Epicureos numquam assequi finem suum
The Illusion of Epicurean Tranquility
The author argues that those who pursue pleasure as their ultimate goal are fundamentally incapable of achieving true peace.
Unless a contentious person chooses to ignore what reason nevertheless does not permit to be ignored, it is clearer than light from the preceding points that Epicureans never attain their goal. Since they aspire to a tranquil life and philosophize—or rather, act foolishly—to satisfy their lust (because no one can wisely fulfill what is wrongly desired), no one attains this through these streams of Babylon. I also consider those to be labeled Epicureans who want to fulfill their own will in everything. For when things serve lust, the heart's desire turns into mere pleasure. If your heart's desire doesn't obey your heart's desire, the more you want it, the more you're tormented, provided that the lust remains in your will. Otherwise, sometimes wanting what you cannot have is pleasant and fruitful; for instance, if you hunger and thirst for righteousness, it's laborious, yet still fruitful. The world, therefore, is full of Epicureans, because in such a great multitude of people, there are few who don't serve lust—that is, a corrupted will—and those not entangled in the bonds of a laborious will are either non-existent or very few. Man has been excluded from the place of pleasure ever since lust prevailed, because anyone whom lust has begun to dominate cannot enjoy a pleasant and tranquil life.
The Burden of a Corrupted Will
Humanity's fall from grace introduced labor and sorrow into the human experience, making the pursuit of virtue a difficult task requiring divine aid.
He chose to do what he liked rather than what he was commanded, and so he was cast into a place of misery and sent into a land of labor, so that the earth might bring forth thorns and thistles for him and his offspring, and that he might eat his bread by the sweat of his brow—he who, in the uprightness of his will, could have enjoyed full pleasure in obedience without difficulty or labor. He had found everything ready for his needs and his pleasure. The word 'face' (vultus), as those who curiously examine the origin of words like to say, is derived from 'willing' (volendo); and its sweat indicates the labor and distress of a corrupted will. If, therefore, one must sweat for that which strengthens the human heart, and even for taking what brings joy, why does mortal nature believe it has been granted something without labor? The soul recalls the word spoken to the mother of us all, the sinner, which the Creator’s judgment turned against her. It brings forth in sorrow the children of virtues, which it brings forth without labor as the offspring of vices. For a sinful nature is prone to evil and corrupted from its youth—an age that borders on its origin—so that it can slip without labor or difficulty, yet cannot be raised to good without labor, nor stand upright without difficulty and grace. It brings forth vices—daughters, certainly, not sons—without sorrow, but undoubtedly leading to sorrow; but it brings forth the children of virtues in sorrow, yet clearly leading to joy, not sorrow.
The Vanity of Worldly Pursuits
Worldly desires lead only to anxiety and emptiness, blinding the soul to the higher calling of divine contemplation.
The Epicurean, therefore, lives in pain; his life produces only sons or daughters of sorrow, and he is always groaning over anxieties, whether present or future. To say nothing of other things, he either finds no joy in the present, or—if he isn't blind—he measures the outcome of events and laments them as things that are passing away and fleeing from him. For it is denied to the joyful to stand firm, unless one finds joy in those things that make a person blessed or that lead to eternal life. This world passes away, along with all its desirable things; no matter how much it may flatter the unwary and offer its sweet, deceptive enticements, its end is more bitter than any wormwood. And because reason proves that his present state is entirely imperfect, I don't know what solid thing he can always promise himself for the future, since he has never led any of his lovers and followers to perfection from the start, nor has he ever made anyone truly satisfied. This is why the greedy person hungers in the midst of wealth, the powerful person serves while sitting on the highest throne, the person in deep luxury is tormented by the lack of true joy, and the seeker of fame and favor becomes worthless in the very swelling of his pride. Anyone who doesn't see this is blind indeed, since everyone who lives in these things admits that they lack what they crave. Yet there are some whose eyes malice has so blinded that they cannot see what shines by its own light. Like moles blinded in their eyes, they don't recognize the gift of light; they delight in their native darkness, hate the purer air, and cannot live if they are kept away from the dirt and their own hiding places for too long. Don't those who always live in the dirt act like moles? Their whole way of life is dragged down into the earth, so they have no taste for anything high or divine—or even for what's human. Yet, while other animals are naturally bent toward the ground, humans are designed with a dignity of body and soul to look up and contemplate heaven and the things that are heavenly. Still, these people are weighed down by a kind of natural flaw, just like moles. Certainly, someone stained by guilt is in a worse state than someone who simply struggles under the limitations of nature. And don't think that someone is wise in the ways of the spirit just because they want to outdo their peers not in virtue, but in vice. But why do I criticize the blindness of this flock of moles, except that it seems to be the source of all the others? For from it flow streams of vices, so that you might see gathered together in one body the rapacity of a lion, the cruelty of a tiger, the gluttony of a wolf, the fickleness of a leopard, the cunning of a fox, the greed of a harpy, the filth of a pig, the lechery of a goat, the pride of a horse, the stupidity of a donkey, the stubbornness of a mule, and the poison of a hydra—a darkness like the one God had created. Man spoke innocently of the wonders of God, but from the moment he became too talkative, led through the gateway of curiosity, he engaged in conversation with the tempter. Like an adolescent from infancy, he swelled up with a heat he had conceived and broke the command whose keeping would have led to glory. He became corrupted, so that from then on, by the wondrous and invincible law of the condition inflicted upon him, the union of flesh and spirit struggles against itself, so that they cannot be reconciled by any reason, unless the grace of Him who made both one intervenes—He who will, in the end of the elect, cause the flesh to be absorbed by the spirit. If it's permissible for a Christian to use the words of the pagans—believing that talent is a divine gift pleasing to God through the grace that dwells within, and that only the elect possess it—I don't believe the words or the ideas of the pagans should be avoided, provided their errors are shunned. It seems that Maro, in his Aeneid, expressed this very thing with divine wisdom, under the guise of a fictional story, when he prudently laid out the six stages of life through the distinctions of six books. In these, while imitating the Odyssey, he seemed to express the origin and progress of the human condition, and the very path that he leads, advances, brings forth, and conducts down to the Underworld.
The Six Stages of the Soul's Journey
Using Virgil's Aeneid as an allegory, the author maps the soul's progression through the stages of life toward either destruction or wisdom.
Aeneas, who is imagined there as the soul, is so named because he is a dweller in the body; for 'ennos,' as the Greeks hold, means a dweller, and if you remove 'corpus' (body), Aeneas is composed from these to signify the soul living as if in a hut of flesh. It's the same with Neptune, who is called 'Ennosigaeus' because he inhabits the earth. The first book of the Aeneid, therefore, uses the image of a shipwreck to set forth the clear trials of infancy, which is tossed about by its own struggles; and at its end, the abundance of food and drink springs forward into festive joy. On the border of adolescence, then, the exchanges of conversation emerge, and their intemperance either tells tall tales or mixes the false with the true, because sins can't be absent from much talking. Furthermore, the third book sings of the various errors of youth as if they were its own, because that age knows almost nothing but errors. Indeed, as the moralist says: 'The beardless youth, at last with his guardian removed, delights in horses and dogs and the grass of the sunny field; waxen to be bent toward vice, harsh to his mentors, a slow provider of useful things, and a spendthrift.' The first age, therefore, has a nurse, the second a guardian, and the third, the freer it is, the more easily it errs, though it doesn't yet proceed to crimes. The fourth age brings together illicit loves and leads the fire, imprudently conceived in the heart, to the unhappy funeral pyre of the lover. For reason doesn't persuade us that a fatal happiness exists under the symbol of Mercury, nor does it teach that someone who, while he was a little child, thought like a child, spoke like a child, and acted like a child, should—once he has firmly grasped the path of escape—empty himself of what belonged to the child. So, to return to the aforementioned moralist: with his interests changed, a man's age and spirit seek wealth and friendships, devote themselves to honor, and take care not to commit what they would soon struggle to change. Therefore, a mature age feels ashamed of childish and youthful things, and if it cannot pull up the anchor of its ship from perverse pleasure and impure love, it cuts the rope instead. In the same way, the patriarch's chaste son left his cloak with the adulteress, so that he would not be caught in the crime of adultery. The fifth stage brings forth civil maturity and depicts an age close to old age—or rather, one that is already entering old age itself. For it recalls the honors of the fathers, venerates the memory of ancestors, and, as if celebrating solemn games at the tomb of Anchises, recognizes in these very things the misery of its own exile. But as it moves out from here, it passes to the sixth stage, and with Palinurus and Misenus lost—the guides of the ship, so to speak, now drowsy and the instigators of reckless battle—when the passion now grows cold and strength fails, it feels not so much old age as it does decrepitude, and a kind of descent into the underworld. There, as if reviewing the errors of an entire life spent on useless pursuits, it learns that those who wish to reach the sweet embrace of Lavinia and the fated kingdom of Italy—as if reaching a certain citadel of happiness—must walk by a different path. It is clear to those who examine the minds of authors more diligently that Virgil declared the powers of a twofold doctrine, while he wrapped the secrets of philosophical virtue in the vanity of poetic fiction.
The Finality of the Choice
The path of pleasure leads inevitably to destruction, while true happiness is found only in the pursuit of eternal, real goods.
Although what has been said specifically concerns original corruption, it can be shown by clear reasoning that this applies to everyone, because human nature is inclined toward evil from youth. As a result, from the moment a person begins to use their free will—even if that will is weighed down—they fall of their own accord into sin, and from there, by their own merit, they plunge headlong into punishment; yet they can in no way be raised up to the good unless the grace of God reaches out to help them. The path of the Epicureans is broad, then, and leads without doubt to death—through dangers, errors, bitterness, and every kind of vanity—so that no one finds in it the calm and quiet state of a tranquil life, nor does anyone reach that state by following it. For if you are to possess true happiness, you must persist in good things that are real, not vain. For vain things drive their followers out into the outer darkness. —to the weeping of eyes, the gnashing of teeth, the ringing of ears, and the various pressures and punishments of the underworld, where no order dwells, but only eternal horror.
Read the original Latin
Nisi dissimulet contentiosus quae tamen dissimulari ratio a non permittit, ex superioribus luee clarius liquet Epicureos numquam assequi finem suum. Cum enim ad tranquillam aspirent uitam et ad libidinem explendam philosophentur, immo desipiant (nemo enim quod male libet potest sapienter implere), hoc per ista Babilonis fiuenta nullus assequitur. Illos quoque Epicureorum nomine censendos arbitror qui suam uolunt in omnibus implere uoluntatem. Nam, cum res libidini seruiunt, in uoluptatem transit affectus. Si afiectus afiectui non pareat, quo magis uis, torqueris magis, si tamen sit libido in uoluntate. Alioquin interdum uelle quod non potes, iocundum est et fructuosum; si forte esurias et sitias iustitiam, laboriosum tamen. Mundus itaque Epicureis plenus est, eo quod in tanta multitudine hominum pauci sunt qui non famulentur libidini, id est corruptae uoluntati, sed laboriosae uoluntatis nexibus non impliciti aut nuUi aut pauciores sunt. De loco uoluptatis exclusus est homo, ex quo libido praeualuit, eo quod uita iocunda et tranquilla frui non potest cui coeperit libido dominari.
Maluit facere quod libuit quam quod iussus est et proiectus in locum miseriae in terram laboris missus est, ut ei et semini suo terra spinas et tribulos germinet et in sudore uultus comedat panem suum qui in rectitudine uoluntatis obediens sine difiicultate et labore plenam poterat habere uoluptatem. Siquidem ad necessitatem et uoluptatem parata inuenerat omnia. Vultus autem, sicut his placet qui curiosius scrutantur uerborum originem, dieitur a uolendo; et sudor eius laborem et angustias indicat corruptae uolunc tatis. Si ergo sudatur in eo qui confirmat cor hominis et etiam in sumendo quod letificat, quid est quod sine labore sibi natura mortalis credat indultum? Anima sibi dictum recolit quod matri omnium nostrum peccatrici sententia Creatoris intorsit. Parit ergo in dolore filios uirtutum quae sine labore parit sobolem uitiorum. Natura namque peccatrix ad malum prona est et corrupta ab adolescentia sua, quae etas origini uicinatur, ut sine labore et difficultate labi et non possit erigi ad bona sine labore et erecta sine difficultate et gratia stare non possit. Parit itaque uitia, filias utique non filios, sine dolore sed proculdubio ad dolorem; sed in dolore filios, sed plane ad gaudium non dolorem.
Ergo Epicureus uersatur in dolore, cuius uita filios parit aut filias, et semper praesentes aut futuras ingemiscit angustias. Nam aut, ut cetera taceam, praesentibus non letatur aut, si caecus non est, dum rerum metitur exitus, ea tamquam abeuntia et fugientia deplorat. Letis etenim stare negatum est, nisi quis letetur in illis quae beatum faciunt aut ad perpetuam proficiunt uitam, Praeterit namque mundus hic et omnia desiderabilia eius; quantumlibet blandiatur incautis et dulces fallaciae suae propinet illecebras, nouissima eius quouis absintio amariora sunt. Et, quia ratio praesentem statum eius imperfectum esse usquequaque conuincit, nescio a quid solidum semper poHicetur in posterum ut in omnibus amatoribus et sequacibus suis nec unum ab initio duxerit ad perfectum aut uoti compotem fecerit. Hinc est quod auarus in mediis opibus esurit, potens et praesidens in summo fastigio seruit, in profundo luxu uoluptuosum gaudii defectus angit, et famae procus et gratiae in toto tumore inauis gloriae uilescit. Cui ista non patent, nimium ceeus est, cum unusquisque eorum qui uersantur in his sibi quod appetit deesse fateatur. Sunt tamen quorum oculos ita perstrinxit malitia ut quae per se lucent nequeant intueri. Sic oculis capti talpae lucis beneificium non agnoscunt et innatis gaudentes tenebris oderunt aerem puriorem nec uiuere queunt, si diutius arceantur ab humo et latebris suis.
Nonne talparum gerunt imaginem qui semper in humo uersantur, quorum tota conuersatio in terra deprimitur ut nichil altum sapiant uel diuinum, sed nec humanum quidem; cuius est, cum cetera animalia prona ferantur in terram, celum et quae celestia sunt erecta dignitate corporis et animi contemplari? Hi tamen suo sed talpae quodam naturae uitio deprimuntur. Profecto deterior est quem culpa maculat eo qui naturae laborat imperio. Nec credas altum sapere qui naturae consortes non tam uirtute quam uitiis uult praeire. Sed quid in grege isto talparum arguo cecitatem, nisi quod aliorura fons esse uidetur? Ab eo namque scaturiunt riuuli uitiorum ut quasi in corpore uno uideas confluxisse rapacitatem leonis, seuitiam tigridis, gulam lupi, uarietatem pardi, fraudes uulpis, tenacitatem arpiae, immunditiam suis, petulantiam hirci, superbiam equi, stoliditatem asini, obstinationem muli, toxicum ydrae, nigredinem simile quod fii fabricauerat Deus, innocenter locutus est magnalia Dei; sed ex quo factus uerbosior per ostium curiositatis eductus exercuit cum temptatore uerbi commercium, quasi ab infantia adolescens concepto calore intumuit et praeuaricatus mandatum, cuius custodia ad gloriam fuerat prof utura, corruptus est ut ex tunc mirabili et inuincibili lege conditionis inflictae sibi unio reluctetur camis et spiritus ut nulla ratione componi possint, nisi illius gratia intercedat qui fecit utraque unum et camem in electomm fine faciet a spiritu absorberi. Si uerbis gentilium uti licet Christiano, qui solis electis diuinum et Deo placens per inhabitantem gratiam esse credit ingenium, etsi nec uerba nec sensus credam gentilium fugiendos, dummodo uitentur errores, hoc ipsum diuina pmdentia in Eneide sua sub inuoa lucro fictitii commenti innuisse uisus est Maro, dum sex etatum gradus sex libromm distinctionibus pmdenter expressit. Quibus conditionis humanae, dum Odisseam imitatur, ortum exprimere uisus est et processum, ipsumque, quem educit et prouehit, producit et deducit ad Manes.
Nam Eneas, qui ibi fingitur animus, sic dictus eo quod est corporis habitator; ennos enim, ut Grecis placet, habitator est, demas corpus et ab his componitur Eneas ut significet animam quasi carnis tugurio habitantem. Sic etiam Neptunum ennosigeum eo quod Sigeum inhabitet. Primus itaque liber Eneidos sub imagine naufragii manifestas infantiae, quae suis proeellis agitatur, exponit tunsiones; et in fine suo habundantia cibi et potus adulta prosilit ad letitiam conuiualem. In confinio ergo adolescentiae prodeunt colloquiorum commercia, et eorum intemperies aut fabulas narrat aut ueris falsa permiscet, eo quod multiloquio peccata deesse non possunt. Porro tertius uarios iuuentutis quasi suos canit errores; eo quod illa etas fere solos nouit errores. Siquidem, ut ait ethicus: Imberbis iuuenis tandem custode remoto gaudet equis canibusque et aprici gramine campi; cereus in uitium flecti, monitoribus asper, utilium tardus prouisor, prodigus eris. Prima ergo etas nutricem, secunda custodem habet, tertia quo liberior, eo facilius errat, nondum tamen procedit ad crimina. Quarta illicitos amores conciliat et ignem imprudenter conceptum in pectore ad amantis infelicem producit rogum.
Neque enim inconcessis fatalem beatitudinem esse sub typo Mercurii ratio persuadet, docetque illum qui, dum fuerat paruulus, sapiebat ut paruulus, loquebatur ut paruulus, agebat ut paruulus, fuga irrefragabiliter apprehensa, euacuare quae erant paruuli. Vnde, ut ad memoratum ethicum redeamus: Conuersis studiis etas animusque uirilis quaerit opes et amicitias, inseruit honori, commisisse cauet quod mox mutare laboret. Ergo et uirilis etas puerilia et iuuenilia erubescit et, si a peruersa uoluptate et immundo amore nauigii sui soluere non potest anchoram, praecidit et funem. Sic et patriarchae pudicus filius pallium reliquit adulterae, ne adulterii crimine inuolueretur. Quinta maturitatem ciuilem promit, et etatem depingit uicinam senectuti, immo quae ipsam iam ingreditur senectutem. Nam et patrum honores recolit, maiorum memoriam ueneratur, et, quasi ad tumulum Anchisae sollemnes celebret ludos, in his ipsis exilii sui miseriam recognoscit. Dum uero hinc egreditur, transit ad sextum et amissis Palinuro et Miseno, duce scilicet nauigii dormitante et temerarii praelii incentore, cum iam frigescat aflFectus uiresque deficiant, non tam senectutem sentit quam senium et uelut quendam descensum ad inferos, ubi quasi rebus a inutiliter gestis totius anteactae uitae recognoscat errores et discat alia uia incedendum esse his qui uolunt ad dulces Lauiniae complexus et fatale regnum Italiae quasi ad quandam arcem beatitudinis peruenire. Constat enim apud eos qui mentem diligentius perscrutantur auctorum Maronem geminae doctrinae uires declarasse, dum uanitate figmenti poetici philosophicae uirtutis inuoluit archana.
Licet autem de prima corruptione specialiter dictum sit, potest et de singulis manif esta ratione monstrari quia natura hominis ab adolescentia sua prona est ad malum; ut ex quo libero licet depresso coeperit uti arbitrio, per se cadat sponte in culpam et inde merito suo praeceps prolabatur in penam; erigi tamen nequaquam potest ad bonum, nisi gratia Dei supponat manum suam. Lata est ergo Epicureorum uia et haud dubiam ducit ad mortem, per pericula tamen, per errores, per amaritudines et per omnimodas uanitates, ut letum et quietum tranquillae uitae statum in ea nullus inueniat uel ad illum tandem ea ducente perueniat. Nam, ut beatitudo possideatur, non uanis sed ueris insistendum est bonis. Vana enim cultorem suum proturbant in tenebras exteriores. ad fletum oculorum, stridorem dentium, tinnitum aurium, et uarias pressuras et penas inferorum, apud quos nullus ordo sed sempiternus horror inhabitat.
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