Licencius. The rest doubted and began to argue that food is rather necessary not for the body, but for life, and life, meanwhile, belongs only to the soul. “Does it seem to you,” I said then, “that food is related to that part which, as we observe, grows and becomes stronger from food?” Everyone agreed with this, with the exception of Trigetius, who objected: - Why don’t I continue to grow due to my gluttony? “All bodies,” I answered, “have their own size established by nature, which they cannot outgrow; however, they become smaller in volume if they lack food, as is easily seen in the example of animals. And no one doubts that the bodies of all animals lose weight when deprived of food. “Losing weight,” Licentius noted, “does not mean decreasing in size.” – For what I wanted, what was said was enough. For the question is, does food belong to the body? and she belongs to him, because the body, when deprived of food, is reduced to thinness. Everyone agreed that this was true. “Doesn’t there exist,” I asked, “even food for the soul?” Does knowledge seem to you to be the food of the soul? “That’s right,” answered the mother, “I believe that the soul feeds on nothing other than the comprehension of things and knowledge.” When Trigetius found this opinion doubtful, his mother said to him: “Didn’t you yourself now show us where the soul comes from and where it feeds?” For after one dinner dish you said that you did not notice what kind of dishes we used because you were thinking about something else, although you did not keep your hands or teeth from the dish itself. So, where your spirit was at that moment, from there, and with this kind of food, believe me, your soul also feeds, feeds on speculation and reflection, if it can learn anything through them. “Don’t you agree,” I said when they argued noisily about this subject, “that the souls of the most learned people are, in their own way, fuller and greater than the souls of the ignorant?” – So, it would be correct to say that the souls of those people who are not enriched by any science, not saturated with any good knowledge, are skinny souls and, as it were, hungry? “I believe,” Tigetius objected, “that the souls of such people are full, but only full of vices and debauchery.” “What you mentioned,” I said, “is a kind of barrenness and, as it were, hunger of the spirit.” For just as the body, when deprived of food, is almost always subject to all kinds of diseases, so in the same way the souls of those people are full of such ailments as indicate their starvation. On this basis, the ancients called debauchery the mother of all vices, because it represents something negative, i.e. because it is nothing. The opposite virtue to this vice is called temperance. Thus, just as this latter received its name from the fruit due to a certain spiritual productivity, so it is called debauchery from sterility, i.e. from nothing: for nothing is everything that is destroyed, that is destroyed, that disappears and, as it were, constantly perishes. That’s why we call such people dead. The opposite of this is something abiding, constant, always remaining the same: such is virtue, a significant and most beautiful part of which is called moderation or temperance. If this does not seem clear enough for you to understand, then at least agree with me that both for the body and for the soul - since the souls of the ignorant are, as it were, full - there are two kinds of food: one is healthy and beneficial, the other is unhealthy and harmful. And if this is so, then I believe that on my birthday I should offer the best meal not only for our bodies, but also for the soul, since we have agreed that man consists of body and soul. But I will offer you this meal if you are hungry. For if I try to feed you when you are unwilling and disdainful, then I will waste my labors in vain, and it would be desirable if you demanded this kind of food rather than bodily food. This will happen if your souls are healthy, because the sick, as we see in illnesses of the body, refuse their food and do not take it. Those present approved of my speech and said that whatever I produced, they already accepted and thanked me in advance. – Do we want to be blessed? – I asked, re-entering the conversation. As soon as I uttered these words, everyone immediately answered with one voice that it was so. “Do you consider,” I ask further, “a blessed person who does not have what he desires?” “So everyone who has what they desire is blessed?” “Blessed is he,” the mother answers, “who desires and has good; if he wants something bad, then he is unhappy, even if he had it. “You, mother,” I tell her with a joyful smile, “have decisively mastered the very strength of philosophy.” Only for lack of words you did not express yourself as extensively as Tullius, with whose saying your words agree. In the essay “Hortensia”, written by him in praise and defense of philosophy, he says the following: “Here, everyone - not philosophers, however, but people who are ready to argue - say that the blessed are those who live the way they want; but this is incorrect, since wanting what is not decent is in itself the greatest misfortune. Not getting what you want is not so much disastrous as wanting to get what you shouldn’t. For the depravity of the will does more evil to everyone than fortune does good.” “But,” says Licentius, “now you should tell us what everyone should desire and what he should strive for in order to be blessed.” “If you like,” I remarked to him, “invite me on your birthday, I will willingly eat whatever you offer me.” On the same terms, I ask you to eat with me today and not demand anything that, perhaps, has not yet been prepared. When he began to regret his modest remark, I said: - So, we agree that one who does not have what he wants cannot be blessed; and, on the other hand, not everyone is happy who has what he desires. Wouldn't you also agree that he is unhappy who is not blessed? There were no doubters. – So everyone who doesn’t have what they want is unhappy? Everyone agreed that this was true. “What,” I continue, “should a person prepare for himself in order to be blessed?” It may be that at this feast of ours this dish will also be served, so that Licentius’s hunger will not remain unsatisfied: for, in my opinion, I must prepare for him what he would always have whenever he wanted. So, it must always be abiding, independent of fortune and not subject to any accidents, since we cannot have anything mortal and transitory at the time when we desire and as quickly as we desire. “There are many such lucky people who possess in abundance these things that are perishable and subject to chance, but pleasant for real life, so that they do not lack anything that they desire. “Does anyone who experiences fear seem blessed to you?” – But can someone who may lose the things he loves not be afraid? - However, these random benefits that you talk about may be lost. Therefore, the one who loves them and possesses them cannot be blessed. He did not argue against this. “But,” added the mother, “even if he were calm about the fact that he would not lose all this, in that case he could not be satisfied with this kind of thing.” This means that he is unhappy simply because he remains constantly in need. “Doesn’t it seem to you that a person who has all these things in abundance is blessed if he limits his desires and, completely satisfied with these things, enjoys them moderately and decently?” “In that case,” she answered, “he is blessed not by these things, but by the moderation of his spirit.” - Wonderful! There should be no other answer to this question. So, we have no doubt at all that he who decides to be blessed must acquire for himself that which always abides and that cannot be stolen by any fierce fortune. “We agreed on this,” Trigetius noted, “even earlier.” “Doesn’t it seem to you,” I asked, “that God is eternal and always abiding, unchanging?” “This,” answered Licencius, “is so obvious that it does not need discussion.” Others agreed with this pious answer. “So,” I said, “blessed is he who has God.” When everyone happily and willingly accepted this position, I continued: “I think that now we only have to find out one thing: which of the people has God; for such a person will be truly blessed. What do you think about this? To this Licentius said that he who lives well has God; and Trigetius - that he has God who does what is pleasing to God. Lastidian also agreed with the latter’s opinion. Our youth, the youngest of all, answered that he who does not have an unclean spirit has God. Mother approved of all opinions, but especially the last one. Navigius was silent, and when I asked him what he thought, he answered that of all the judgments he liked the last one. I should, I thought, also ask Rusticus, who was silent, as it seemed to me, more out of shyness than from difficulty in answering, what his opinion was on such an important subject; he agreed with Trigetius. - So, I know everyone’s opinion about a truly great subject, beyond which nothing should be asked, and nothing can be found, if, of course, we investigate it as calmly and sincerely as we began. But since this would be too much for today, and since there is a kind of immoderation in food for souls, since they pounce on it beyond measure and with greed (for in this case they digest it poorly, which is why there is no less danger for the health of minds than from hunger), then let’s take up this question tomorrow, as if from hand to mouth. Now I ask you to enjoy only what it occurred to me, your servant, to quickly serve at the table and which, if I’m not mistaken, was prepared and baked, as it were, with school honey, like those dishes that are usually served last. Hearing this, everyone seemed to reach out to the dish that had been brought in and urged me to quickly say what it was. “What do you think,” I asked, “this whole question we raised—hasn’t it already been resolved by academics?” As soon as the name was heard, the three to whom this subject was known quickly stood up and seemed to stretch out their hands to help, as happens at a feast when a servant brings food, showing that they did not intend to listen more willingly about anything. Then I continued: - It is obvious that he is not blessed who does not have what he desires, as we proved a little earlier. Meanwhile, no one seeks what he does not want to find; They are constantly looking for truth, therefore, they want to find it. But they don't find her; therefore, they do not have what they desire and therefore are not blessed. But no one is wise except the blessed one; therefore, the academician is not wise. At these words, my interlocutors, as if grasping everything at once, screamed. But Licentius, dwelling on the subject with great attention and caution, was afraid to give his consent and added: I grabbed it along with you, and that’s why I screamed, amazed at this conclusion. But I won’t let anything into my stomach from this, but will save my part for Alypius: let him try this dish with me or convince me why I shouldn’t touch it. “Navigius should have avoided sweets,” I said, “with his damaged spleen.” “On the contrary,” he grinned, “such things will heal me.” I don’t know why, but this twisted and prickly thing that you suggested has, as someone put it about skommed, a sharp-sweet taste, and does not bloat the stomach at all. And therefore, all this, although it stings my palate a little, I can eat with great pleasure. For I do not see how your conclusion could be refuted. “Of course he can’t,” said Trigetius. “That’s why I’m glad that I’ve long lost interest in academics.” I don’t know under what influence of nature or, more accurately, of God, I don’t even know how they should be refuted, but I will be their decisive opponent. “And I,” responded Licentius, “will not leave them yet.” “So,” Trigetius was surprised, “you don’t agree with us?” “And you,” he asked in turn, “do you disagree with Alypius on this?” “I have no doubt,” I said to this, “that Alypius, if he were here, would agree with my conclusion.” For he could not hold that absurd opinion that one can be considered blessed who does not have such spiritual good as he most ardently desires, or that they (the academicians) did not want to find the truth, or that he is wise who is not blessed: for what you were afraid to taste is seasoned with these three provisions, like a cake with honey, flour and nuts. While we, jokingly, seemed to force Licensius to eat his portion, the others, who did not take part in our friendly squabble, but wanted to understand what we were talking about among ourselves, looked at us very sadly. They seemed to me like people who, being at a feast among very hungry and greedily eating comrades, are in no hurry to join them, either due to their solidity, or timidly from shyness. And since I was the host, this state of affairs did not suit me - the inequality at my table alarmed me. I smiled at my mother. She, as if with complete readiness ordering that what was missing from her pantry, said: – Tell us, what kind of people are these academicians and what do they want? When I had briefly and clearly stated the matter so that none of the guests would be left in the dark, she said: “These people are epileptics (this is the common name we call people susceptible to epilepsy),” and with these words she stood up to leave. Then we all began to disperse, being satisfied and rejoicing that the end had come. The next day, also after lunch, but somewhat later than the day before, sitting down in the same place, we resumed our debate. I said: “You came late to the feast, what happened to you, I think, not because the food was not ready yet, but because of your confidence in its smallness: there seemed to you no need to rush to what you could quickly eat.” For it was impossible to think that there were many remains left where so little was found on the very day of the feast. it may be good. But what is prepared for you, neither do I know, nor do you. For there is another who does not cease to serve everyone with all kinds of food; but for the most part we ourselves stop eating, sometimes as a result of ill health, sometimes as a result of satiety, sometimes because of being busy with business, and that this other, being in people, makes them blessed, regarding this yesterday, if I’m not mistaken, we came to a pious and firm agreement among ourselves. Since reason has proven that blessed is he who has God, and none of you opposed this opinion, the question was asked: who, in your opinion, has God? To this question, if I’m not mistaken, three opinions were expressed. Some believed that he who does what is pleasing to God has God; some said that he who lives well has God; finally, according to others, God dwells in those who do not have the spirit called unclean. But maybe by different words you all meant the same thing. For if we pay attention to the first two opinions, then everyone who lives well thereby does what is pleasing to God; and everyone who does what is pleasing to God, therefore lives well: living well means nothing more than doing what is pleasing to God. But maybe you see it differently? When everyone agreed with me, I proposed to consider the third opinion especially, because in the Christian religion the name “unclean spirit,” as far as I understood, is usually used in two ways. On the one hand, it is a spirit that comes from outside, takes possession of the soul and disturbs the senses, exposing people to some kind of demon, and to expel which those with the power are invited to lay hands and do spells, i.e. expel through religious ritual spells. But, on the other hand, every unclean soul in general is called an unclean spirit, i.e. a soul defiled by vices and delusions. “So,” I asked the child, who expressed this opinion, of course, with a lighter and purer spirit, “who, in your opinion, does not have an unclean spirit: the one who does not have the demon, which usually makes people possessed, or the one who cleanses his soul from all vices and sins?” “It seems to me,” he answered, “that he who lives chastely does not have an unclean spirit.” “But,” I asked, “whom do you call chaste: the one who sins nothing, or the one who abstains only from inappropriate cohabitation?” “How,” he answered, “can one be chaste who, while abstaining from inappropriate cohabitation, does not cease to defile himself with other sins?” He is truly chaste who is devoted to God and trusts in Him alone. Having ordered that these words of the youth be written down as they were expressed to him, I said: - Such a person certainly lives well, and whoever lives well is necessarily like that; but maybe it seems different to you? He and everyone else agreed with me. “So this,” I said, “is one of the opinions expressed.” Let me ask you a few more questions: Does God want man to seek God? “Of course,” everyone agreed. – So can we say that the one who seeks God lives badly? “Then answer me the third question: can an unclean spirit seek God?” This was rejected by everyone, with the exception of the somewhat doubtful Navigius, who, however, later agreed with the opinion of the others. “So,” I said, “if the one who seeks God does what is pleasing to God and lives well, and does not have an unclean spirit, and whoever seeks God does not yet have God, then not everyone who lives well, does what is pleasing to God, does not have an unclean spirit and must certainly be considered to have God.” When everyone began to laugh that they were caught by their own concessions, the mother, who had been in amazement for a long time, asked me to unravel and explain to her the conclusion I had made through inference. When I did this, she said: “But no one can reach God if he does not seek God.” “Wonderful,” I answered, “however, the one who only seeks has not yet reached God, even if he lived well.” This means that not everyone who lives well has God. “I think,” she objected, “that no one has God, but whoever lives well is merciful to him, and whoever lives poorly is hostile to him.” “In that case,” I said, “yesterday we in vain agreed that he is blessed who has God.” For, although every person has God, not everyone is blessed. “Merciful God, add,” she said. “Is it enough,” I continued, “that we at least agree that blessed is he to whom God is merciful?” “And I would like to agree,” answered Navigius, “but I’m afraid that you will not draw the conclusion that only the seeker is blessed, especially that academician who yesterday was called, although by the common people and not quite Latin, but, as it seems to me, a very apt word “episic.” For I cannot say that God is hostile to a person who seeks God, and if so, then he will be merciful to him, and the one to whom He is merciful is blessed. Therefore, the one who seeks will also be blessed. But everyone who seeks does not yet have what he desires. Consequently, the person who does not have what he desires will also be blessed; and this seemed absurd to all of us yesterday and we thought that the darkness of the academicians had been dispelled. and therefore Licentius will triumph over us, and, as a prudent doctor, he will prescribe poultices and enemas for the sweets that I so recklessly ate to the detriment of my health. When even his mother smiled at these words, Trigetius said: – I do not agree that God necessarily treats with hostility those to whom he is not merciful; I think there is something in between. “However,” I answered him, “do you agree that this average person, to whom God is neither merciful nor hostile, has God?” When he hesitated to answer, his mother said: “It’s one thing to have God, it’s another thing not to be without God.” “What is better,” I asked, “to have God or not to be without God?” “As far as I understand,” she answered, “my opinion is this: whoever lives well has a merciful God, and whoever lives poorly has a God, but a hostile one.” But whoever only seeks God and has not yet found him, has him neither merciful nor hostile; but he is not without God. “Isn’t that the same,” I asked everyone, “and your opinion?” Everyone agreed. “Then tell me, doesn’t it seem to you that God is merciful to the person whom he benefits?” – Doesn’t God bless the person who seeks him? “So,” I say, “whoever seeks God, God is merciful to him, and everyone to whom God is merciful is blessed.” Therefore, the one who seeks will also be blessed. And whoever seeks does not yet have what he desires. Therefore, the one who does not have what he desires will also be blessed. “To me,” the mother objected, “it does not at all seem blessed to him who does not have what he desires.” “In that case,” I noted, “not everyone is blessed to whom God is merciful.” “If,” she said, “reason demands it, I cannot deny it.” “So,” I concluded, “the following division results: everyone who has already found God and to whom God is merciful is therefore blessed; the one who seeks God, God is merciful to him, but he is not yet blessed; and the one who distances himself from God through vices and sins is not only not blessed, but God is not merciful to him either. When everyone agreed with this, I said: “All this is good, but I’m afraid that you might be swayed by what we already agreed on earlier, namely, that he is unhappy who is not blessed.” From this it will follow that that person is also unhappy who considers God to be merciful to himself, because while he is looking for God, we have not yet called him blessed. Unless, imitating Tullius, who calls the gentlemen who own many estates on earth rich, we will call people who have all sorts of virtues poor! But pay attention: is it as true that everyone who is unhappy is in need as it is true that everyone who is in need is unhappy? For in this case it will also be true that misfortune is nothing other than need - an opinion which, as it might seem to you, I approved when it was expressed. But today we will not discuss this, and therefore I ask you not to disdain to gather at this table tomorrow. When everyone said that they accepted the invitation with complete readiness, we stood up. On the third day of our competition, the morning clouds that had driven us into the baths cleared, and clear and warm weather arrived in the afternoon. We decided to go down to the nearest meadow, and when we found a comfortable place and sat down, we continued the debate interrupted the day before. “For almost everything,” I said, “to which I wanted to gain your consent with my questions, I received consent.” Therefore, now there is very little left to which I think I need to get your answer. Mother said that misfortune is nothing more than need; and we agreed that all those in need are unhappy. But are all the unfortunate people in need? This remains one of the questions that we were unable to resolve yesterday. Meanwhile, if reason proves that this is so, then we can consider that we have found the answer to the question of who is blessed; for such will be the one who is not in need. Because everyone who is not unhappy is blessed. therefore, blessed is he who has no need, if, of course, it can be proven that need is the very misfortune. “Why,” said Trigetius, “from the obvious truth that everyone in need is unhappy, cannot be drawn to the conclusion that everyone who is not in need is blessed?” After all, I remember, we agreed that between the unfortunate and the blessed there is nothing in between. – Don’t you find anything in between the living and the dead? Isn't every person either alive or dead? “I admit,” he answered, “that there is nothing average here either.” But why this question? “And besides,” I said, “I think you also admit that everyone who has been buried for a year is dead.” Of course, he did not deny this. – Does it follow from this that anyone who has not been buried a year or more ago is alive? - This means that from the fact that everyone in need is unhappy, it does not at all follow that everyone who is not in need is blessed; although between the unfortunate and the blessed, as between the living and the dead, nothing in between can be found. Some of them did not understand this immediately, but only after I gave additional explanations and examples in terms that were as clear and simple as possible. Then I said: - So, no one doubts that everyone who is in need is unhappy. The fact that there is something necessary for the body of even the wisest sage cannot cause any objection to you, for it is not the spirit itself that needs this, in which the blessed life rests. He is perfect, and the perfect does not need anything; but if there is something that is necessary for the body, he uses it; if not, the lack of it does not crush him. For everyone who is wise is strong, and everyone who is strong fears nothing. Therefore, the wise man is not afraid of either bodily death or illnesses, the treatment or avoidance of which requires something in which he may be deficient. But he, however, does not stop using it properly if he has it. For the well-known saying of Terence is very true: “it is foolish to allow what you can avoid.” Therefore, as far as possible and decently, he will avoid death and illness, and if he did not avoid it, he would be unhappy, not because it happened to him, but because he did not want to avoid them when he could have avoided them, which is, of course, stupid. So, without avoiding this, he will be unhappy not as a result of enduring such misfortunes, but as a result of stupidity. if he is unable to avoid them, although he tries diligently and decently, then, falling on him, they do not make him unhappy. for another saying of the same comedian is no less true: “Since what you desire is impossible, then desire what is possible.” How can he be unhappy if nothing happens to him against his will? After all, he cannot wish for what, in his opinion, cannot come true. He desires what is certain, that is, when he does something, he does it no other way than according to some precept of virtue and the divine law of wisdom, of which he cannot be deprived in any way. Now pay attention to whether every unfortunate person is in need. What makes it difficult to agree with this opinion is the fact that many are furnished with a great abundance of random things that make everything easy and accessible for them: at their wave, everything that a whim requires appears. But let us imagine someone like Oratus, according to Tullius. Who can say that the orator was in need - he was a rich and pampered man, who lacked neither pleasure nor good and unspoiled health? He had as much as his heart desired, the most profitable estates, and the most pleasant friends, and he used all of this completely in accordance with his physical health; in short, every intention and every desire of his was accompanied by happy success. Unless one of you says that he would like to have more than he had. We don't know this. But for us in this case it is enough to assume that he did not want more than what he had. Do you think he was in need? “I can agree,” answered Licentius, “that he did not want anything, although I don’t know how to allow this in a narrow-minded man, but I am sure that being, as they say, a man of common sense, he was afraid that he would lose all this in one unfortunate moment.” For it should have been obvious to him that everything, no matter how great, depends on chance. “You, Licentius,” I said laughing, “see the obstacle for this man to a blessed life in his common sense.” Because the more insightful he was, the more he saw that he could lose all this; this fear crushed him, and it sufficiently justified the popular saying that a crafty person is sincere in relation to his misfortune. When everyone started smiling, I added: “However, we must look into this more closely, because although he was afraid, he did not need it, and that is precisely what the question is about.” For to need means not to have, and not to be afraid of losing what you have. Meanwhile, he was unhappy because he was afraid, although he was not in need. Therefore, not everyone who is unhappy is in need. This, along with others, was approved by the one whose opinion I defended, but, somewhat hesitatingly, said: “However, I don’t know and don’t yet fully understand how it is possible to separate misfortune from need and vice versa, need from misfortune.” for he, too, was a rich man and abundantly supplied with everything, and, as you say, wanting nothing more, nevertheless, fearing to lose all this, needed wisdom. Wouldn't we call him needy if he needed silver and money when he clearly needed wisdom? At the same time, everyone exclaimed in surprise, and I was incredibly pleased and glad that it was she who expressed the best that I was preparing to offer from the books of philosophers, as something great and last. “Don’t you see,” I said, “that many and varied doctrines are one thing, but a spirit devoted to God is something completely different?” for where did that thing at which we marvel come, if not from God? “Decisively,” Licentius joyfully supported me, “nothing more true and divine than this could be said!” for there is no greater or more disastrous deficiency than the lack of wisdom; and he who needs wisdom may be said to be deprived of everything. “So,” I continued, “poverty of the soul is nothing more than stupidity.” for it is opposite to wisdom and as opposed to death as to life, as a blessed life to an unhappy life, i.e. without anything in between. Just as every person who is not blessed is unhappy, and every person who is not dead is alive, so, obviously, every person who is not stupid is a wise person. From here one can already see that Sergius the orator was unhappy not because he was afraid of losing the well-known gifts of fortune, but because he was stupid. It follows from this: he would have been even more unhappy if he had not been at all afraid for these so random and fluctuating things that he considered blessings. In this case, he would have been more careless not because of spiritual courage, but because of mental lethargy, an unfortunate person immersed in the deepest stupidity. But if everyone who is deprived of wisdom suffers great poverty, and everyone who has wisdom does not need anything, then it naturally follows that stupidity is poverty. And just as every fool is an unhappy person, so every unhappy person is a fool. So, it is undeniable that just as every poverty is misfortune, so every misfortune is poverty. When Trigetius said that he did not quite understand the conclusion, I asked him: – What do we agree on about this argument? “That,” he answered, “is what he needs who does not have wisdom.” “What does it mean,” I asked, “to not have wisdom?” Doesn't this mean being stupid? - Therefore, to have poverty is nothing more than to have stupidity. However, I don’t know how one can say: “he has poverty” or “he has stupidity.” It is something as if we were to say of a place without light that it has darkness, which means nothing more than that it has no light. For to be dark does not mean that the darkness seemed to come or go, but to be deprived of light, just as to be deprived of clothing means the same as to be naked. For as clothing approaches, nakedness does not flee like some moving object. Thus, poverty is the name of lack, not possession. Therefore, in order to express, as far as possible, his thought, it is said: “he has poverty,” i.e. as if: “he has lack.” So, if it has been proven that stupidity is the most genuine and undeniable poverty, then see if the task we have set has not already been solved. There remained a doubt between us as to whether we mean poverty when we talk about misfortune. Meanwhile, we have given the reason why stupidity is correctly called poverty. So, since every stupid person is an unhappy person, and every unhappy person is a stupid person, it is necessary to admit that not only is the needy person unhappy, but also that every unhappy person is a needy person. But if from the fact that everyone who is stupid is unhappy, and everyone who is unhappy is stupid, the conclusion is drawn that stupidity is misfortune, then why not from the fact that every unfortunate person is in need, we can draw the conclusion that unhappiness is nothing more than poverty? When everyone agreed on this, I said: – Now we should consider who does not tolerate poverty, for he will be wise and blessed. Poverty is stupidity, and the name of poverty usually denotes some kind of infertility and lack. Please delve deeper into the care with which ancient people composed all or, as is obvious, some words, especially for such subjects, the knowledge of which is most necessary. You agreed that every stupid person is in need, and everyone who needs is stupid; I think that you also agree that a stupid spirit is a vicious spirit and that all the vices of the spirit are contained in one name - “stupidity.” On the first day of our competition, we said that debauchery was so named because it represents something negative and that its opposite, abstinence, received its name from the fruit. In these two opposites, i.e. in abstinence and debauchery, being and non-being appear especially clearly. What do we now consider to be the opposite of the poverty we are talking about? When the others were somewhat hesitant to answer, Trigetius said: – I would say wealth; but I see that poverty is the opposite of it. “There is some closeness,” I noted, “for poverty and scarcity are usually taken to be one and the same thing.” However, another word should be found so that the better side does not remain with one name - “wealth”, while the side represented by poverty and meagerness is replete with defining words. For nothing can be more absurd than the poverty of words on the very side that is opposite to poverty. “If the word “fullness” is applicable,” said Licentius, “then it seems to me the exact opposite of poverty.” “Maybe later,” I said, “we’ll talk about the word in more detail.” But when seeking the truth, this is not what we should strive for. Although Sallust, who is very picky in his words, contrasts sufficiency with poverty, I nevertheless contrast it with fullness. But in the present case we will be afraid of grammarians; otherwise we would have to fear punishment for the careless use of words from those who left their property for us to use. When everyone laughed at these words, I added: - Since I decided not to neglect, when you are deep in God, your minds, as some kind of oracles, I invite you to pay attention to what this name means - “fullness”, for I think there is nothing more consistent with the truth. So, fullness and poverty are opposite to each other; and here, just as in debauchery and abstinence, the same ideas about being and non-being appear. And if poverty is stupidity itself, then fullness will be wisdom. Not without reason, many have called temperance the mother of all virtues. In agreement with them, Tullius in one popular speech says: “Let everyone understand as he wants; in my opinion, abstinence, i.e. moderation and balance are the greatest virtues." And this is already quite scientific. For he meant fruit, i.e. what we call existing, as opposed to non-existent. But due to the popular way of expression, in which abstinence is called frugality, he explained his thought by adding the words moderation and balance. We need to take a closer look at these two terms. Moderation is so named from the measure of balance - from weight. And where there is measure and weight, there is nothing too big or too small. So fullness, which we contrasted with poverty, is a much better term than if we used the word excess. Because by excess we mean excess and, as it were, the spilling of something too overflowing. When there is more of this than is needed, then measure is desirable: and too much needs measure. Therefore, extreme excess is not alien to scarcity: both what is more and what is less are equally alien to measure. If we consider the expression “secure state”, then in it we will find the concept of measure. For a secured state is called from provision. and how can that which is excessive be provided for, when it often causes more trouble than the small? So, everything that is small is equal, and everything that is excessive, because it needs moderation, falls into poverty. The measure of the spirit is wisdom. Since none of you denies that wisdom is the opposite of stupidity, and stupidity is poverty, and fullness is the opposite of poverty, then wisdom will be fullness. In fullness, the measure, therefore, the measure of the spirit lies in wisdom. Hence this famous and not in vain so extolled rule of life: “Nothing in excess.” At the very beginning of this contest, we said that if we find that misfortune is nothing other than poverty, then we admit that blessed is he who does not tolerate poverty. It has now been found; therefore, to be blessed means nothing more than not tolerating poverty, i.e. be wise. If you ask what wisdom is (for it too is subject to discovery and investigation by reason, as far as this is possible at the present time), then it is the measure of the spirit, i.e. that by which the spirit keeps itself in balance, so as not to expand too much and not contract below fullness. And it expands in luxury, in dominance, in pride and other similar things, with which the souls of immoderate and unhappy people think to gain joy and power. On the contrary, it is reduced in dishonesty, fear, sadness, greed and other similar things, in which the unfortunate believe human misfortune. But when he contemplates the truth he has acquired, when, to use the expression of this youth, he holds on to it, and, not disturbed by any vanity, ceases to turn to the falsity of statues, the load of which is overthrown by the power of God, then he is not afraid of immoderation, no poverty, no misfortune. So, everyone who has his own measure, i.e. wisdom, blessed What kind of wisdom should be called wisdom if not the wisdom of God? By divine testimony we know that the Son of God is nothing other than the Wisdom of God (1 Cor 1.24), and this Son of God is truly God. Therefore, everyone who has God is blessed, a position with which we agreed before when we began this feast of ours. But what is wisdom, in your opinion, if not truth? for this too is said: “I am... the truth” (John 14.6). Truth, in order to be truth, receives its existence from some highest measure, from which it originates and to which, complete, it returns. For the highest measure itself, no other measure is required; for if the highest measure is measured by the highest measure, then it is measured by itself. But it is necessary that the highest measure should also be a true measure, so that, just as truth is born from measure, so measure is recognized by truth. Who is the son of God? said: true. Who is he, if not the highest measure? So, whoever comes to the highest degree through the truth is blessed, and this means having God in the soul, i.e. enjoy God. Everything else, although from God, is without God. Finally, from the very source of truth comes a certain exhortation that encourages us to remember God, to seek Him and to thirst for Him passionately, without any disgust. This illumination to our inner eyes comes from this mysterious sun. Everything true that we say comes from Him, even in the case when we are still afraid to boldly use and look at everything with our either unhealthy or newly opened eyes. And it is obvious that it is nothing other than God, whose perfection is not diminished by any rebirth. Complete and everything in Him is perfect, and at the same time this is omnipotent God. But while we are only looking, but from the very source, from the very - to use a well-known expression - fullness is not yet saturated, we must admit that we have not yet reached our measure; and therefore, although we use God’s help, we are not yet wise and blessed. So, complete spiritual satiety, a real blessed life, consists in piously and completely knowing who leads you to the truth, what truth you feed on, through which you unite with the highest measure. These three, by eliminating the vanity of various superstitions, reveal to the discerning one God and one essence. At the same time, the mother, recalling the words that were deeply engraved in her memory and, as if awakening in her faith, cheerfully said the famous verse of our high priest Ambrose: “Look, O Trinity, upon those who pray!” and added: – Without any doubt, a blessed life is a perfect life, and striving for it, we must know in advance that we can achieve it only with firm faith, living hope, and fiery love. “So,” I said, “compliance with the measure requires us to interrupt our feast for several days.” Therefore, I offer, to the best of my ability, thanks to the highest and true God the Father, Lord and Liberator of souls. And then - I thank you, who, having unanimously accepted the invitation, showered me with many gifts. For you brought so much to our speech that I cannot help but admit that I am incredibly glad to have my guests. When everyone rejoiced and praised God, Trigetius said: – How I would like to taste this every day! “In everything,” I answered, “you must preserve and love moderation, and especially if you strive with all your soul for God.” After these words, since the competition was over, we parted. You might be interested in: