Against academics

The treatise “Against the Academicians” (3 books) was written by Bl. Aurelius Augustine in 386-391. in Cassiciac (probably the current city of Cassago Brianza in Italy). Belongs to a group of works in which the influence of Neoplatonism is noticeable. The work is constructed in the form of a dialogue. Condemning the skepticism of the academician (Platonist), the author leads him to true philosophy - to Christianity. Blzh. Augustine proves that man is not denied the knowledge of truth. Christ, the incarnate Mind, has already shown people the way that denies skepticism. *The title of the essay in Latin is Contra Academicos. Contents Book 1 Preface Competition first Competition second Competition third Conclusion Book 2 Competition first Competition second Competition third Book 3 Competition first Competition second 1. Oh, if only, Romanian, virtue could demand a worthy person from the fortune opposing it, and even so that the latter would not again take him away from her. Then, undoubtedly, virtue would have laid its hand on you long ago, would have proclaimed you a free person and would have brought you into the possession of the most trustworthy property, so as not to allow you to servile even before a happy accident. But whether because of our sins, or because of natural necessity, it is so arranged that the divine spirit inherent in mortals in no way enters the harbor of wisdom, where no breath of fortune would disturb it - neither adverse nor favorable, unless, of course, fortune itself brings it into this harbor (certainly happy, although at times seemingly unhappy). Therefore, we have no choice but prayers for you, with which we would ask, if we can, from God who cares about this, so that he returns you to himself; for in this way He will easily return you to us and will allow your mind, which for a long time has barely had anything to breathe, to finally get out into the air of true freedom. After all, perhaps what we usually call fortune is governed by some hidden command, and chance in events is considered to be nothing more than something, the basis and cause of which is simply unknown to us, and nothing beneficial or disadvantageous happens in particular that would not be agreed upon and correlated with the General. This idea, expressed in the main provisions of the most fruitful teachings and so difficult to comprehend by uninitiated people, is what philosophy promises to prove to its true lovers, to the study of which I invite you. Therefore, if many things happen to you that are unworthy of your spirit, do not rush to despise yourself. As long as divine providence extends to us as well—which should not be doubted—then, believe me, if something happens to you, then that’s how it should happen. So, when you, with such natural properties of yours, which I always marveled at, from the first days of your youth, which, alas, was not supported by reason, entered a slippery path into human life, overflowing with all sorts of delusions, a whirlpool of wealth embraced you and began to absorb in the seductive pools that age and spirit that joyfully followed everything that seemed beautiful and honest; and only those breaths of fortune, which are considered misfortunes, rescued you from there, almost drowned. After all, if you, when you started bear fights and other spectacles never seen by our citizens, were always greeted by the deafening applause of the theater; if the friendly and unanimous voices of fools, whose number is immeasurable, extolled you to the skies; if no one dared to be your enemy; if the municipal tables declared you with their brass letters as the patron not only of their citizens, but also of the inhabitants of neighboring districts, statues would be erected to you, honors would flow, degrees of power would be given to you that exceed the amount of municipal power, rich tables would be laid for daily feasts; if everyone who needs something, and even simply wants it for pleasure, would ask without refusal and receive without refusal, and much would be distributed to those who do not ask; if the economy, carefully and conscientiously conducted by your managers, would turn out to be sufficient and ready to satisfy your expenses, and you yourself, meanwhile, would spend your life in the most elegant buildings, in the luxury of baths, in games that do not stain your honor, on hunts, at feasts, you would be known on the lips of clients, on the lips of citizens, on the lips, finally, of entire nations as the most humane, the most generous, the most beautiful and the happiest, as he would have been - who then would dare to remind you, Romanian, of another blessed life, which, in fact, is the only blessed one? Who, I ask? Who could convince you that you were not only not happy, but, on the contrary, that you were even more pitiful the less you seemed like that to yourself? Now, thanks to such and such misfortunes you have endured, how easy it has become to admonish you! Do we now need to look far for examples of how fickle, fragile and fraught with all sorts of disasters are all that mortals consider good? - after all, to a certain extent, you have experienced this yourself so well that by your example we can convince others! So, those virtues of yours, by virtue of which you always strived for the beautiful and honest, wanted to be generous and just rather than rich and powerful, never succumbed to disasters and abominations - that same, I say, divine thing that was lulled into sleep in you, I don’t know by what sleep of this life, by what lethargy, was awakened again by mysterious providence with various and severe shocks. Wake up, wake up, I beg you! Believe me, you will still be grateful to fate for the fact that it did not shower you with gifts of prosperity, for which many simpletons are so greedy, gifts with which I myself was almost seduced, and only mental pain could force me to flee from a way of life open to all winds and seek refuge in the depths of philosophy. It is she who now nourishes and warms me in that very peace that we so badly desired. It was she who freed me from that superstition into which I so recklessly carried you along with me, my Romanian. For this is what she teaches, and rightly teaches, not to honor anything that is seen with the eyes of mortals. It is she who promises to show with all the clarity the truest and most mysterious God, and now, now, as it were, she is drawing His image in a light fog. Our Licensius also spent time with me in diligent studies of philosophy. From youthful seductions and pleasures, he turned entirely to her, so it is not without reason that I decide to offer him to emulate his father. For if against anyone, then certainly not against philosophy, any age will complain for being removed from its breasts. And in order to encourage you to take it up more willingly (although I know your thirst well), I decided, however, to first send you only a small piece to try, in the hope that this piece will be very pleasant to you and, so to speak, will whet your appetite. I am sending you a record of the competitions that Trigetius and Licentius conducted between themselves. For the first young man, as much as he was attracted to the service, promising him supposedly liberation from the boredom of learning, returned to us as an ardent and tireless zealot of great and respectable knowledge. So, a few days after we began to live in the village, when, having disposed and inspired them to study, I saw them even more than I had hoped, ready for these studies and passionately striving for them, then I wanted to test what they could do at their age, especially since Cicero’s “Hortensius” seemed to have already familiarized them with philosophy to a significant extent. Having hired a clerk so that our work would not be scattered to the wind, I did not allow anything to perish. In this book you will read about how much our case was argued and what their opinions were, as well as what are the opinions of me and Alypius. 2. So, when, at my invitation, we all got together as soon as the opportunity presented itself, I said: – Do you doubt that we should know the truth? “Not at all,” answered Trigetius, and the others expressed their approval to him with signs. “And if,” I say, “we can be blessed without knowing the truth: do you consider knowledge of the truth necessary?” “I believe that it is more convenient for me to be the judge in this matter.” I still have a long way to go to the city, and therefore I should be relieved of the obligation to take one side or the other, since I can transfer the function of a judge to someone else more easily than the duty of a defender of one side or another. So don't expect anything from me for either side. When everyone agreed, I repeated my question. “To be blessed,” answered Trigetius, “we really desire; and if we can achieve this without truth, then there is no need to look for it. How is it so, I say, don’t you think that we can really be blissful away from the truth? – We can, if we look for the truth. When I began to insistently demand the opinions of others, Navigius replied: “I think I’m inclined to side with Licencius.” Perhaps, in fact, the bliss of life lies in tirelessly exploring the truth about Trigetius said: “Define what, in your opinion, a blissful life consists of, so that, based on this, I can figure out what to answer.” “Do you really think,” I say, “that living blissfully means anything other than living according to the best that is in a person?” “I will not,” he answered, “waste words: I believe that you must determine to me that this is the best.” “Who,” I say, “will doubt that the best in a person is that part of his soul that dominates in him and to which everything else in a person must obey? And so that you do not require another definition, I will immediately explain: such a part can be called mind or reason. If you do not agree with this, try to formulate for yourself what a blissful life or the best in a person is. Trigetius did not argue. “In that case,” I continued, “let’s return to our subject.” Do you imagine that you can live blissfully without finding the truth, if only you look for it? “I don’t imagine this at all,” answers Trigetius, “but I didn’t insist on it.” “What do you think,” I ask others, “what do you think?” - It seems to me that it is possible, because those of our ancestors, whom we know as wise and blessed people, Lived with dignity and bliss only because they were looking for the truth. – Thank you for choosing me as a judge along with Alypiy, whom, I admit, I began to envy. So, since it seems to one of you that a blessed life can be achieved only by the study of truth, and to the other - only by its acquisition, Navigius shortly before declared that he wants to go over to your side, Licencius, then I look forward to hearing how you will defend your opinions! For this subject is of enormous importance and deserves the most careful consideration. “If this is such a serious subject,” noted Licencius, “then its study requires very wise men.” “Don’t look,” I say, “and especially in this city, for something that is generally difficult to find these days.” It’s better to explain the meaning of what you said, which I believe was not said at random, and answer on what basis you think this way. As for your remark, I think that even small people can grow when they study great things. - Since you, I see, persistently encourage us to enter into a competition, then let me ask why the one who seeks the truth could not be blessed, even if he does not find it? “And because,” Trigetius answered for me, “we expect perfection and wisdom in everything from the blessed one.” Anyone who is still searching is imperfect. Therefore, I absolutely refuse to understand why you make someone like this look blessed. Here Licentius decided to refer to the authority of his ancestors, to which Trigetius wisely objected, saying that ancestors are different from each other. - Do you think Carneades is wise? “I’m not a Greek,” answers Trigetius, “and I don’t know what your Carneades was like.” - Okay, in that case, what do you think about our famous Cicero? – After a long silence, Trigetius agreed that Cicero was wise. “So,” he says, “does his opinion on this subject have any weight for you?” - So listen if you forgot what he said. Our Cicero believed that blessed is he who explores the truth, even if he is not able to discover it. – Where, if you please, did you read this? “Don’t you know that Cicero especially insisted that there is no reliable sensory perception, and if this is so, then the wise man has no choice but to carefully search for the truth, since if he took on faith what is unknown, he would never be able to get rid of delusions, and this is the greatest mistake on the part of the wise man!” Therefore: if the wise should be considered blessed, and the real destiny of wisdom is the investigation of truth, then this research alone can already make life blissful. – Is it possible to take back a thoughtlessly made concession? Here I already noticed that this is not allowed only in cases where disputes are started not out of a desire to find the truth, but out of childish frivolity. Considering the nature of the dispute, as well as the fact that the disputants are at the stage of education and training, I not only allow this, but also insist that it be taken as a rule to return to the discussion and revision of what was not fully considered concessions. Licencius agreed that the real victory in philosophy would not be winning an argument, but finding truth and truth. – You must agree that it is not my turn yet to fulfill the duties I have assumed. Meanwhile, the previously planned trip forces me to interrupt their departure. Therefore, let the one who, together with me, assumed the duties of a judge, until my return, fulfill these duties for me, having, as it were, doubled power, for, as I see, the dispute will drag on for a long time. When Alypius had left, Licencius turned to Trigetius: - Tell me, what did you make a rash concession? – I hastened to agree that Cicero was wise. “How,” Licentius was amazed, “wasn’t Cicero wise?” Cicero is the beginning and end of all Latin philosophy! “Even if I agree that he was wise,” Trigetius calmly objected, “even then I will not approve of everything from him.” - What else? - exclaimed the first, - after all, by rejecting the named position, you will have to reject much more! “Not at all,” answered the second, “for example, I am ready to assert that Cicero only misunderstood this.” I believe that the only important thing for you will be how solid my evidence is in favor of what I intend to assert. “Come on,” Licentius waved his hand, “continue.” Do I dare to object to someone to whom Cicero is not a decree! – I want to draw the attention of our judge to how he himself previously defined the blessed life. He said that blessed is he who lives in that part of his soul which should command all the rest. I ask you, Licentius, to agree with me in this (for in the name of the freedom that philosophy promises us, I have long since cast off authority) that he who only seeks the truth is not yet perfect. After thinking about it, Licencius refused to give in. – Please explain why? How can a person be perfect and, at the same time, still only seek the truth? Licencius recognized that those who do not achieve this goal are not perfect. But since the truth is known only by God and, perhaps, by those human souls who have already left the body, then the goal of man is to seek the truth in a perfect way; It is precisely such a person that we will call perfect, although, of course, perfect as a person. - So, a person cannot be blessed. And how could he, when he is unable to achieve what he strives for in every possible way? But a person can live blissfully if he is guided by that part of the soul that should dominate in him. And, therefore, he can find the truth. Or let him restrain himself and not strive for the truth, so as not to be unhappy without finding it! “But this is precisely what constitutes the bliss of man,” Licentius objected, “to seek the truth in a perfect way.” This means reaching a goal beyond which you cannot go. Therefore, one who does not seek it too diligently does not achieve the human goal. The one who applies as much effort to the search for truth as he can and should apply is blessed, even if he does not find it, since he has fulfilled his duty. If it is impossible to discover the truth, it is only because it is impossible in principle. Finally, if a person needs to be either blessed or unhappy, then how can one be considered unhappy who works day and night to find the truth? This means that he should be considered blessed. Further, such a definition, I think, is useful for me. For if blessed (and he is truly blessed!) is the one who lives by that part of the soul which is fit to command the rest, and this part is called reason, then, I ask, does he really not live by reason who perfectly seeks the truth? If this is an absurdity, then why cannot one who only explores the truth be called blessed? “It seems to me,” objected Trigetius, “that he who is mistaken does not live by reason, and certainly not blessed.” Anyone who always seeks and always does not find is mistaken. You always want to prove one of two things: either that a deluded person can be blessed, or that he who never finds what he is looking for is not deluded. - The blessed one cannot be mistaken. The one who seeks is not mistaken, since he seeks in a perfect way so as not to be mistaken. “Perhaps this is so, but he just doesn’t find it, and, therefore, he is mistaken.” You imagined that it is enough for him to want not to be mistaken, and he will immediately stop being mistaken. But one can be mistaken even unwittingly; moreover, one usually gets mistaken involuntarily! This is where I decided to intervene: “You should,” I say, “define what delusion is.” Then it will be easier for you to define the boundaries of your dispute. “I,” answered Licentius, “are not capable of any definitions, although it is easier to define an error than to get rid of it.” “And I,” said the other, “perhaps I’ll determine it.” It’s easier for me to do this, but not because of my abilities, but because of the correctness of the position I am defending. To be mistaken means to always seek and never find! “If I,” noted Licencius, “were able to refute this definition, I would consider my opinion reliably protected.” But, since either this subject is difficult in itself, or it seems so to me, I will ask you to postpone the question until tomorrow. I decided that he should give in, the others did not object, and we went for a walk. In the evening they were about to resume their argument again, but I interrupted it and persuaded them to leave everything for the morning and go to the baths today. 4. When we sat down the next day, I said: - Continue what you started yesterday. – If I’m not mistaken, we postponed the dispute at my request, since it was very difficult for me to determine the error. “That’s right,” I say, “you’re right, and I sincerely wish that this would be a good omen for you for everything that follows.” “So, listen,” he said, “what I would have said yesterday if you had not interrupted the argument: error, in my opinion, is the affirmation of a lie accepted as truth.” Anyone who believes that the truth should always be sought will never fall into it. After all, one who does not assert anything at all will not assert a lie. Therefore, he cannot be mistaken, but he can be blessed very easily. In order not to go far for examples, I will say: if we ourselves could spend every day the same way as yesterday, then we could well be considered blessed, for we spent time in great peace of heart, freeing the spirit from all bodily dirt and from the fire of passions, giving, as far as possible to a person, occupation of the mind, i.e. we lived precisely that divine part of the soul, in which, according to the definition we established yesterday, lies a blessed life, although, as I think, we They didn’t find anything, they just searched. So, a blessed life can be achieved by a person only by exploring the truth, even if this truth cannot be discovered at all. Notice how easily your definition is eliminated by a general concept! You said that to be mistaken means to always seek, but never find. But imagine that someone is not looking for anything, but, let us point out, due to his blindness, in broad daylight he believes that night has fallen. Why do you think he is not mistaken? And, mind you, these kinds of misconceptions are the most common; they do not fall under your definition. Here's another example. Someone, let’s say, wants to get to Alexandria, knows the shortest route there and goes this way. He's not deluded, is he? But on the way he encounters various obstacles, the journey drags on and he dies on the way. Wasn't he always searching and never finding, yet where did he go wrong? “He didn’t always search,” Trigetius objected. “That’s right,” answered Licentius, “your truth.” But that is precisely why your definition is no good. I didn’t say that blessed is the one who always seeks the truth. Yes, this is impossible; firstly, because a person does not always exist; secondly, he cannot, as soon as he was born, immediately go in search of the truth. And if you think that the expression “always” should be used in the event that he does not allow a single minute of time to be lost since he can already search, then you should remember the traveler to Alexandria. Imagine that someone, from the very time his age or occupation allowed him to set out on a journey, set out on the said journey, and, although he never lost his way, died before reaching his goal. You will be mistaken in believing that he was mistaken, although he did not find what he devoted all the time possible to searching for. Thus, the one who perfectly seeks the truth, even if he does not find it, is not mistaken, and is blessed because he lives in accordance with reason. I consider your definition to be refuted and I ask, do you really think our dispute has not yet been resolved? 5. To this Trigetius said: – Do you agree that wisdom is the straight path of life? Licencius agreed, but first asked to define what wisdom is. – Does it seem to you that the question itself is not sufficiently defined? You even agreed with what I wanted. If I'm not mistaken, the straight path of life is called wisdom. “Nothing seems as funny to me as such a definition.” “Perhaps,” said Trigetius, “this is funny, but I would ask you to think carefully before laughing, for there is nothing more shameful than laughter, which itself deserves ridicule.” “Okay,” Licentius agreed, “we’ll wait with laughter.” Then answer me this: do you admit that death is the opposite of life? Trigetius admitted. – Isn’t the path of life the same path that should be followed in order to avoid death? Trigetius admitted this too. “So, if a traveler follows a straight path because he heard that the forests are full of robbers and it is simply dangerous to turn aside, then does it really follow from this alone that this traveler is a sage? I agreed that, although wisdom is such a path, it is still not the only one - wisdom. And, since the definition should not include anything alien to the subject of the definition, I asked to try again to define what wisdom is. Trigetius was silent for a long time, and then said: – Let me define it again: wisdom is the direct path leading to the truth. “And this,” Licentius objected, “is easily refuted.” Doesn’t Virgil’s mother tell Aeneas: “Just go, and wherever the path leads you, direct your step”? Following this path, he reaches where it is said, that is, to the truth. Insist, if you like, that where he placed his foot can be considered wisdom. However, I am committing stupidity by trying to refute this definition of yours, since it perfectly confirms my opinion. For you did not call the truth itself wisdom, but the path leading to It. Therefore, the one who uses this path makes full use of wisdom; the one who uses wisdom is necessarily wise. So, the wise one will be the one who perfectly seeks the truth, even if he has not achieved this truth, since by the path leading to the truth, in my opinion, one should understand precisely the investigation of the truth. Further, I maintain that a sage cannot be unhappy. Every person is either unhappy or blessed. Consequently, it is not only the discovery that makes one blessed, but the mere exploration of the truth. Then Trigetius, laughing, said: - Serves me right, since I open up so trustingly to my opponent! You know, I’m not very good at definitions. However, what would happen if I myself began to ask you to define something, and then, pretending that I did not understand anything, began to insist on defining the words included in the first definition, then in the second, and so on endlessly? What is seemingly difficult about defining the concept of “wisdom”? However, I don’t know why, as soon as this concept seems to emerge from the harbor of our mind, it immediately meets with a barrage of all kinds of censures. And, therefore, either let’s abandon the definition of wisdom altogether, or let our judge take it under his protection. Seeing that night was approaching, and also taking into account the fact that a new question was already arising, I decided to postpone the dispute for another time. It should be noted here that we began our discussions late in the evening, since we spent most of the day managing the housework, and then studying the first book of Virgil. 6. As soon as it was dawn, we immediately began to continue the work. I said: “You, Trigetius, asked yesterday that I leave the duties of a judge and take wisdom under protection, as if any of you were its opponent or, by defending it, thereby causing damage to it!” And, meanwhile, you both strive for it, although you can’t agree on its definition. Further, even if you consider yourself incompetent in defining wisdom, this does not mean that you should give up defending your opinion. Therefore, all that I intend to do is to give my definition of wisdom, which, however, is not even mine, and is not new, but belongs to the men of antiquity. I'm surprised you didn't think of it yourself. After all, this is not the first time you have heard that wisdom is the knowledge of human and divine things. Here Licencius, who, it seemed to me, would have to think for a long time, immediately picked up: “In that case, I would like to ask why we don’t call wise that well-known libertine who is so eager for women of certain behavior?” I mean Albicerius from Carthage, who for many years answered everyone’s questions and, remember, how successful these answers were and how accurate! I could give many examples, but you yourself know them very well. Wasn’t it you, venerable judge, who helped him find the missing cochlear, and when your servant, who was carrying him money, stole on the way, it was Albitcerius, who realized what he had done (although he didn’t know how much money you gave him), caught the thief and forced him to return everything in full. From you, we heard the story told to you by the many-wise Flactian, about how, having agreed on the purchase of an estate, he asked our soothsayer about his plans (which he kept secret), and Albitcerius, without hesitating for a second, immediately told not only about the decision made by Flactian, but even mentioned the name of the estate, so complex and absurd that the buyer himself could not remember it. You and I know many more examples of this kind, and therefore I ask: were the things that Albizeria was asked about really not human things? And is it possible that without knowledge of divine things he could answer so accurately and truly? And if so, then Albitcerius was wise, if, of course, we accept the definition that wisdom is knowledge of human and divine things. 7. To this Trigetius replied: – I do not call knowledge that the one who claims it is sometimes deceived. For knowledge consists not only in the understanding of things, but in such an understanding in which there is no room for any error or hesitation. Therefore, those philosophers are right who claim that knowledge is inherent in the wise, who, in addition to direct perception, also contain in themselves images of what they contemplate and follow. The one you cited as an example, as we all know, was often mistaken. How can I call him knowledgeable when he sometimes lied, but I would not call him knowledgeable even when he was always right, but spoke the truth hesitantly. What I have said applies to all interpreters, astrologers and seers. Or perhaps you can give at least one example that would refute me? I will keep silent about the prophets, for they did not prophesy with their own understanding. Further, regarding your assertion that human things are things that belong to people, answer, do you consider anything to be ours that chance can give or take away from us? And when you talk about knowledge of human things, do you mean knowledge about your own and other people's property, estates, money, etc.? Or perhaps true knowledge of human things is knowledge of the light of prudence, the beauty of temperance, the strength of courage, the holiness of justice? After all, this is exactly what we, without fear of any fortune, can call ours. And if Albitserius, whom you mentioned, had precisely this knowledge, then, believe me, he would never have lived so intemperately and outrageously. As for his guesses, it is possible that if anything comes to our minds or is retained in our memory, it can also be sensed by certain despicable airy beings, who are called demons and who, perhaps, surpass us in the acuteness and subtlety of perceptions, but, I am convinced, are inferior in reason. How this all happens is not given to us to understand, but, wondering, say, a bee, whose incomprehensible instinct for us invariably leads it to honey, we still do not put it above ourselves and do not even compare it with ourselves. 8. Then, if divine things, and everyone agrees with this, are better and more sacred than human things, then how could one comprehend these things who did not even know what they were? So, Albitcerius was not involved in the knowledge of either human or divine things, and by his example you are trying in vain to undermine our definition. Finally, if we must consider insignificant and despise everything except things divine and human, then tell me, in what things does this sage of yours seek the truth? “In the divine,” answered Licentius, “since virtue, although it is in man, is undoubtedly divine. - So Albitserius already knew those things that your sage is always looking for? - Yes, he knew divine things, but not those that the sage seeks. For who would seriously believe that a wise man can practice fortune-telling? Therefore your definition is not entirely correct. – I will not defend this definition, because it was not I who expressed it. From you I want to hear an answer to the following: do you believe that Albitcerius knew the truth? - So, you knew better than your sage? “In no way,” replied Licentius, “for the truth that the wise man seeks can never be comprehended not only by the extravagant sorcerer, but also by the wise man himself, while he still lives in this body.” But this truth itself is such that it is better to look for it and not find it, than to find something else. “To cope with such delights,” says Trigetius, “I am forced to resort to the help of a definition.” If the previous definition seemed incorrect to you because it covers more than it should, then I will try to clarify it: wisdom is the knowledge of human and divine things, but only those that relate to the blessed life. “There is wisdom there too,” Licentius objected, “but not just one, and if the previous definition seems to capture someone else’s, then this also misses its own.” The first can be called greedy, and the second - stupid. For wisdom (I will try to give my own definition) is not only knowledge, but also a careful study of human and divine things related to the blessed life. And if you wish to divide this definition into parts, then the part that speaks of knowledge refers to God, and the part that speaks of research refers to man. With that wisdom is God blessed, and with this wisdom is man. “It turns out,” said Trigetius, “your sage should be pitied, for he is wasting his work in vain!” “Why in vain,” observed Licentius, “when he seeks with such benefit?” After all, it is only because he seeks that he is wise, and the wiser he is, the more blessed, since more and more he frees his mind from bodily snares on his way and, concentrating in himself, does not allow himself to be tormented by various lusts, but always in calm contemplation turns to himself and to God, so that here, too, wisely take advantage of the bliss that we recognized above, and on the last day of life be prepared to receive what he especially strived for and, having experienced in to the fullest extent of human bliss, to enjoy according to merit and divine bliss. 9 . Here, I see, Trigetius thought for a long time, and I say: “I am sure that, upon reflection, Trigetius will find many arguments against any of your positions.” Judge for yourself: we are talking about a blessed life, but a blessed person must necessarily be wise, since stupidity (in which even fools will agree with us) is misfortune. Trigetius declared that a wise person must be perfect, and one who is still searching for the truth cannot be considered such. This means that the seeker is not yet blessed. When you tried to refer to the greatness of authority, he at first hesitated in front of the name of Cicero, but immediately recovered and, showing the nobility of spiritual freedom, regained his lost position and asked whether you consider someone who is still searching to be perfect. His train of thought was obvious: if you agree with this, he will again return to the very beginning and try to prove that the person who builds his life according to the laws of reason is perfect, from which he will conclude that only the perfect can be blessed. You, however, noticed the trap and called the thorough one perfect, that is, the perfect investigator of the truth. Thus, you began to defend yourself with the definition of Trigetius, according to which the life of the one who lives according to the laws of reason is blessed. Having lost your initial support, as if deprived of refuge, you had completely lost the argument, but, having received a temporary respite, you decided to change tactics and defend yourself with the same thing as your favorite academicians, whose opinion you defend, namely, the definition of error. Then you moved on to the definition of wisdom, and your arguments were so cunning and insidious that, probably, even your assistant Albitcerius would not have been able to unravel and refute them. Trigetius, while remaining vigilant, managed to resist them so convincingly that it seemed that he would have completely destroyed you if you had not, in conclusion, supported yourself with a new definition, according to which human wisdom consists in the investigation of truth, which leads to peace of mind, giving rise to a blessed life. Whether he responds to this or not is his business; I believe that we have already dealt with this issue enough and therefore I will try to close it with a few words. Having decided to encourage you to explore the truth, I wanted to first find out whether you value it highly. The high respect for her expressed by all participants in the competition cannot but please me, your mentor. After all, if we want to be blessed, we must either know the truth, or (as Licensius defines it) carefully examine it. And this means that from now on truth will be the main subject of Our aspirations. With this we will conclude our debate and, having written it down, we will send it to your father, Licentius, whom I sincerely wish to win over to the study of philosophy. I hope that after reading this letter, from which he learns that his son has succeeded so much in it, he himself will be inflamed for this kind of activity. You, Licencius, since you like academicians so much, prepare stronger arguments for their defense, because next time I intend to take them seriously. Then we were informed that lunch was ready, and we hurried to the table. 1. If from the absolutely correct statement that a person who is not engaged in science and is not interested in knowing the truth cannot be wise, it necessarily followed that one who seeks the truth certainly finds it, then, of course, all the lies of the academicians, their stubbornness and willfulness, and, sometimes, as it seems to me, sincere errors characteristic of their era, would have been buried along with their time, along with the bodies of the same Carneades and Cicero. But, whether as a result of various everyday worries (so well known to you, Romanian), or some kind of mental numbness, or because of recklessness, and perhaps despairing of finding the truth (after all, the flicker of wisdom is not as easily seen by the minds as this light is seen by the eyes), or, finally, due to the general delusion of peoples, following which people, being in a false belief about the truth they allegedly found, and do not search for it carefully - if in general they seek, and turn away from the desire to seek, what happens is that knowledge of it is achieved rarely and by a few. That is why the weapons of academicians, when you have to fight them, seem invincible, and not only to mediocre men, but to witty and well-educated men. Therefore, as against the turbulences and storms of fortune we must provide ourselves with the oars of every possible virtue, so faithfully and piously must we pray for divine assistance, that the constant pursuit of the exercise of useful sciences may keep us on the right course, from which no chance may cause us to deviate from entering the safe and pleasant harbor of philosophy. This is your main problem; because of this I worry about you; That’s why I never stop praying every day for favorable winds for you. I pray to the very Power and Wisdom of the Supreme God. For what is She if not the Son of God, about whom the sacraments teach us. But you can help my prayers if you make your own efforts together with us, not only with vows, but also with good will, and with that natural height of your mind, for the sake of which I seek you, for which I enjoy, for which I am always surprised, which in you - oh, misfortune - is covered, like lightning, by the clouds of private affairs and is hidden from many, almost everyone, but it cannot hide from me and from your closest friends. We often not only clearly heard your thunderclaps, but also saw some of the brilliance characteristic of lightning. For who - to keep silent about the rest for the time being - who, I say, ever thundered so unexpectedly and flashed such a light of mind that under one powerful onslaught of reason, under a kind of lightning of abstinence, one fine day lust, the most unbridled the day before, died forever? So, will this force never break through again, turn many despairing people into horror and numbness, and, having spoken on earth as if some signs of the future, again casting aside the burden of the body, will not return to heaven? And was it not in vain that Augustine said all this about Romanian? No, this will not be allowed by the One to whom I gave myself entirely, whom I now began to recognize again. 2. So, come with me to philosophy. It contains everything that usually miraculously excites you, who are often sad and doubtful. In you I am not afraid to encounter either moral carelessness, or mental dullness and laziness. For when we managed to take advantage of some rest, who turned out to be more cheerful than you in speeches, who was more insightful? Am I really not going to repay you with gratitude? Don't I owe you a favor? You accepted the poor young man, who was going to study in a foreign direction, into the house for his support, and, what is even more important, for his spiritual goodwill. You consoled the orphan who had lost his father with friendship, inspired him with admonitions, and supported him with help. In our municipality itself, through your patronage, friendship, and acquaintance with your house, you have made me almost equally famous and noble as you. And when I returned to Carthage to take up a more honorable teaching chair and, hiding this news from others, shared it with you, then, although, due to your inherent love for your homeland (for I had already taught there), you held me back for some time, but then, not being able to defeat the desires of the young man for what seemed to him best, with amazing meekness of goodwill you turned from a dissuader into an assistant. You provided me with everything I needed for the journey. And there you, who guarded the cradle and, as it were, the nest of my scientific studies, supported my first experiments, when I dared to fly. Even when I, in your absence and without your knowledge, sailed by sea, you were not at all angry because I, as usual, did not consult with you about this first, and remained faithful to our friendship; and you were not so much worried about the children left before your eyes by the teacher, but about the secret aspirations and purity of my heart. Finally, if I have achieved any peace; if you have escaped the shackles of excesses and whims; if, having laid aside the burdens of dead worries, I take a breath, come to my senses, return to myself; if I search with special diligence for the truth; if I’m already starting to find it; if I hope that I will reach its highest limit, then it is you who inspired me; you gave me a boost; you did it, Romanian! And whose servant you were, I see for now more by faith than I understand by reason. For when I personally explained to you the inner movements of my soul and often assured you that no fortune seems to me happier than that which gives leisure for philosophizing, that there is no more blissful life than a life devoted to philosophy, but that I myself am bound by responsibilities towards my relatives, which depend on the fulfillment of my duty, and by the multitude of needs generated either by false shame, or by the hopeless poverty of my relatives, you were so delighted, so inflamed holy desire of this life, that he said that if you could somehow throw off the shackles of certain annoying lawsuits, you would break my shackles, making me a participant in your property. And after you left us, having given us strength, we never ceased to thirst for philosophy and did not think decisively about anything other than the life about which we decided and agreed among ourselves. Acting in this direction constantly (although we acted with insufficient firmness), we thought, however, that we had worked pretty hard. And since there was not yet that flame that, having flared up, subsequently engulfed us, we considered the greatest flame to be the one with which we were only slightly warmed. When it unexpectedly happened that some books full of contents, dousing us, as Celsinus says, with the incense of Arabia, sprinkled this light with the smallest drops of the most precious oils, they fanned an incredible fire. Yes, Romanian, incredible and unexpected even for me! What honor then, what pomp and desire for empty glory, what, finally, joy and affection of this mortal life could then matter to me? I was completely lost and suddenly returned to myself. Only, I admit, I looked back, as if from the road, at that religion that was instilled in us from childhood and penetrated into the very depths of our souls, but attracted me to itself without my consciousness. And so, hesitating and hastily, as if in confusion, I grab the Apostle Paul. No, I say, they would not really have such power and would not live as they undoubtedly lived if their writings and rules were contrary to this great good! And I re-read it with the deepest attention. Then, no matter how small the light that illuminated me, philosophy appeared to me in such beauty that if I could show, not only to you, who, even without knowing it, was always drawn to it with a fiery desire, but also to your enemy himself, who did not so much accustom you to it as distracted you, then he too, rejecting and forgetting both warm waters, and pleasure places in the countryside, and elegant and brilliant feasts, and family pantomimes, and finally, everything that strongly attracts him to any kind of pleasure, would fly towards her charms with tender and holy love, surprised, excited by desire, overwhelmed by passion. For he too, which must be admitted, has some spiritual beauty, or better yet, as if entrusted to the field, the seeds of beauty, which, in their efforts to sprout into true beauty, send out their shoots twistingly and ugly between the roughness of vices and the thorns of false opinions, but still do not cease to break through, and allow themselves to be noticed by those few who peer into the thicket vigilantly and attentively. Hence his famous hospitality; hence the many spices of cordiality in his feasts; hence the most grace, brilliance, the highest degree of decency in everything, and a subtle outward politeness diffused throughout. 3. This is called philocalia in vulgar language. Do not neglect the subject because of the vulgarity of the name. For philocalia and philosophy are named almost identically, and they seem, and in fact, are in many ways related to each other. What is philosophy? - love for the wise. What is phylocalia? - love of beauty. Don't believe me? – check with the Greeks. Well, what is wisdom? Isn't she truly beautiful? It turns out that philosophy and philocalia are sisters, and they were born from the same father; but although the second is drawn by the snares of lust from heaven and locked in a cage by the common people, her very name reminds us that we should not rush to condemn her. And it is her, disgraced, deprived of wings, in need, that her free-floating sister often recognizes her, but rarely frees her. Philokalia would not even know where she comes from if it were not for philosophy. Licentius will tell you this whole fable (see how I suddenly became an Aesop!) in a more pleasant form, in verse, for he is almost a poet of the first rank. So, this enemy of yours, if, having healed and opened his eyes, he could see true beauty, being a lover only of false beauty, with what pleasure he would embrace the bosom of philosophy! And having met you there, with what truly brotherly embraces he would hasten to meet you! You are surprised by this and maybe laugh. What if I explain this according to the stated position? What if he could at least hear the voice of philosophy? Be surprised, perhaps, but don’t laugh and don’t despair. Believe me, you shouldn’t despair for anyone, least of all for those like you. There are enough examples of how this genus of birds easily escapes and flies away, to the great surprise of many prisoners. But let's return to our business. Let's start philosophizing, Romanian. I'll tell you some good news: your son has already started studying philosophy. I restrain him so that, having studied the necessary sciences in advance, he will acquire more strength and firmness. For your own acquaintance with these sciences, if I know you well, do not be afraid. I wish you only free air. For what can I say about your natural gifts? If only they were not so rare in people, as they are undeniable in you! There will remain two difficulties and obstacles to the discovery of the truth - but even regarding them I do not have any particular fears regarding you. I want you not to despise yourself and despair of finding her, or think that you have already found her. If you have the first, then a subsequent competition can eliminate it. You were often angry with academics—the more angry you were the less you studied them, but also the more willingly the more lovingly you strived for the truth. So, with your permission, I will enter into a competition with Alypius and will easily make you convinced of what I want, at least as probable. For you will not see the truth itself until you devote yourself entirely to philosophy. As for the second, that is, that you can imagine that you have found something, although you left us searching and doubting, then if any superstition has crept into yours, it will, of course, be discarded as soon as I send you some kind of competition between us “On the Border,” or as soon as I talk with you personally. Currently, all I do is cleanse myself of false and harmful opinions. Therefore, I have no doubt that I am better off than you. There is only one thing in which I envy your fortune - that you alone use my Lucilius. But maybe you are also jealous that I called it mine? But why, however, should I ask you to ease my longing for him? Ask yourself for me, because it is your duty. I say to both of you: beware of thinking that you know anything other than what you have studied, at least to the extent that you know that one, two, three and four added together make ten. And, at the same time, beware of coming to the conclusion that you will not recognize truth in philosophy, or that it cannot in any way be known. Believe me, or rather the One who says: “Seek and you will find” (Matthew 7.7), that one should not despair of knowledge, and that the truth can appear clearer than the above numbers. Now let's move on to the proposal. A little late, I began to fear that this beginning would not exceed the permissible limit, and my fear was not without reason. For the measure is, without any doubt, divine. But she seduced me because she led me pleasantly. I will be more careful when I become wise. 4. After the previous conversation, set out in the first book, we did not engage in disputes for almost seven days, although we re-read and analyzed only three books of Virgil. However, during these studies, Licencius became so carried away by the study of poetry that it seemed to me necessary to hold him back a little. For he was reluctant to allow himself to be distracted from this occupation by any other subject. However, finally, when I, as best I could, praised the light of philosophy, he, without coercion, began to consider the question of academicians that we had postponed. Fortunately, it was such a bright and fine day that it seemed that it was created only for this purpose, to lightly calm our souls. So, we got up early that day and spent some time with the villagers, as required by economic needs and the time of year itself. Then Alypius said: “Before I hear your argument about academics, I will ask you to read to me that speech of yours that was completed in my absence, because otherwise, since the reason for the present competition arose from there, I may either be mistaken or find it difficult to understand the essence of the matter.” When this was done and we saw that it had taken almost the entire afternoon, we decided to return home from the field. At the same time, Licencius said: “I beg you, do not take the trouble to briefly repeat to me before lunch the opinion of the academicians in its entirety, so that I do not leave out anything from it that could serve me well.” “If you please,” I say, “and all the more willingly, because otherwise, occupied with this thought, you will have a bad dinner.” “Well,” he laughed, “you can rest assured on this score: I have often noticed that many, and especially my father, the more anxious they are, the more densely they eat.” Yes, you yourself, when I was thinking about poetic meters, did you even notice that my preoccupation left the table untouched? I myself, to admit, am surprised: how does it happen that we lean on food with a special appetite precisely when our soul is directed towards something else? And how can we explain that when both our hands and teeth are busy, the soul rules over us? “Listen better,” I say, “to information about academicians; because otherwise, busy with your meters, you will not only be in food, but also in matters without meter. If I hide anything in favor of my opinion, let Alypius convict me. “You need complete conscientiousness on your part,” noted Alypius, “because if I had to fear that you would hide something, then I would hardly be able to catch the one who taught me all this.” Moreover, I have no doubt at all that your motivation to reveal the truth lies not in the desire for victory, but in your heart. 5. “I will act in good faith,” I say, “since you have the right to demand it.” Academicians believe that a person cannot achieve knowledge only of those things that belong to the field of philosophy (Carneades argued that he does not care about the rest); nevertheless, a person can be wise, and they saw the whole business of the wise (as you, Licentius, argued in a previous speech) in the search for truth. From this it followed that the wise man does not trust anything: for he would necessarily be mistaken (which is criminal on the part of the wise man) if he trusted things that were doubtful. And that everything was doubtful, they not only said, but also confirmed with numerous evidence. They derived the proposition that truth cannot be comprehended from the well-known definition of the Stoic Zeno, that one can accept as truth that which was perceived by the soul from where it was, as it could not be perceived from where it was not. Briefly and more clearly, this is expressed as follows: truth can be known by those characteristics that something that is false cannot have. They used all their efforts to prove that it was absolutely impossible to recognize this. Hence, the disagreements of philosophers, deceptions of the senses, dreams and hallucinations, and all kinds of sophisms were put forward in defense of such a teaching. And since they learned from the same Zeno that there is nothing more unworthy than opinion, they very craftily constructed this position: if nothing can be known, and opinion is very unworthy, then the wise will never assert anything. This aroused great hatred against them. It seemed completely natural that someone who does not affirm anything would not do anything. It seemed that the academicians portrayed their sage, who was considered not to affirm anything, always sleeping and shirking any duties. In order to avoid this, they introduced the concept of the probable, which they also called truth-like, and began to assert that the wise man in no way ceases to fulfill his duties, since he knows what to follow, but the truth is hidden from him either because it is obscured by some natural darkness, or because it does not stand out from the multitude of similar things. However, they called the great activity of the wise both abstinence itself and, as it were, hesitation in trust. It seems to me that I briefly outlined everything as you, Alypius, wanted, and did not deviate from your demand in any way, i.e. acted, as they say, in good faith. If he didn’t say it the way it is, or didn’t say something, then he did it involuntarily. That which is expressed in good faith according to the best understanding. A person should look upon the deceived person as one who should be taught, and the deceiver as one who should be feared: the first of these requires a good teacher, and the latter a cautious student. Then Alypius said: “I am very grateful to you that you satisfied Licensius and removed a heavy burden from me.” For you shouldn’t have been so afraid of leaving something unsaid. For the sake of testing me (for how could it be otherwise?), how much would I, if it were necessary to convict you of anything? Now, be so kind as to explain what is missing not so much from the question as from the questioner himself: what is the difference between the new Academy and the ancient one? “I admit,” I replied, “this is a boring thing.” You will do me a favor (for I cannot deny that what you mention is relevant) if, while I rest a little, you take the trouble to distinguish these schools in front of me and explain the origin of the new Academy. “I would have thought,” he smiled, “that you had decided to discourage me from having dinner, if I hadn’t considered you more frightened by Licentius recently, which is why his demand forced us to unravel for him exactly before dinner everything that was confusing in this.” But when he wanted to continue, our mother began calling us for dinner so insistently that there was no time to talk. 6. After lunch, we returned to the meadow. Alypius said: “I obey your sentence and do not dare refuse.” And if nothing escapes me, I will be grateful for this both to your teaching and to my memory. If I accidentally make a mistake, you will correct the mistake so that in the future I will not be afraid of such orders. In my opinion, the break did not so much occur between the new Academy itself and the ancient one, but was provoked by the Stoics. The fact that the new question introduced by Zeno had to be resolved and discussed should not yet be considered a rupture. The idea of ​​the impossibility of adequate perception, not without reason, is considered to belong to the minds of ancient academicians, although, of course, then it was not considered so fundamental. This can be proven by referring to the authority of Socrates himself, Plato and other ancients, who thought that until then they could only consider themselves insured against errors until they blindly trusted impressions; however, they did not introduce deliberate discussions about this subject into their schools and never brought to the fore the question of whether truth can or cannot be perceived. When Zeno put it sharply and freshly and began to assert that nothing can be known except what is so true that it allows one to distinguish oneself from a false one by signs that are obviously dissimilar to it, and that a wise person should not obey established opinions, then, having heard about this, Archiselaus began to deny the possibility for a person to discover anything of this kind, and, at the same time, the admissibility of entrusting his life to the destructive guidance of opinion. From this he drew the conclusion that nothing should be trusted. But when the situation was such that the ancient Academy seemed rather strengthened than weakened by the attacks, there appeared a listener of Philo, Antiochus, who, being, in the opinion of some, more a lover of glory than of truth, caused a hostile clash of opinions between the two Academy. He said that the new academicians are trying to introduce something unusual and completely alien to the way of thinking of the ancients. He referred to the testimony of ancient physicists and other great philosophers, and attacked the academicians themselves, who claimed that they followed what was true, although they admitted that they did not know the truth itself. He also collected a lot of other evidence, which I do not consider necessary to present at this time. Most of all, he defended the idea that the wise can perceive the truth. Such, in my opinion, was the disagreement between the new and ancient academicians. If it was otherwise, I will ask you to acquaint Licence, and all of us, with this subject in more detail. And if it was so, as I was able to convey, then continue the competition you started. “How satisfied are you, Licencius, with our longer speech than I expected?” Have you heard what your academics are like? He, smiling modestly and somewhat excited by this address to him, answered: “I am sorry that I so persistently objected to Trigetius that the blessed life consists in the study of truth.” This question itself worries me so much that I am almost miserable, and I must really seem so to you if you have any philanthropy in you. But why am I, the absurd one, torturing myself and others? Am I afraid of something, having support in the very justice of the opinion being defended? Whatever it is, I will yield only to the truth. “Do you like,” I say, “the new academicians?” “So, in your opinion, they were learning the truth?” Then he, ready to immediately agree, but noticing Alypiy’s grin, became more cautious, became somewhat confused, and then said: “Is it true,” I say, “in your opinion, what the academicians taught?” He thought again for a long time, and then answered: – Whether it’s true, I don’t know; but - probably. For I do not see what else to follow. – Do you know that they call the probable truth-like? – And, therefore, the opinion of academicians should be considered true? “Now I ask you,” I say, “to listen carefully.” If someone, seeing your brother, began to claim that he looked like your father, but did not know your father himself, would he not seem crazy and absurd to you? And after that he was silent for a long time, and then said: – This doesn’t seem incongruous to me. When I started to object to him, he exclaimed: - Please, wait a little! Then, smiling, he continued: – Tell me, please, are you already confident in your victory? - Let’s assume that I’m sure; but for this reason you should not abandon the defense of your opinion, especially since we have undertaken this competition for the sake of your exercise and to give your mind flexibility in disputes. - Have I really read academics, or am I so familiar with the sciences, fully armed with which you oppose me? “Even those who first began to defend this opinion did not read academics,” I noted. And if you lack learning and a large store of information, then your mind should not be so powerless that you, without even making an attempt to object, wilt from a few of my words and questions. But I am beginning to fear that Alypius may take your place sooner than I would like. Having him as my opponent, I will consider my position not so safe. “Oh, if only,” he answered, “I was already defeated, so that I could finally hear, and even better, see you reasoning: I cannot imagine a happier sight.” Since you want to merge all this, as it were, into one, and not pour it out, because you catch what falls out of your mouth with style and do not allow, as they say, to fall to the ground, and all this can be read to you, then when those between whom the conversation is being held bring it to their eyes, whether this excellent competition will fill their souls with special benefit - I don’t know, but what will fill them with great pleasure - that’s for sure. “Thank you,” I said. “But this unexpected joy of yours made you thoughtlessly say that a happier sight could not have presented itself to you.” What if you see your father, who, after such a long thirst, having fallen with greater ardor for philosophy than anyone else, begins to reflect and reason with us about this? Personally, I will consider myself at this moment the happiest of mortals. And you, how will you feel? Here he shed tears, and when he was able to speak again, raising his hands and eyes to the sky, he said: ? - When, oh God, will I see this? But we must not lose hope in You in any way. For some time, we all, having forgotten about the subject of our competition, were ready to give in to tears, but, overcoming my excitement and coming to my senses, I said: “Take courage and gather your strength, which I have previously advised you, the future defender of the Academy, to stock up on—not so that, of course, trembling will seize your limbs even before the sound of the trumpet, or so that out of a desire to look at someone else’s, you would immediately want to surrender.” Then Trigetius, noticing that our faces had already brightened enough, said: - Why don’t we wish a worthy person that God would give him understanding before he himself begins to pray to Him for it? Just believe, Licencius, because when you don’t find what to answer, and yet still want to be a winner, you seem to me to be a person of little faith. We laughed, and Licencius immediately retorted: - Come on, our blessed one, tell us about how you not only don’t find the truth, but you’re not even going to look for it! When this playful squabble between the young men made us all happier, I said: - Delve into the question and again take the same road with greater, if you can, firmness and strength. “I’m ready,” he answered, “as far as I can.” Suppose that the one who looks at my brother has heard through rumor that he resembles his father; can he be called mad or absurd? “But, at least,” I say, “can one be called stupid?” - Not at all. Unless he would claim to know it. If he accepts only as probable what rumor has spread, he cannot be reproached with any recklessness. – Okay, let’s dwell a little on this subject and imagine that all this is happening before our eyes. Let the person we imagine, whoever he is, stand here. Let's say your brother comes. The man asks: “This boy, whose son is he?” They answer him: “A certain Romanian.” To this he: “How similar he is to his father! What true rumors have reached me about this.” At the same time, you or someone else would ask: “And you, dear man, do you know Romanian?” “No, I don’t know,” he answers, “however, this boy seems very similar to him to me.” Could anyone refrain from laughing at this? “So,” I say, “you see for yourself what follows from here.” – I’ve been seeing this for a long time, but I want to hear this conclusion from you. Once caught in a cage, you must feed the caught one. - Why not draw a conclusion? The case itself says that in the same way you should laugh at your academics, who say about themselves that in life they follow what is true, but meanwhile do not know what truth itself is. 8. Then Trigetius said: – It seems to me that the prudence of academics is far from similar to the stupidity of the person you introduced. They reach what they call truth-like through a reasonable path, but this, absurd one, is guided by rumors alone, the meaning of which is the most insignificant. “Wouldn’t he be even more absurd,” I say, “if he said: “Although I don’t know his father, and rumor has not reached me that he supposedly looks like his father, he still seems similar to me.” - Indeed, more ridiculous, but why is this? - And to the fact that these are the same as those who say: “Although we do not know the truth, what we see is not like what we do not know.” “They add the word “probably,” noted Trigetius. – What do you mean by this? Don't you deny that they spoke about what was true? “I said this in order to eliminate the similarity you presented. For it seems to me that rumor has been drawn into our question completely inappropriately. Academicians did not even believe in human eyes, even though rumor had it that there were not only thousands of them, as the poets imagine, but also with monstrous pupils. However, what kind of defender of the Academy am I? Do you really want to drag me into this dispute? You have Alypiy. May his arrival bring you celebration. I suppose that you are not in vain to be afraid of him? Then everyone looked at Alypius. He said: “I would really like, as far as my strength allows, to help the side you are defending to some extent, if not for your failure, which, like a bad omen, confuses me.” However, if hope does not deceive me, I will easily avoid this danger. I am encouraged by the fact that the current enemy of the Academy took upon himself the responsibilities of Trigetius, who was almost already defeated, but who now in your mind has probably already turned into a winner. I am more afraid that I will not be able to avoid the reproach of both neglecting an abandoned duty and shamelessly taking on a new one. I suppose you have not forgotten that I was entrusted with the responsibility of a judge. - That in itself, and this in itself. We ask that you consider yourself a private person for a while. “If you please, because, wanting to avoid shamelessness or negligence, I would fall into the net of pride, the worst vice, if I held on to the honor you bestowed on me longer than you allow.” 9 . So, I would like you, a strict accuser of academicians, to explain to me the responsibility you have assumed, i.e., in defending whom are you attacking them? For I fear that by refuting the academicians, you want to prove that you yourself are an academician. “I suppose you know well,” I answered, “that there are two kinds of accusers.” If Cicero, out of modesty, said that he was only the accuser of Verres because he wanted to be the defender of the Sicilians, then it does not follow from this that he who accuses someone necessarily defends another. – It’s easier to scold than to assert. Do you have your own definite opinion on this issue? “This,” I say, “is easy to answer, especially for me, for whom such a question is not unexpected.” I have already discussed all this with myself, thought long and hard. Therefore, listen, Alypius, to what I believe you already know very well: I do not at all want this competition to be undertaken for the sake of competition. It is enough that we allowed ourselves a foreplay with these young men, in which philosophy seemed to kindly joke with us. Let's put children's tales aside. It’s about our life, about rights, about the soul, which dreams of overcoming the enmity of all lies, and having learned the truth, how to return to the region of its homeland, having triumphed over lusts and combined with abstinence, as with a spouse, to reign, ensuring a return to heaven. Do you understand what I want to say? So, all that aside. We’ll leave the training in wars to my husband, a lover of war. If there was ever one thing I wanted least of all, it was for something to arise between those who had lived with me for a long time and often reasoned with me, because of which something like a new struggle would open up. I wanted to write down in writing what we often discussed among ourselves, for the sake of memory, which is not a reliable keeper of conjectures; and at the same time so that the young men learn to listen carefully and gain experience in attack and defense. So, don’t you know that I still don’t have anything true that I could dwell on with my thoughts, and the arguments and reasonings of academicians prevent me from looking for this true thing? I don’t know how, but they aroused in the soul the “probability” that a person cannot find the truth. This made me lazy and completely careless; and I did not dare to look for what the most insightful and learned men were not destined to find. Therefore, unless I am first convinced that the truth can be found (since they almost convinced me that it cannot be found), I do not dare to seek, and have nothing to defend. Take your question back, if you like, and let’s better reason among ourselves, as wittily as possible, whether the truth can be found? It seems to me that I already have a lot in favor of my opinion, in which I am trying to find support for myself against the teachings of the academicians, although there is still no other difference between them and me except the following: it seemed probable to them that the truth cannot be found, but it seems probable to me that it can be found. Ignorance of the truth either belongs to me, if they were pretending, or equally to them and to me. 10. Then Alypius said: “Now I will get down to business without fear, for I see that you will be not so much an accuser as an assistant.” But in order not to evade the matter any longer, let us first take care, I ask, that on this issue, which was handed down to me as an inheritance by those who retreated before you, we do not have a dispute over words. Indeed, according to your instructions, we often, using the words of Cicero, called such a dispute the most shameful thing. If I am not mistaken, when Licentius said that he liked the academicians’ idea of ​​probability, you asked (and he confirmed without hesitation) whether he knew that this probability was called truth-likeness among them. I know very well that the positions of academicians are not alien to you, because they are known to me from you. If, as I said, they are impressed in your thoughts, then why you are chasing words, I do not understand. “Believe me,” I answered, “that the great contradiction here is not in the words, but in the thing itself.” I don’t consider these husbands to be those who couldn’t call a spade a spade. But it seems to me that they chose these words in order, on the one hand, to hide their thought from the more stupid, and on the other, to make it clear to the more insightful. Why and how it seems to me, I will explain by first considering what, in the general opinion, was expressed by them as enemies of human knowledge. So, I am very pleased that our conversation today touched on this subject: this will establish with sufficient clarity what is being discussed between us. In my opinion, those men were serious and reasonable. If there is anything against which we will now argue, it will be against those who considered the academicians hostile to the discovery of truth. But don't think of me as intimidated either. I will willingly arm myself against them if they defended what we read in their books sincerely, and not to hide their thoughts, so that a kind of sacred truth would not be recklessly given out to unchaste and seemingly wicked minds. I would have done this today if the sunset had not forced us to return home. This was the end of the competition that day. 11. The next day, although the weather was no less pleasant and calm, we could not free ourselves from homework for a long time. We spent most of the day mainly doing correspondence and went out into the meadow when there were no more than two hours left until evening. The extraordinary clarity of the sky beckoned us and we really wanted to have time to bask at least in the pre-sunset rays. When we approached our favorite tree and stopped, I said: “Since today there is no time to take on an important question, I would like, young men, for you to remind me how Alypius answered yesterday to the question that confused you.” – It’s so simple that it’s not difficult to remember. As far as I understand, he advised you not to argue about words when the matter is obvious. “Did you understand enough,” I say, “what this means?” “It seems to me,” he answered, “I understand what this means; But I still ask you to explain. I have often heard from you that the hosts of a competition can continue to argue over words when there is no room left for an argument about the subject. However, this needs a more nuanced explanation than I can offer. “In that case, listen,” I say, “what it is.” Academics call probable or truth-like that which can cause us to act without trust. I say “without trust” in the sense that we do not consider what we do to be true, but we do it. For example, if someone asked us whether the clear sun would rise after yesterday’s bright and cloudless night, I think we would answer that we don’t know, but it seems so. “This is how,” say the academicians, “everything that we call probable or true seems to us. And if you want to call it something else, well, we won’t argue. It is enough for us if you understand well what we are saying, that is, what things we call by this name. For it becomes a wise man not to be a creator of words, but an explorer of things.” Have you now sufficiently understood how those toys with which I occupied you have been knocked out of my hands? When they both replied that they understood and asked me to continue, I said: – Do you think that Cicero, to whom these words belong, was so poor in his knowledge of the Latin language that he gave insufficiently suitable names to the objects he thought about? – We have already decided not to raise any empty disputes over words, especially since the subject is clear. Therefore, you better take care of the answer to the one who stood up for us. - Wait, please; It seems to me that I noticed something from which it follows that you should not allow such an important argument to be taken away from you so easily. Then, deep in thought and after a short silence, he continued: – In my opinion, there is nothing more incongruous than to assert that someone who does not know what truth is is guided by what is truth-like. The comparison you made doesn’t bother me either. If I were really asked whether it is true that with this clarity of the sky it will not rain, I would answer that it is true because I do not deny that I know something true. So I know that this tree cannot immediately become silver, and I affirm, without any self-delusion, that I know many things that are true, which I find similar to what I call truth-like. But you, Carneades, or some other Greek plague, in order to spare your own (for why would I hesitate to go over to the side of the one to whom, being a prisoner, I owe obedience by the right of his victory?), you, who claim that you do not know anything true, where do you get this truth-like? Would you say you couldn't give it another name? In this case, we have nothing to interpret with someone who cannot speak. “Neither I,” said Alypius, “are afraid of deserters, much less Carneades, whom you, I don’t know, out of youthful or childish frivolity, decided to throw slander rather than an arrow.” For in confirmation of his opinion, which he brought to all probability, the following would be enough for him: how far we are from the knowledge of the truth, you yourself can serve as a great proof of this, because with one small objection you have been so knocked out of your place that you no longer know where to stand. But let’s put this off until another time, along with your knowledge, which, according to your recent words, was impressed on you about this tree. Although you have already crossed over to the other side, you must carefully consider what I just said. As I believe, we have not yet reached the question of whether the truth can be found, but at the very threshold of my defense, in which I saw you fallen and prostrate on the ground, I found it necessary to inscribe only one thing: what is true, or probable, or called by some other name, which the academicians consider sufficient for themselves, should not be sought. For if you seem to yourself to be an excellent seeker of truth, this does not concern me yet. Afterwards, if you don’t repay my patronage with ingratitude, maybe you’ll teach me the same. 13. Since Licencius was afraid of the attack of Alypius, I said: “You, Alypius, have expressed everything, except how one should reason with those who do not know how to speak.” “Everyone has known for a long time, and is now sufficiently proven by your teaching activities, that you are skilled in words. Therefore, I would like you to explain first for what purpose you carried out this interrogation. If, as I think, it was unnecessary, then it was all the more unnecessary to answer it if there was some purpose in mind, but I could not understand it; then I ask you not to bother taking on the responsibility of a mentor. “You remember,” I answered, “that yesterday I promised to talk about famous words later.” But now this sun over there convinces me to hide the toys laid out for children in boxes, especially since I laid them out more for decoration than for sale. Now, before darkness, the usual patron of Academicians, takes over our style, I would like to establish between us with complete clarity the question for the consideration of which we will need to get up early in the morning. So I ask you to answer me: Do you think that the Academicians had a more precise understanding of the truth, but did not want to recklessly give it away to ignorant or unclean souls? or did they think so, as stated in their reasoning? - That they spoke sincerely, I will prove this thoroughly. As far as can be concluded from books, you know better than me that they usually revealed their opinion in words. And if you ask me about my personal opinion, then I think that the truth has not yet been found. I will even add (although you asked about the Academicians) that in my opinion it cannot be found, and this is not only based on the opinion that is ingrained in me - as you almost always reproached me - but also on the basis of the authority of many famous philosophers, before whom, I don’t know, whether it is our weakness or their insight makes us bow our heads, although we should already be convinced that nothing can be found. “That’s what I wanted,” I answered. - For I was afraid that your competition would not remain one-sided if you were of the same opinion as me; because then there would be no one on the other side who would encourage him to take possession of the subject in order to examine it as best as possible. If this happened, I was ready to ask you to take the side of the Academicians so that it would seem that you were not only arguing, but actually were convinced that the truth cannot be known. So between us we are talking about whether it is probable, on the basis of the evidence they provide, that nothing can be perceived and that nothing should be trusted? If you prove this, I will yield willingly. But if I am able to prove that it is much more likely that a wise person can reach the truth, and equally that trust should not always be eliminated; then, I believe, you will have no reason left why you should not bother with my opinion. “When he and everyone present agreed with this, we returned home, in the evening twilight. 1. When we sat together in the baths the next day (it was cloudy, which discouraged anyone from going to the meadow), I began my speech like this: “I think it is clear to everyone present what subject we will be discussing.” But, before I begin to present my views, I ask you to listen to something about hope, about life, about our destiny, which does not deviate from the subject. I believe that seeking the truth is not empty or superfluous, but necessary and our most important duty. On this we agree with Alypius. For other philosophers thought that their sages found it, but the academicians said about their sage that he had to look for it with the greatest effort, and that he did it diligently. But since it was either hidden, being obscured by something, or did not stand out, being mixed with something else, he accepted as the rule of life what he found probable or true-like. This followed as a consequence of your previous reasoning. For, since one argued that a person becomes blessed when the truth is found, and the other - when it is only carefully sought, then none of us doubts that we should not place anything above this duty. So please tell me, what kind of day do you think I spent yesterday? At least you managed to indulge in your studies. For you, Trigetius, delighted in the works of Virgil, and Licentius had the leisure to compose poetry, to which he became so addicted that it was mainly for his sake that I considered it necessary to enter into this conversation, so that philosophy (for now is the time for this) would take and establish in his soul the superiority not only over poetry, but also over every other science. 2. But please tell me, didn’t you feel sorry for me, who, having gone to bed the night before with the thought of getting up only to solve the postponed issue and for nothing else, was faced with so many urgent household chores that, completely occupied with them, I could barely spare the last two hours of the day for my rest? Therefore, my always opinion was that a wise man does not need anything, but to become wise, fortune is very necessary. But Alypius, perhaps, has a different opinion? “I don’t know exactly how many rights you assimilate to fortune.” If in order to despise fortune, you consider fortune itself necessary, then I agree with your opinion. But if you assign to fortune the only thing that you can, only with its favor, satisfy the necessary bodily needs, then I think differently. For in this case, not yet a wise person, but only one thirsting for wisdom, can, both with the opposition of fortune and against her will, take what we recognize as necessary; or we will have to admit that it dominates the whole life of the wise, since the wise himself cannot help but need what is necessary for the body. “So, you assert,” I say, “that fortune is necessary for one who has a love of wisdom, but in relation to the wise you deny this.” “The matter is not harmed by repeating the same thing,” he answered, “but I, in turn, will ask you: do you think that fortune contributes in any way to your own contempt?” If you think so, then I will say that he who thirsts for wisdom needs fortune in every possible way. “I think that it is thanks to her that he will become such that he will be able to despise her; and this does not represent any inconsistency. For in the same way, when we are small, we need our mother’s breasts, which make it so that later we can live and be healthy without them. “Our opinions,” he answered, “if we understand each other, coincide.” But someone may think it necessary to more accurately indicate that both fortune and breasts make us despise not the breasts themselves or fortune, but something else. “It’s not much work,” I say, “to use another comparison.” Just as no one can cross the Aegean Sea without a ship, or any other means of transportation, or in general (not excluding Daedalus himself) without any tools adapted for this, or without any most secret strength, even if, assuming only this to be achieved, he was ready to abandon and despise everything by which he crossed, so is it true for anyone who would wish to reach the harbor of wisdom and stand on firm ground and, a calm ground, in my opinion, is necessary to achieve the desire to have fortune, because he will not be able to do this if, for example, he is blind and deaf, and this is in the power of fortune. But when he achieved this, even though he seemed to need some things related to bodily health, he undoubtedly needed them not in order to be wise, but in order to live among people. “And in my opinion, if someone is blind and deaf, he even has the right to despise both the search for wisdom and life itself, for the sake of which wisdom is sought.” “However, since our life is in the power of fortune, and since only a living person can be wise, shouldn’t we admit that we need its protection in order for us to achieve wisdom?” “But if wisdom,” noted Alypius, “is necessary only for those living, and as soon as life is completed, there is no longer any need for wisdom, then in relation to the continuation of life and fortune, I am not at all afraid.” For I desire wisdom insofar as I live, and not insofar as I want to live insofar as I desire wisdom. Therefore, if fortune takes away my life, it will also destroy the reason to seek wisdom. So, I have nothing that, in order to be wise, I would desire the protection of fortune or fear its obstacles. Well, what do you say to this? “Don’t you think that for someone who loves wisdom, fortune can create obstacles to the achievement of wisdom, even if it does not take away his life?” “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. 3. “I would like,” I say, “for you to explain what, in your opinion, is the difference between a wise man and a philosopher?” “I believe,” he answered, “the difference between a wise man and one who has a love for wisdom is only that the wise man has some comprehension of those things for which he who has a love for wisdom has only a passionate desire.” -What kind of thing is this? - I ask. “For example, the only difference between them seems to me to be that one knows wisdom, while the other only wants to know.” – If you imagine this knowledge within modest limits, then you said the same thing, only more clearly. “No matter what boundaries I define for it, it is recognized by everyone that knowledge cannot be knowledge of false things.” “This time,” he answered, “it seemed necessary to me to preface a reservation so that in the event of my rash consent, your speech would not lead to easy attacks against me on such basic issues.” “Indeed,” I say, “you left me no place where I could direct my attack.” If I’m not mistaken, we have already come to the very end, which I have been preparing for a long time. So, as you subtly and correctly put it, between those who love wisdom and the wise, there is only this difference that the first loves, and the second has already mastered the teaching of wisdom (that is why you decided to use the well-known expression - “some assimilation”); but one who has not studied anything cannot master the teaching, and one who knows nothing has not learned anything, and no one can know what is necessary. This means that the wise man knows the truth, for you yourself have recognized that the teachings of wisdom belong to his soul. “I don’t know to what extent I would be shameless,” he said, “if I wanted to deny that I recognized in the wise the mastery and exploration of things divine and human.” But why it seems to you that mastering by finding only the probable is impossible, I don’t understand. - But you agree with me that no one knows what is false? - Willingly. “In that case,” I say, “are you really ready to assert that a wise man does not know wisdom?” “Why do you reduce everything to the point that it can only seem to him that he knows wisdom?” “Give me,” I say, “your hand.” If you remember, I promised yesterday to do exactly this, and I am very glad that I did not draw this conclusion to you, but received it completely ready from you. I said that the difference between me and the academicians was that it seemed probable to them that the truth could not be known, but it seems to me that although it has not yet been found, it can be found by the wise. Now, answering my question - does the wise man really not know wisdom - you said: “It seems to him that he knows.” But what follows from this? – he remarked. “Because,” I say, “if it seems to him that he knows wisdom, then it does not seem to him that the wise cannot know anything.” Or, if wisdom is nothing, prove it with evidence. I thought we had truly come to the end; at the very time when you extended your hand, I see that we were separated as much as possible and diverged very much. Namely: yesterday it seemed that a dispute arose between us only about whether a wise man can achieve knowledge of the truth; You claimed it, I denied it. Now I have made, in my opinion, the only concession that it may seem to a wise man that he has comprehended wisdom in probable things. But I think none of us doubts that by this wisdom I mean the study of things divine and human. “Just because you are trying to dodge,” I smiled, “does not mean that you succeeded.” It seems to me that you are arguing for the sake of arguing. And since you know well that these young men can still hardly distinguish between sharpness and subtlety in judgments, you take advantage of the inexperience of the judges to speak as much as you please, without encountering disapproval from anyone. After all, shortly before this, when I asked whether the wise man knows wisdom, you said that it seems to him that he knows. But to anyone who thinks that a wise man knows wisdom, it cannot seem to him that a wise man knows nothing. One cannot argue against this unless one decides to assert that wisdom is nothing. From this it turned out that it seems to you the same as to me; It seems to me that the wise man knows something; I suppose the same is true for you, who said that it seems to the wise that the wise know wisdom. “I think that it is not so much I who want to exercise my abilities as you, and I am very surprised at this, since you do not need any exercise on this subject.” I may be blind, but it seems to me that there is a difference between seeming to know and knowing, between wisdom based on research and truth. We said both; but how it all comes together I don’t understand. Then I, since we were already called for dinner, said: “I’m unhappy that you’re so stubborn, because either we both don’t know what we’re saying, and in that case we need to try to remove such shame from ourselves, or one of us will know that it would also be shameful to ignore and neglect.” Therefore, we will meet again in the afternoon. For at a time when it seemed to me that everything was over between us, you even used your fists. Everyone laughed at this, and we went home. 4. When we returned, we found Licentius, whose thirst Helicon had never satisfied, puzzling over the composition of poetry. Almost halfway through lunch, although our lunch ended where it began, he quietly stood up and did not drink anything. I told him: “I sincerely wish you to create the poetic work you have conceived.” This is not because I would be particularly pleased with its ending, but because I see you so passionately carried away that only disgust can free you from this love, and it usually appears at the end. And after that, since you have a very pleasant voice, I would like you to read your poems to us rather than, as in the famous Greek tragedies, sing them, since in this case the meaning eludes not only the listeners, but, often, also from the performers, who are likened to birds singing in cages. Let me remind you, however, that it would be nice for you to return to our school, if, of course, “Hortensius” and philosophy, to which you have already sacrificed the most beautiful cobs in our previous conversation, have any meaning for you at the present time, and which will inflame you more powerfully than poetry to the knowledge of great and fruitful things. But wishing in every possible way to attract you to these sciences, which serve the education of souls, I am afraid that you will not fall into the labyrinth, and I almost regret that I restrained that passion of yours. Licentius blushed and went out to drink, partly because he felt very thirsty, but also because it served as an excuse to avoid me, who could reprimand him much more severely. When he returned, and everyone was ready to listen, I began like this: “Is it true Alypius that we do not agree with each other on the most clear subject?” “There is nothing surprising,” he answered, “if for me it is dark that for you, as you assure, is quite obvious; for very many things that are clear can seem clearer to others, just as something dark can seem darkest to others. So, if this is really clear to you, then, believe me, there is someone else for whom what is clear to you is much clearer, and, at the same time, there will be someone for whom what is dark is much darker for me. But so that you no longer consider me absurd, I ask you to make this clearer. “Please listen,” I say, “attentively and put aside for a while the concern of answering.” If I know myself and you well, then if you try, you will quickly understand me. Didn’t you say, or perhaps my hearing deceived me, that it seems to the wise that he knows the truth? He confirmed. “Let’s leave this wise man,” I say, “for now.” Are you wise or not? “Not wise at all,” he answered. - However, I ask you to answer me what you personally think about the wise academician: does it seem to you that he knows wisdom? “Isn’t it the same thing,” asked Alypius, “to seem to know and to know; or, after all, not one? For I fear that this uncertainty may serve one of us as a means against the other. “This,” I say, “is usually called Tusk litigation, when, having filed a lawsuit, they try not to find out what can serve to resolve it, but to raise objections to the opposing side.” This our glorious Virgil (to say something pleasant to Licentius) in bucolic verse quite appropriately considered rustic and completely pastoral; when one asks the other where the distance to the sky is no more than three cubits, he replies: “Tell me, in what lands do the flowers grow that are called kings?” But you, Alypius, do not consider this appropriate for us, although we live in the village; Let at least these baths remind us somewhat of the decency of the gymnasiums. Answer, if you wish, what I am asking you: do you think that the wise academician knows wisdom? “So that, in answering words with words,” he replied, “we don’t go too far, I’ll say this: it seems to me that he thinks he knows.” “Therefore,” I say, “it seems to you that he doesn’t know.” For I ask not what seems to you about what appears to be wise, but whether it seems to you that the wise know wisdom. You cannot, in my opinion, answer this either affirmatively or negatively. “Oh, if it was either as easy for me as it is for you, or as difficult for you as it is for me, then you would not be so attached and would not treat this with any hope.” When you asked me what seemed to me about the wise academician, I answered: it seems to me that it seems to him that he knows wisdom - I answered so in order not to rashly assert that I know, or not to say no less rashly that he knows. - First of all, please do me a great favor, deign to answer what I ask, and not what you ask yourself. And then, leave for a while my hope, which, I know for sure, concerns you no less than your own. After all, if I get caught in this question, I will immediately go over to your side, and we will end the dispute. Finally, having eliminated this kind of anxiety that I notice in you, delve more carefully so that it is easier for you to understand what kind of answer I expect from you. You said that you do not affirm or deny (which the question I proposed required you to do) in order not to rashly say that you know when in fact you do not know; as if I was asking about what you know, and not about what you think. So, I ask you this time more clearly (if it is possible to speak more clearly): does it seem to you that the wise man knows wisdom, or does it not seem to him? “If,” he answered, “a true sage can be found, then it may seem to me that he knows wisdom.” - So, reason tells you that there must be a wise man who is not ignorant of wisdom; and this. Because it cannot seem to you otherwise. But now I ask: can there be such a wise one? If he can, he can know wisdom, and then every dispute between us is settled. If you say that he cannot, the question will no longer be whether a wise man knows anything, but whether anyone can be wise. Having established this, it will be necessary to leave the academicians, and, to the best of our ability, to consider this issue diligently and carefully with you. For for them it was a settled matter, or better, it seemed to them that a person can be wise, but, at the same time, that knowledge cannot be the destiny of a person. That is why they argued that the wise man knows nothing. It seems to you that he knows wisdom; which, in any case, is not at all the same as not knowing anything. At the same time, among us, as well as among all the ancients and among the academicians themselves, it was decided that no one can know what is false. Therefore, you can either prove that wisdom is nothing, or admit that academics represent such a wise person that reason does not allow. 5. So, leaving them, do you agree to explore with me whether a person can achieve such wisdom as reason speaks of? For we should not and cannot call anything else true wisdom. “But even if,” he noted, “I make the concession that you are trying so hard to achieve, that the wise know wisdom, and that we have mentally grasped this something that the wise can perceive, it still seems to me that the general premise of the Academicians’ syllogism in its entirety has not been refuted.” In my opinion, there is still room left for them to defend themselves, a certain vacillation in trust has not been eliminated, so that they can find protection for their opinion in what you consider them to be defeated. They will also talk about the impossibility of knowledge and that one should not trust anything; so the proposition about the impossibility of perceiving anything, in which they convinced themselves with probability through the experience of almost their entire lives and which is now wrested from them by this conclusion (whether due to the dullness of my mind or due to its actual weight, but the power of this argument seems invincible to me), cannot force them to deviate from their opinion, since they still have reason to assert that even in this case they should not agree with anything. For it may happen that someday they or someone else will be able to find something against this that will be said wittily and with probability; and that the image and, as it were, some reflection of this should be seen in the famous Proteus, about whom it is said that he was usually caught, when he was not caught at all, and those who were looking for him could never find him, unless by some divine direction. If such an indication is given and deigns to reveal to us this truth, which is the subject of so much effort, then I, even against their will, which I do not assume, will recognize them as defeated. “Things are going so well,” I say, “that I couldn’t wish for anything better.” For I ask you to pay attention to how much and in what kind of words were expressed that were useful to me. Firstly, the academicians seem to be already so defeated that they have no other means of defense left than the one that is impossible. For who can in any way understand or believe that the conquered, on the basis of the very thing by which he is conquered, will present himself as the conqueror? Then, if we still have some point of dispute with them, it is not that they say that one cannot know anything, but that they claim that nothing should be trusted. So we have now come to an agreement. For it seems to me as well as to them that the wise know wisdom. They advise only to refrain from trusting, they say that it only seems to them; but to know, as I say about myself that I know, they in no way know. I also say that this or that seems to me, because I am stupid, like them, if they do not know wisdom. But still I think that we must affirm something, that is, the truth. I ask them if they deny it, i.e. whether they believe that the truth should not be trusted. They never say this, but stand their ground that she cannot be found. So, in this case they have a partial ally in me, because I, like them, do not reject, and, therefore, of necessity I believe that the truth should be agreed with. But who, they say, will prove it? This time I won't argue with them. It is enough for me that it is incredible that a wise man knows nothing, so as not to force them to assert nonsense such as that wisdom is nothing, or that a wise man does not know wisdom. 6. You asked, Alypius, who can show the truth; and I will try in every possible way to agree with you on this. Only some divine power, you said, can show a person what is true; it is both short and, at the same time, pious. In this dispute of ours, I have not heard anything more pleasant, more serious, more probable, and if, as I believe, divine power is inherent in this, more true. And in your very mention of Proteus, what sublimity of mind, what striving for the highest kind of philosophy! This Proteus (note, young men, that philosophy does not at all consider poets despicable) is presented as an image of truth. In verse, I say, Proteus shows and represents the personification of truth, which no one can master if, deceived by false images, he weakens or lets go of the network of knowledge. False images are those which, according to the conditions of bodily life, through the senses that we use, lead us into seduction and deception at a time when the truth has been achieved and, as it were, is already in our hands. This is the third thing that has been said that is useful to me and for which I do not find value. For my most sincere friend agrees with me not only in the presence of probabilities in human life, but also in religion itself; and this is the clearest sign of a true friend. For, according to the most precise and holy definition, friendship is a benevolent and loving agreement in things human and divine. 7. However, so that the arguments of the academicians do not seem to spread some fog, or so that it does not seem to others that we are proudly rebelling against the authority of the most learned men, among whom Tullius Cicero cannot but be especially close to our hearts, I will first, if you wish, enter into a short argument against those to whom the above conclusions seem contrary to the truth. Then, according to my opinion, I will show what reason the academicians had for hiding their views. So, Alypius, although I see you completely on my side, take their side for a while and argue with me. “Since today,” he answered, “you came out, as they say, with good omens, I will not interfere with your complete victory and will try, at your request, to take this side with greater calm; unless, however, you turn what you intend to do through questions into a monologue, so that with these small arrows you do not torment me, your already captive, as a truly stubborn opponent, which is completely inconsistent with your love of mankind. Noticing that others were also expecting this, I, as if making a new introduction, said: - I yield to your wishes. And although, after a certain labor in the field of rhetoric, I expected to find some rest in this easy exercise, explaining the matter more with questions than with speech, however, taking into account that, on the one hand, there are very few of us, and therefore I do not need to speak especially loudly, which would be harmful to my health, and on the other, that in this style, for the sake of the same health, I decided to have a kind of driver and restrainer for my speech, so as not to get into a more excited state of mind than required care of the body, I will state, according to your desire, in continuous speech what I think. But first of all, let us consider one circumstance that academic lovers are in the habit of especially boasting about. In the books of Cicero, written in defense of this doctrine, there is one passage that is presented, in my opinion, with amazing wit, and in the opinion of others - with particular force. Indeed, it is difficult to imagine that anyone would not be interested in what was said there, namely: that to the wise academician all the followers of other sects who seem wise to themselves assign second place, having assimilated the first place, naturally, each to himself. From which we can conclude that he will rightly, in his own judgment, be first, who, in the judgment of all others, is second. Imagine what a wise Stoic is (for it is mainly against them that the wit of the academicians is directed). And so, if you ask Zeno or Chrysippus who is wise, he will answer that the wise one is the one he describes. On the contrary, Epicurus or someone else from the opposite sect will deny this and will insist that the wise are the most skillful catcher of pleasures. It comes to an argument. Zeno shouts, and the whole so-called portico raises the alarm that man is born for nothing other than honesty, that it attracts souls to itself with its own brilliance, without any promise of any external benefits and without the lure of rewards; and the so-called pleasure of Epicurus is common to beasts only, and it is criminal to drag a person into communication with him. But this one, on the contrary, having summoned from the gardens to his aid a seemingly free crowd of drunken people, under the influence of wine, looking for someone to tear to pieces with untidy nails and a rough tongue, preaching to the people the primary importance of pleasure, pleasantness, peace, forcefully insists that without them no one can be blessed. An academician accidentally comes to their argument, listens to both, and each of them pulls him to his side. Whether he agreed with one side or the other, the side he left would declare him crazy, ignorant and reckless. But he will listen carefully to both, and when they ask him how it seems to him, he will answer that he doubts. After this, ask the Stoic: who is better, Epicurus, who declares him crazy, or the academician, who declares that he needs to think more about such an important subject? There is no doubt that the academician will be ranked higher. Then turn to the other and ask who he loves more: Zeno, who calls him an animal, or Archesilaus, from whom he hears: “You may be telling the truth, but I will examine this more carefully.” Is it not obvious that Epicurus considers the entire so-called portico insane, and the Academicians, in comparison with those people, modest and prudent? In this way, Cicero presents to the readers the most amusing spectacle regarding all sects, as if showing that there is no one in them who, having assimilated for himself, which is quite natural, the first place, would not assign the second to the one whom he sees not as rejecting, but only as doubting. In this sense, I will not contradict Cicero and do not take away any glory from them. But some rightly think that Cicero was not joking here, but wanted to collect and present in one essay some manifestations of nonsense and emptiness, not alien to the frivolity of the Greeks themselves. 8. Indeed, if I wanted to fight this boasting, nothing would stop me from showing with the most undoubted clarity that it is much less of an evil to be ignorant than to be unable to learn anything. After all, if this boastful academician were to appear to someone as a student, he would not be able to convince him of what he considers himself to know: he would simply be ridiculed. And each of the possible teachers will inevitably come to the conclusion that he cannot teach any of the academicians anything, and they, in turn, cannot learn anything. Therefore, in the end, they would be expelled from all schools not with rods, which would be more ugly than painful, but with the clubs and sticks of famous Greek scientists. For it is not very difficult to turn to the help of a kind of Herculean weapon of the cynics against a common ulcer. And if I decided to argue with them because of this most insignificant glory, which is very excusable for me, although a philosophizer, but not yet wise, what can they find that they can refute? Let’s imagine that the academician and I found ourselves in the described debate between philosophers. Everyone, depending on the circumstances, briefly states their opinions. They ask Carneades what he thinks. He replies that he doubts it. Because of this, each of them placed him above the others. And therefore everything is above everyone else. The glory is truly great and high. Who wouldn't want to imitate him? Therefore, when they ask me, I will answer the same. The praise will be equal. So, will the wise be comforted by the same glory as the fool? What if the stupid one even surpasses him? Wouldn't it be embarrassing? I will stop, for example, this academician when he is already leaving the court. After all, stupidity is more greedy for this kind of glory. So, by apprehending him, I will reveal to the judges what they do not know. I will tell them: respectable men, I have this in common with him, that we both doubt which of you adheres to the truth. But we also have our own special opinions, about which I ask your judgment. Although I, when I hear your main points, do not know on whose side the truth is, but this is because I do not know which of you is wise. But this one does not allow the wise to know anything, not excluding wisdom itself, from which it bears the name wise. Who is not clear who will get the palm? If my opponent confirms this, I will surpass him in glory. And if out of shame he admits that a wise man knows wisdom, I will defeat him by my way of thinking. 9 . But let us retire from this tribunal to some place where no crowd would disturb us - oh, if only to that school of Plato, which, they say, got its name from the fact that it was inaccessible to the people! Here, as far as it is in our power, we will talk among ourselves not about glory, which is frivolous and appropriate only for children, but about life itself and about some hope for spiritual bliss. Academics deny the possibility of knowing anything. Where do you get this conclusion, people devoted to science and the most learned? “We were shaken,” they say, “by Zeno’s definition.” Why is this so, I ask? After all, if it is true, then the one who at least knew this definition knew something true. And if it is false, then it should not have swayed the most constant people in any way. But let's see what Zeno says. It seems to him that only something can be known and perceived that does not have signs in common with the false. Is this what prompted you, a man of Plato’s school, to take away with all your might the hope of learning from those who want to learn, so that with the help of some lamentable mental numbness they would abandon all pursuit of philosophy? “But how could it not motivate him if he cannot find anything like this, and, meanwhile, can only perceive this?” But if this is so, then it would be better to say that wisdom is inaccessible to man than to say that the wise man does not know why he lives, does not know how he lives, does not know whether he lives, and finally, more falsely, more stupidly and more stupidly than anything can be imagined, that he is both wise and does not know wisdom. Isn't it stronger that a person cannot be wise than that a wise person does not know wisdom? There will be nothing to argue about if the matter is put in such a way that it does not require reasoning. “But if this is said, people may completely abandon philosophy; and now they must be led astray by the most pleasant and holy name of wisdom.” But for what? So that, having spent years of their life and not having learned anything, they would then shower you with terrible curses, following which they would be deprived of any bodily pleasures and acquired mental torment. But in reality, who is more likely to turn people away from philosophers? Is it the one who says: listen, my friend, what is called philosophy is not wisdom itself, but the love of wisdom; if you turn to it, then although you will not be wise while you live (for wisdom is with God and cannot be accessible to man), however, if you establish yourself sufficiently, then your spirit after this life, that is, when you cease to be a man, will undoubtedly possess it, or the one who would say: “Turn, mortals, to philosophy; there is great benefit in it. For what is more valuable to a person than wisdom? Turn to her to be wise, but wisdom, however, you will not recognize...” “I wouldn’t say that,” he says. But this means deceiving; because you have exactly this, and not anything else. Therefore, if you say this, they will distance themselves from you as if you were mad, and if you lead them to the same thing in another way, you will make them mad. But let us assume that, due to both opinions, people equally do not want to philosophize. Let Zeno's definition force us to say something harmful to philosophy. What should you say, my dear, to a person - something that will make him grieve for himself, or something that will make him laugh at you? However, as far as we can in our stupidity, let’s analyze Zeno’s definition. He says that it is possible to grasp with knowledge the image that appears in a way that a false image cannot appear. It is obvious that nothing else can be perceived. “And I look at this matter in the same way,” says Archesilaus, “and on this basis I teach that nothing can be perceived. Because nothing like this can be discovered.” Maybe you and other fools can’t do this. But why couldn’t a wise man do this? However, I believe that you could not answer even the stupidest person if he tells you that you, with your wonderful wit, refute this very definition of Zeno; if you are not able to do this, then for you it itself is the object of perception, and if you refute it, then there will be no reason for you not to allow perception. I see no way to refute it, and therefore I consider it completely true. Therefore, knowing him, although I am stupid, I still know something. But let it succumb to the resourcefulness of your mind. I will use the most reliable dilemma. This definition is either true or false. If it is true, then I justly hold to it; and if it is false, then something can be perceived, even if it has characteristics in common with the false. “Where from,” he will ask, “maybe?” In this case, Zeno defined it absolutely truly, and anyone who agreed with him at least on this point did not fall into error. Isn’t this a sufficient sign of the dignity and accuracy of a definition if, despite those who have objections to perception, it, designating what something that can be perceived is, shows itself to be the same? Therefore, it serves both as a definition of knowable objects and as an example of such objects. “Whether it is true,” he will answer, “it is itself, I don’t know.” But since it is probable, then, following it, I show that there is nothing that can be known.” You show it rather in spite of it and see for yourself what follows from this. For even if we are in doubt about it, then even in this case the knowledge does not leave us. We at least know that it is either true or false; therefore, we don’t know absolutely nothing. Although, personally, no conclusion will force me to be ungrateful, and I consider this definition to be completely true. For otherwise, they either can perceive what is false, and this is what the academicians are afraid of, or they cannot perceive even that which only looks like it is false; therefore the definition is true. But let's leave this and move on. 10. Although this, if I’m not mistaken, is already enough for victory, it will probably not be enough to become satiated with victory. Two positions are expressed by academicians, and we decided to oppose them. They are: nothing can be perceived and nothing should be trusted. About trust after; Now let's talk about perception. Are you saying that nothing at all can be known? At this question Carneades woke up (for none of them fell into a less deep sleep than he) and looked around at the obviousness of things. And so I imagine him, as it happens, saying as if to himself: “Are you, Carneades, (he asks himself) going to claim that you don’t know whether you are a man or an ant? After all, Chrysippus will probably triumph over you! Let's say that we do not know what philosophers are working to find, and the rest does not concern us. This is so that if I stumble in the light of everyday life and which represents the common property, I could send everyone to that ignorant darkness in which only the eyes of God see anything, and if anyone saw that I stumbled and fell, he would not be able to imagine me as blind and disdainful of philosophy! Oh, insidious Greek foresight! You perform magnificently, belted, equipped, without losing sight of the fact that this definition is the discovery of a philosopher, that it was posed and approved at the very threshold of philosophy. If you try to cut him down, the double-edged ax will rebound and hit his shin, because if it is shaken, this will mean that not only something can be perceived, but something that is very similar to a lie can also be subject to perception; If you do not dare to overthrow it because it serves as a hole for you, from which you madly jump out and pounce on unwary passers-by, then some Hercules will strangle you, like the half-man Cacus in your cave, and with its mass will overwhelm you for edification that there is something in philosophy that, as similar to false, could not be unknown to you. However, I will hasten to move on to the rest. The one who encourages me to do this inflicts a great insult on you personally, Carneades, because he thinks that I will win a victory over you, the dead one, no matter from which side and no matter what I attack. If he doesn’t think this, then he is merciless, forcing me to come out of the fortifications and fight with you in the open field, because, having begun to leave them, I retreated back, frightened by your name alone, and I don’t know how many arrows I threw at you from an elevated place. Those under whose supervision we fought saw whether they reached you and what they did. But what am I afraid of, ridiculous one? If my memory serves me right, you died, and Alypius is no longer rightfully defending your grave; Against your shadow, God will easily help me. You say that in the field of philosophy nothing can be perceived. And in order to give your speech a wider development, you seize on the disputes and disagreements of philosophers and think that these disagreements give you a weapon against them. Indeed, how can we analyze the dispute between Democritus and the physicists who came before him about the one and countless worlds, when agreement could not be maintained between himself and his successor Epicurus? For this lover of luxury, who allowed the atoms, like young maidservants (that is, the little bodies that he, enjoying, caught in the darkness), not to stick to their path, but to deviate here and there quite arbitrarily, squandered all the family property through litigation. But that doesn't concern me at all. For if knowledge of something of this kind relates to wisdom, it cannot be hidden from the wise. And if wisdom is something else, then the wise man knows it, and even despises it. However, although I am still far from being a wise man, I understand something about these physical objects. So I know that the world is either one or not one; and if not one, then the number of worlds is either definite or infinite. Let Carneades show that this position appears to be false. In the same way, I know that this world of ours received such a structure either due to the nature of bodies, or by the will of some providence: and that it either was and will always be, or, having begun its existence, will not cease to be, or, having no beginning in time, will have an end in it, or, as it began its existence, will not remain forever; and I have countless amounts of this kind of physical information. This kind of truth is presented completely separately, and no one can confuse them with any similarity with a lie. “But take one thing from what was said,” says the academician. Don't want. Because it means: give up what you know and say what you don’t know. “But judgment wavers.” Indeed, it fluctuates rather than falls, because it is stated clearly and can be called either false or true. I claim to know him. And you, who do not deny that objects of this kind belong to philosophy and at the same time claim that none of this can be known, prove that I do not know this. Say that these divisions are false, because of which they cannot be distinguished at all. 11. “How,” he will say, “do you know that this world exists if the senses are deceived?” Your evidence could never undermine the meaning of the senses to such an extent that you would convince us that we see nothing. Yes, you absolutely never dared to make attempts of this kind, but with special effort tried to convince that it could be different than it seems. So, this is all, whatever it is, what contains us, what nourishes us, all this, I say, what appears to my eyes, what is felt by me - has earth and heaven, or, as it were, earth and as if heaven, I call the world. If you say: “I don’t see anything, I will not be mistaken. For he who makes an unfounded judgment about what seems to him is in error.” But you say that those who feel can see what is false, and do not say that they see nothing. The entire field of competition in which you want to dominate would be completely destroyed if we not only knew nothing, but also thought nothing to us. If you deny that what appears to me is the world, then you make the name a subject of dispute, since I call it the world. “Is it really,” you say, “the world is exactly as you see it when you sleep?” It has already been said that I call everything that seems to me world world. But if you want to call the world only that which is seen by those who are awake and only by the healthy, then prove, if you can, that those who are asleep or insane go mad and do not sleep in the world. In this sense, I say that this entire mass of bodies in which we exist, sleepy or crazy, awake or healthy, either alone or not alone. Explain how this statement could be false. If I'm sleeping, it may happen that I won't say anything; or if words come out of the mouth of a sleeping person, as usually happens, it may happen that I say it not here, not sitting like this, not out loud; but for this to be false, it cannot be. Therefore, I do not say that I would perceive it, because I am awake. You can say that this could seem to me and sleepy, and therefore it may be very similar to false. But if there is one world and six more, then, no matter what state I am in, there are obviously seven worlds, and I do not shamelessly claim that I know this. Prove to me that this conclusion or the above logical propositions may be false due to sleep, or madness, or the deceitfulness of the senses; then, if upon awakening I remember them, I admit myself defeated. I consider that what may seem false due to sleep or madness has already been sufficiently explained; this is what relates to bodily feelings. For that three times three is nine, and is an indispensable square of abstract numbers, will be true even at the time when the human race plunges into deep sleep. Although I find it possible to say a lot about the feelings themselves that cannot be refuted by academics. For I do not think that the senses are to blame for the fact that madmen receive false ideas, or that we see false things in our dreams. If they convey the truth while awake and healthy, then whatever the soul of a sleeping and madden person might imagine, this does not concern them. It remains to be investigated whether they convey the truth when they actually convey something. Imagine that some Epicurean would say: “I have nothing to blame on the senses. For it is unfair to demand more from them than what they can give us; as far as the eyes can see, they see the truth.” So is it really true what they see about the oar in the water? “Absolutely true. For, if there is a reason why it should appear so, then I would rather blame my eyes for giving false information if the oar immersed in water seemed straight, since then they would not see what, given the existence of such reasons, should have been seen. Is it worth continuing? The same can be said about the movement of high towers, the same about the wings of birds, the same about everything else. “But I’m still being deceived if I trust,” someone will say. Do not trust more than necessary to convince yourself that it seems so to you, and there will be no seduction. I don’t see how an academic will refute someone who says, “I know it looks white to me; I know that this delights my ears; I know it smells good to me; I know it's sweet for my taste; I know it’s cold for me.” Tell me better, are the wild olive leaves themselves bitter, to which the goat is so stubbornly drawn? Oh, human impudence! Isn't the goat himself more modest than you? What they are like for cattle, I don’t know; but for me they are bitter. What are you striving for more of? “But perhaps there are some people who are not bitter about them?” Aren't you asking for trouble? Did I say that they are bitter for everyone; I said that they are bitter for me, and this, of course, is not unconditional. For under changed conditions, what is now sweet may taste bitter in the mouth. I maintain that a man, when he tastes something, can conscientiously swear that he knows that it is pleasant or unpleasant to his palate, and that no Greek trick will distract him from this knowledge. Who would be so shameless as to say to me when I allow myself some delicacy for my pleasure: “Maybe you don’t eat at all, but this is just a dream!” Will I stop? Let this at least give me pleasure in my dreams. Therefore, what I said I know will not be confused by any semblance of falsehood. Both Epicurus and the Cyrenaics, perhaps, say many other things in favor of feelings, which, as far as I know, the Academicians said nothing against. But so what? If they want and if they can, let them refute it, even with my help. Whatever they say against the senses is of no force against all philosophers. Among them there are those who recognize that everything that the soul perceives through the bodily senses can generate knowledge. They believe that this knowledge is contained in the concept and lives in the mind, removed from the senses. Perhaps among them is the wise one we are looking for. But more on that later. Now let's move on to what's next, which, in view of what has already been said, will require some clarification from me, if I'm not mistaken. 12. What does the bodily sense help or hinder when examining the question of good morals? If those who believed that the highest good of man is in pleasure, neither the neck of a dove, nor the unaccountable voice, nor the great burden for man of what is easy for camels, do not prevent them from asserting that they know that they really enjoy what they enjoy, or receive pain from what causes them pain (which I do not intend to deny), then will they shake him who believes that the highest good is in the mind? Which of these two do you hold on to? If you ask how it seems to me, then I believe that the highest good of man is in the mind. But in this case the question is about knowledge. Therefore, ask a wise man, who cannot help but know wisdom, although, however, it is also permissible for me, stupid and stupid, to know that the top of human good, with which a blessed life is connected, either does not exist at all, or is located in the soul, or in the body, or in both. If you can, accuse me of ignorance of this, since your notorious arguments in no way do this. But if you cannot do this, because you do not find what kind of lie it resembles, then will I hesitate to conclude that it rightly seems to me that the wise man knows: there is something true in philosophy, if I also managed to learn so much true from it? But maybe he is afraid that the choice of the highest good will not be made while sleeping? There is nothing dangerous: when he wakes up, he will reject it if he doesn’t like it, and keep it if he likes it. For who, without violating justice, will reproach him for seeing something false in a dream? Or will he be horrified that the sleeper will lose wisdom if he accepts a lie as the truth? This time, although he is not sleeping, he dares to affirm nonsense, calling the one who is awake wise, and denying his wisdom if he is asleep. All this can be said about madness; but speech hurries to something else. However, I will not leave this without the truest conclusion. Either wisdom is lost in a state of madness, in which case the one whom you declare ignorant of the truth will not be wise, or the knowledge of it remains in his mind, although the rest of the soul imagines everything that it receives from the senses as if in dreams. 13. What remains is dialectics, which the truly wise know well and which anyone can know without falling into error. If the wise man does not know it, then knowledge of it does not belong to wisdom, since even without it he could be wise, and then it is unnecessary for us to find out whether it is true and whether it can be known. In this case, maybe someone will tell me: “You, fool, have the habit of exaggerating your knowledge. Could you ever learn anything about dialectics? Much more than from any other part of philosophy. Firstly, it was she who taught me that all the above provisions that I used were true. Then, through her I learned many other true things. And how many there are, count them if you can. If there are four elements in the world, then there are not five. If there is one sun, then there are not two. The same soul cannot die and be immortal. A person cannot be both blessed and unhappy at the same time. In this place the sun cannot shine and it cannot be night. Either we are awake or we are sleeping. What I think I see is either a body or not a body. All this and much more, which would take too long to remember, I learned from her as true, and no matter what state our feelings were in, as true in itself. She taught me that if the part preceding in the provisions I have just stated is recognized, then it will necessarily entail what is connected with it. And what I have presented in the form of oppositions or divisions has the property that, as soon as the rest is rejected, whether one or many, something remains that will receive confirmation through the elimination of the rest. She also taught me that when the object for which words are used is clear, then there should be no arguing about words. And if someone does this, then if he does it out of inexperience, he should be admonished, but if he does it with bad intentions, we should leave him. If he cannot come to his senses, he should be advised not to waste time on trifles; and if he does not listen, he should be neglected. Regarding sophistic and false conclusions, the rule is short: if they are cunningly based on a concession made, the concession given should be returned, but if truth and falsehood are combined in one conclusion, one must take from it what is subject to understanding, and what cannot be unraveled should be discarded. If, in relation to any objects, his boundaries elude a person, he should not seek knowledge of them. I have all this from dialectics, as well as much more, which is not necessary to mention. I shouldn't be ungrateful. But the wise man either neglects this, or, if dialectics really is the very knowledge of truth, knows it in such a way that with contempt and without compassion he will starve to death their complaint about common sense: if it is true, then it is false; if false, then true. I think this is sufficient about perception, because when I start talking about trust, I will have to return to all this again. 14. So, let us now move on to that side of the subject about which Alypius still remains doubtful. And, firstly, let us consider the properties of what makes you hesitate, a perceptive and most circumspect person. You said: “If the opinion of the Academicians, who believed that the wise man does not know wisdom, confirmed by so many and such proofs, is overthrown by such considerations as force us to recognize it as much more probable that the wise man knows wisdom, then this should dissuade us from trusting even more. For this in itself proves that there is no opinion, no matter how numerous and accurate evidence it is furnished, to which, from the opposite point of view, a gifted person would not present a more or less witty refutation. Therefore, the academician, being defeated, will turn out to be the winner...” Oh, to defeat him! Even if he mastered the art of Pelasgus, he would not be able to leave me at the same time defeated and victorious! If it were not possible to argue anything else against this, I would willingly admit myself defeated. For we are not talking about acquiring glory, but about discovering the truth. For me it is enough to somehow step over this bulk, which stands in the way of those entering philosophy, and, darkened by who knows what nooks and crannies, threatens that all philosophy is like this, and does not allow one to hope to find any light in it. I cannot even have desires for anything more if the probability is reached that the wise man knows something. For if it seems probable that a wise man should refrain from trusting, it is only because it was probable that he could not know anything. Once this is removed (since the concession is made that the wise man knows at least wisdom itself), there remains no reason why the wise man should not trust at least wisdom itself. For there is no doubt that it is much more monstrous to represent a wise man who disapproves of wisdom than a wise man who does not know the truth. I ask you to imagine the following spectacle: there is some kind of dispute between the wise and wisdom. What can wisdom assert but that it is wisdom? And he, imagine, says: “I don’t believe it.” Who says to wisdom: “I don’t believe that you are wisdom”? The one with whom she could talk and whom she had the honor of living in it, that is, the wise one! Go now and look for me, who is fighting with the academicians: you will already encounter a new battle: the wise and wisdom are fighting among themselves. The wise man does not want to sympathize with wisdom. I'm calmly waiting for the end with you. For who is not sure that wisdom is invincible? However, let us protect ourselves from some dilemma. In this battle, either the academician will defeat wisdom, and in this case he will be defeated by me, since he will not be wise, or he will be defeated by wisdom, in which case we will prove that the wise sympathize with wisdom. So, either the academician is not wise, or the wise person trusts something; Can he who is ashamed to say that a wise man does not know wisdom not be ashamed to say that a wise man does not sympathize with wisdom? But if it is already plausible that the wise man has knowledge of at least wisdom, and there is no reason why he should not trust what he can know, then I find it plausible what I wanted, that is, that the wise man will trust wisdom. If you ask where he will find this wisdom, I will answer: in himself. If you say that he does not know what he has, you will return to the absurdity that a wise man does not know wisdom. If you deny the possibility of finding the wisest, then we will discuss this in another speech, not with academicians, but with you, who thinks so. For when they reason about this, they reason precisely about the wise. Cicero calls himself exclusively a man of opinions (assumptions), but regarding the wise he makes this the subject of his research. If this is still unfamiliar to you, young men, then you can read in “Hortensia”: “So, if there is nothing certain, and it is indecent for the wise to be content with the opinion, then the wise will never assert anything.” From this it is obvious that in their reasoning, which we oppose, they speak of the wise. So, I believe that the wise man knows wisdom, that is, that the wise man has received wisdom. And therefore, when he trusts wisdom, he does not limit himself to fortune telling. For he trusts that which he would not be wise if he did not accept it. Yes, and they argue that one should not trust only such things that cannot be perceived. Wisdom is not nothing. So, if a wise man both knows wisdom and trusts in wisdom, then he does not know nothing and trusts not a non-existent thing. What would you like more? Shall we talk a little about the error that they believe to avoid if the soul does not incline trust to any object? For, they say, anyone who approves not only a false thing, but also a doubtful one, is mistaken, even if it were true; We find nothing certain. It is not the wise man, as we said, who finds wisdom. 15. But perhaps you want me to leave it. People are reluctant to leave safe places when dealing with wicked people. Nevertheless, I obey you. But what will I say then? What and how? Of course, he must say the old things, to which they also have something to answer. What, in fact, will I do, whom you have driven out of my camp? Shall I turn for help to the most learned people, with whom, perhaps, if I fail to win, it will be less shameful to remain defeated? So, I will throw, as far as I can, a spear, albeit smoky and of rough work, but, if I am not mistaken, the largest: “He who does not affirm anything does nothing; and where did you get this, ignorant person, probable? where does the truth-like come from? Our wish has been fulfilled: do you hear the sound of the Greek shields!? They took the blow from our massive spear. My assistants did not deliver anything more effective to me; and, as I see, we did not inflict any wound. I will turn to what the village and the field serve me: what is more important burdens me rather than supports me. When in this village I pondered for a long time in my leisure time how this probable and true-like thing could protect our actions from error, it seemed to me at first, as it usually seemed when I supported this opinion, that the covering and fence this provided was excellent. But then, when I thought about everything more carefully, it seemed to me that I saw another opening through which delusion breaks in to those who consider themselves safe. I believe that not only the one who follows the false path is mistaken, but also the one who does not follow the true path. Let's imagine two travelers heading to the same place, one of whom has made it a rule not to believe anything, and the other is gullible to the extreme. They arrived at a place where the road forks. The trusting person turns to the shepherd or some other villager who happened to be here: “Hello, good man! Tell me, please, which road should I take to such and such a place?” He replies: “If you follow this path, you won’t get lost.” Then he said to his companion: “He speaks the truth; Let's go with this one." The cautious husband laughs and makes fun of such gullibility in the most amusing way, and when the first leaves, he himself remains at a crossroads. After a while, it begins to seem indecent to him to stand, and then a certain elegantly dressed and seemingly educated horseman appears from another branch of the road and begins to approach. The traveler, of course, is incredibly happy. When the rider approaches, he, having greeted him, tells him where he is going and asks about the road, telling at the same time about the reason for his stop, in order to place him in greater favor for preferring him to the shepherd. And it so happened that he was one of those buffoons whom people call Samardaks. The worthless man remained faithful to his craft, even for free. “Go this way,” he says, “I’m coming from there.” He cheated and left. But will our glorious hero ever be deceived? “I do not recognize,” he argues, “this indication as true; but I consider it true. Moreover, staying here any longer is both indecent and useless; I will go this way." And so, while the one who was mistaken in trust, immediately accepting the words of the shepherd as truth, was already resting in the place where he was going, this one who is not mistaken, although guided by the probable, travels through who knows what forests and no longer meets such a person who would know the very place where he intended to go. I’ll tell you frankly, when I imagined this, I couldn’t help laughing that academicians somehow make up the idea that the one who walks the straight path, even if by accident, gets lost, but the one who is led by impassable mountains and who does not find the country where he is striving, turns out not to be mistaken. If reckless trust deserves just condemnation, then both of them are more likely to be mistaken than this one is not mistaken. After that, I began to more carefully compare human actions and morals with their opinions. But then so many things came to my mind and so important against them that I no longer laughed, but was partly indignant, partly grieved that the most learned and gifted people had indulged in such crimes of thought and such shameful deeds. 16. It is perhaps true that not everyone who errs sins; however, everyone who sins, or allows himself to be mistaken, or does something worse. Let us imagine that some young man heard them reasoning like this: “It is shameful to be mistaken, and therefore we should not agree with anything. However, he does not sin or go astray who does what seems probable to him. Let him only remember one thing: he must not accept as truth anything that appears to his soul or feelings.” So, the young man will hear this and encroach on the chastity of another man’s wife. I ask your opinion on this subject, Marcus Tullius: we are discussing the rights of young men and their life, to the education and regulation of which all your works are devoted. What else can you say but that it is incredible to you that a young man would do such a thing? But it's possible for him. For if we lived on the basis of someone else's probable, then you should not have ruled the republic, because it seemed to Epicurus that this should not be done. So, that young man dishonored another man's wife. Where then, if he is caught in a crime, will he find you who would protect him; and if you did find it, what would you say then? You will, of course, deny what you did. But what if the matter is so clear that denial will be in vain? You will, without a doubt, begin to convince, as in the Cuman gymnasium, and before that time in the Neapolitan one, that he has not sinned in any way and has not even fallen into error in the essence of the matter. Because he did not convince himself, as in truth, that he should have committed adultery, but presented it to himself as probable, followed it and did it; or maybe he didn’t, but it seemed to him that he did. And this husband, a stupid man, confuses everything in his complaints, standing up for the honor of his wife, with whom he may be sleeping now, but does not know it. If the judges understand this, they will either ignore the academicians and show the crime as quite real, or, having listened to them themselves, they will condemn the person plausibly and probably, so that this patron himself will not know what to do next. He will have no one to be angry with, because everyone will tell him that they were not mistaken, since, not trusting anything, they acted as they thought probable. And so he will put aside the guise of a patron, and take on the guise of a philosopher-comforter; and a young man who has already shown such success at the academy can easily be convinced to consider himself condemned as if in a dream. But you think I'm joking. I am ready to swear to everything divine that I absolutely do not know how he will sin, if no one sins who does what seems probable to him. Perhaps they will say that being completely mistaken is one thing, but sinning is something else entirely, and that they preach certain rules so that we do not go astray, but consider sin to be an important matter. I am silent about murder, lese majeste, sacrilege, about all generally shameful deeds and crimes that can be committed or planned and which, what is especially serious, are justified by the wisest judges with a few words: “I did not sympathize with this in my soul and therefore did not make a mistake.” But how could I not do this if it seemed probable to me? And whoever does not think that this can be seen as probable, let them read Catalina’s speech, in which he urges them to set out for the destruction of the fatherland, a cause that contains all the crimes at once. Who wouldn't laugh at what was said before? They themselves say that in their actions they follow only the probable, but they seek in every possible way the truth when it is probable that it cannot be found. Amazing monstrosity! But let's leave it at that. It does not concern us, is not particularly important for our lives, and does not threaten our well-being. This is dangerous, this is strange, this should inspire horror in every honest person: if the indicated view is accepted as probable, then any crime, if it seems probable to someone that it should be committed, he will commit it, without being reproached not only for the crime, but also for the error, as long as he does not sympathize with it as the truth. So what? Didn't they see this? No, they saw it as insightfully and comprehensively as possible. I will in no way allow myself to think that I can in any way keep up with Marcus Tullius in terms of art, vigilance, talents, and learning. However, if, when he argued that a person cannot know anything, they had said only one thing: “I know that it seems so to me,” he would not have found how to refute it. 17. So, why did such men decide to conduct business with constant and persistent disputes in such a way that it seemed that knowledge of the truth was inaccessible to anyone? Now listen a little more carefully, not to what I know, but to what I think; I have reserved this for the end in order to explain to you, if I am able, the general goal that, in my opinion, the academicians had in mind, about Plato, that wisest and most learned man of his time, who said that whatever he said was great, and said such things that no matter how he expressed it, it was not small, about this Plato they say that after the death of his teacher Socrates, whom he especially loved, he studied many things from the Pythagoreans. Pythagoras, dissatisfied with Greek philosophy, which at that time either hardly existed or was kept in too much secrecy, listened, traveling everywhere, to many wise men after, under the influence of the reasoning of a certain Pherecydes, he came to the conviction that the soul is immortal. So, they say that Plato, adding to the Socratic attractiveness and subtlety that he expressed in moral reasoning, the knowledge of natural and divine things, which he diligently acquired from those whom I have mentioned, and, adding to this, as it were, the educator and judge of the said parts of philosophy, dialectics, which either itself is wisdom, or is such that without it wisdom is absolutely impossible, constituted a most perfect system of philosophy, about which, however, one cannot enter into reasoning in present tense is inappropriate. For my purpose it is enough to say that Plato thought that there were two worlds: one subject to mental understanding, the other subject to the senses, obviously the one that we perceive through sight and touch. He considered the first to be true, and the second to be true and created in the image of the first. And therefore he imagined that in a self-conscious soul the truth, as it were, is purified and clarified from that world, and in the souls of fools, not knowledge, but opinion, can be born from this world. And what is accomplished in this world by the power of those virtues that he called civil, similar to true virtues, unknown to anyone except a few wise ones, then, he thought, can only be called true-like. All this and much more among his followers, it seems to me, was observed and preserved as much as possible as a sacrament. This is either because it is easily learned only by those who, having cleansed themselves of all vices, lead a different, more than human way of life, or because the one who, knowing this, would like to teach this to everyone he meets, sins gravely. Therefore, I assume that when Zeno, the head of the Stoics, came to the school left by Plato, which was then supported by Polemon, he came after he had already listened to some and treated their teaching with confidence, he was received with suspicion and was not considered one to whom the mentioned teaching of Plato, as if some sacred dogmas, should immediately be revealed and entrusted before he forgot what he brought to this school from the outside, borrowed from others. Polemon dies. He is succeeded by Archesilaus, although a fellow student of Zeno, but with the teaching knowledge of Polemon. Therefore, when Zeno began to be carried away by his opinion about the world and especially about the soul, which is the subject of care for true philosophy, saying that it is mortal, that apart from this sensory world there is nothing and that only bodily forces act in it, since he represented God himself as fire, then Archesilaus, when this evil little by little spread widely, in my opinion, very wisely and with great benefit, decisively hid the opinion of the academy and buried it as if it were gold, which descendants were supposed to find someday. And since the crowd is very prone to jump into false opinions, and out of habit of the physical, it is very easy, but with harm, to form the conviction that everything is physical, the most witty and most humane man set himself the goal of better unlearning the poorly taught, whom he received, than teaching those whom he considered incapable of learning. This is where everything that is attributed to the new academy was born, since the ancients had no need for this. If Zeno had woken up in time and seen that both that which he defined could be subject to knowledge, and that which could not be found in the affairs of which he had mastered everything, then this kind of controversy, aroused by extreme necessity, would have stopped long ago. But Zeno, under the guise of imaginary constancy, was, as it seemed to the academicians themselves and as it seems to me, stubborn; and this destructive belief in the corporeal survived as best it could until Chrysippus, who, as a very strong man, was ready to give it great means for widespread dissemination, if, on the other hand, Carneades, who was more witty and vigilant than all his predecessors, had not opposed it with such a rebuff that I am surprised that after that this opinion could still have any strength. For Carneades, first of all, abandoned that shameless reproach with which, as he saw, Archesilaus had greatly disgraced himself - he refused so as not to create the impression that he wanted to contradict everything out of vanity - but set as his task the refutation of the Stoics and Chrysippus. 18. Further, since he would have been attacked from all sides for the fact that a wise man, if he did not trust anything, would not do anything, he (a truly amazing man, or, perhaps, not surprising because he came from the very foundations of Plato’s philosophy) very wisely drew attention to the properties of those actions that they approved, and, considering them as similar to some kind of truth, he called truth-like everything that should have guided human activity in this world. He knew perfectly well what this was like, but he wisely hid it and also called it probable. After all, he has an understanding of the image who sees its imitation. For how would a wise man approve, or how would he follow the likeness of truth, if he did not know what truth itself is? So, they knew and approved of the false, in which they saw a praiseworthy imitation of true objects. But, since it was criminal and inconvenient to reveal this to the uninitiated, they left it to posterity, and in due time they showed signs of their opinion to those to whom they could. They forbade the latter, excellent dialecticians, with jokes and ridicule to initiate disputes over words. That is why they say about Carneades that he was the head and founder of even the third academy. This clash then continued until our Tullius, but it was already completely weakened and was about to breathe its last breath into Latin literature. However, by these winds, it seems to me, the famous Platonist Antiochus, made of hay, was sufficiently carried away and scattered (for the herds of Epicureans made goat stalls in the souls of voluptuous peoples). This Antiochus was a listener of Philo, a prudent man, as far as I heard, who was already beginning to open the doors to enemies who had renounced their opinions and return the academy to the teachings and laws of Plato. Before him, Metrodorus also tried to do this, about whom they say that he was the first to admit that the impossibility of knowledge is not the main position of the Academicians, but that they adopted this kind of weapon out of necessity against the Stoics. So, Antiochus, as I began to say, being a student at the academy of Philo and Mnesarchus the Stoic, made his way into the ancient academy, as if it had no defenders, and in the absence of enemies, and carefree, he made his way as an associate and a citizen, at the same time introducing some kind of defilement from the ashes of the Stoics, with which he insulted the shrine of Plato. Then, again seizing his former weapon, Philo resisted him until he died, and our Tullius finished what he left behind, unable to watch with indifference how the object of his love was overthrown and desecrated. After a short period of time after all stubbornness and perseverance ceased, the purest and brightest face of Plato in philosophy, parting the clouds of error, shone forth, especially in Plotinus. This philosopher was a Platonist to such an extent that he was recognized as similar to Plato; it seemed as if they lived together, and in view of the huge period of time separating them, that one came to life in the other. 19. Nowadays we hardly see any other philosophers except the Cynics, Peripatetics, and Platonists. And cynics, by the way, because they enjoy a certain freedom and licentiousness in life. As for the doctrine, the basic philosophical principles and those morals that are recognized as useful for the soul, there were such insightful men who, through their reasoning, realized that Aristotle and Plato agree with each other so much that they seem to contradict only ignorant and inattentive people. Therefore, although it took many centuries and lengthy disputes, it seems to me that one system of the truest philosophy has finally been developed. This philosophy is not the philosophy of the sensory world, from which our religion rightly turns away, but the philosophy of the other, the intelligible. The most subtle mind would never have called souls into this world, blinded by the darkness of error and covered with thick layers of bodily dirt, if the Supreme God, out of some mercy towards the people, had not inclined and lowered the heights of the divine mind to the human body itself, so that souls, excited not only by His commandments, but also by His deeds, could enter into themselves and, without any special competition, direct their gaze to their homeland. 20. These are my beliefs regarding the academicians, whom I came to believe were as probable as I could. If they are false, I don't care; For me it is enough not to think so that a person cannot find the truth. Anyone who believes that the academicians thought exactly this way should listen to Cicero himself. For he says that they used to hide their opinions, and if they revealed it, it was only to those with whom they lived together until old age. What this opinion was, God alone knows; but I believe that this was Plato's opinion. To convey to you briefly my entire general thought, I will say that no matter what the state of human wisdom may be, I do not yet consider myself to have comprehended it. But being thirty-three years old, I believe that I should not despair of ever acquiring it. At least, having despised everything else that mortals recognize as good, I decided to devote myself entirely to studying it, and since I was distracted from this matter by the conclusions of academicians, I think that I sufficiently protected myself from them with this reasoning. No one doubts that we are driven to learn by a double force: the power of authority and the power of reason. But one thing has been decided for me: that I will never deviate from the authority of Christ, for I do not find a stronger one. As for the investigations of pure reason, I am already so determined that if I especially strongly wished to understand something true not only by faith, but also by understanding, I am convinced that I will find it among the Platonists, while it does not contradict our religion. When I finished my speech, it was already night and something was written down with the lamp brought in. However, our young men waited with intense attention to see if Alypius would promise to answer it at least the next day. Then he said: – I am ready to assert that nothing has ever happened so in accordance with my desire as the fact that I emerge from a real competition defeated; and I think that this joy should not be only my joy. I will share it with you, my competitors and our judges. Of course, the academicians themselves wanted their descendants to be defeated under such conditions. And what can seem or seem more pleasant to us than this grace of speech, more thoughtful than this seriousness of judgment, more favorable goodwill, more experienced knowledge? I absolutely cannot be surprised with what subtlety difficult questions were dealt with, with what courage those hopeless for solutions were solved, with what modesty - incontestably proven ones, with what clarity - dark ones. Therefore, your impatience, with which you, my friends, challenged me to respond, turn with me to the pursuit of science, with more certain hope this time. We have such a leader who, at the direction of God, will lead us into the very recesses of truth. Then I, noticing from the expression of their faces that they were, as it were, deceived in their childish expectation, to which Alypiy clearly refused to answer, said smiling: -You are jealous that I am praised. But since I am already confident in Alypius’s constancy and am not at all afraid of him, so that you too thank me, I will give you a weapon against him for offending the feeling of your confident expectation. Read the academics, and when you find there (and what could be easier than that?) that Cicero triumphs over these trifles, then force him to defend this speech of ours against those invincible arguments. I punish you so much, Alypius, for your false praises to me! They laughed and our argument came to an end. I don’t know if it’s durable, but it’s modest and faster than I had hoped. You might be interested in: