The Republic and The Laws (Oxford World's Classics)
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QUINTUS: Yes, I think that’s the way to proceed.
ATTICUS: Include me, too, in your brother’s opinion.
MARCUS: It is our business, then, to maintain and preserve the constitution of that state which Scipio in those six books* proved to be the best. All the laws must be framed to fit that kind of community. Patterns of behaviour are also to be implanted, and not everything is to be laid down in writing. For all these reasons I shall look to nature for the origins of justice. She must be our constant guide as our discussion unfolds.
ATTICUS: Absolutely right. With her as our guide there can be no danger of going astray.
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MARCUS: Well then, Pomponius, will you grant me this (for I already know Quintus’ view)* that the whole of nature is ruled by the immortal gods, with their force, impetus,* plan, power, sway (or whatever other word may express my meaning more plainly)? If you don’t accept that, our argument will have to start on that very point.
ATTICUS: I’ll grant it if you insist;* and in fact, because of all this birdsong and the gurgling of the river, I’m not worried that any of my fellow-disciples may overhear.
MARCUS: Ah, but you must be careful! For, like all good men, they are apt to become very angry;* and they won’t put up with it if they hear that you’ve failed to uphold the excellent man’s first chapter, where he has written that a god is never concerned* either on his own account or anyone else’s.
ATTICUS: Please carry on. I’d like to know the relevance of my concession.
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MARCUS: I’ll be brief; this is the point. The creature of foresight, wisdom, variety, keenness, memory, endowed with reason and judgement, which we call man, was created by the supreme god to enjoy a remarkable status. Of all the types and species of living creatures he is the only one that participates in reason* and reflection, whereas none of the others do. What is there, I will not say in man, but in the whole of heaven and earth, more divine than reason* (a faculty which, when it has developed and become complete, is rightly called wisdom)?
Since, then, there is nothing better than reason, and reason is present in both man and God, there is a primordial partnership in reason between man and God. But those who share reason also share right reason; and since that is law, we men must also be thought of as partners with the gods in law. Furthermore, those who share law share justice. Now those who share all these things must be regarded as belonging to the same state; and much the more so if they obey the same powers and authorities. And they do in fact obey this celestial system, the divine mind, and the all-powerful god. Hence this whole universe must be thought of as a single community shared by gods and men.* Now in communities there is a system (which I shall describe at the appropriate point) whereby differences of status within families are determined by blood-relationships.* In the context of the cosmos the same applies on a much vaster and more splendid scale, establishing ties of blood between men and gods.
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In debates on the nature of man it is usually maintained, doubtless correctly, that in the course of the continuous circuits and revolutions of the heavens the right moment arrived for sowing the human race;* that after being scattered and sown in the earth it was further endowed with the divine gift of mind; that whereas men derived the other elements in their make-up from their mortal nature—elements which are fragile and transitory—their mind was implanted in them by God. Hence we have what can truly be called a lineage, origin, or stock in common with the gods. That is why, out of so many species, no creature apart from man has any conception of God; and why, within mankind itself, there is no tribe so civilized or so savage as not to know that it should believe in a god, even if it is mistaken about the kind of god it should believe in. As a result, man recognizes God in as much as he, as it were, remembers his place of origin.* Again, the same moral excellence resides in man and in God, and in no other species besides. And moral excellence is nothing other than the completion and perfection of nature.
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There is, therefore, a similarity between man and God. Since that is so, what kinship, I ask you, can be closer or firmer? Nature has lavished such a wealth of things on men for their use and convenience that every growing thing seems to have been given to us on purpose; it does not come into existence by chance. And I don’t mean just what shoots forth from the fertile earth, but also domestic animals; for they were obviously created for man’s use* or his enjoyment* or his food. Again, countless skills have been discovered thanks to nature’s teaching. By copying her,* reason has cleverly acquired the necessities of life.
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Nature, too, has not only equipped man with mental agility; she has provided him with senses which act as his servants and messengers.* She has given him, as a preliminary outline, dim and not fully developed perceptions of very many things, which form a foundation, as it were, of knowledge. And she has blest him with a versatile physique in keeping with the human mind. For whereas nature made other animals stoop down to feed, she made man alone erect,* encouraging him to gaze at the heavens as being, so to speak, akin to him and his original home. She also shaped his facial features so as to express his innermost character. Our eyes tell our emotional state very clearly; and what we call the expression, which cannot exist in any creature except in man, indicates our character. (The Greeks know what the word means but have no equivalent* at all.) I need not mention the faculties and abilities of the rest of the body, such as the control of the voice and the power of speech, which is above all else the promoter of human fellowship.* For not everything is germane to our present discussion, and I think Scipio has dealt adequately with this topic in the books which you have read.* Since, then, God has created and equipped man in this way, intending him to take precedence over everything else, this point should be clear (not to go into every detail) that nature on her own account goes further. Without any teacher, starting from the sort of things she apprehended through that original rudimentary perception, she herself strengthens and completes human reason.
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ATTICUS: Good Lord! You’re certainly going a long way back in your search for the basis of justice. For that reason I shan’t hurry you on to the discussion of civil law which I was hoping for. I would gladly have you spend the whole day on this subject. For these points that you are bringing in, as ancillary perhaps to other matters, are actually more important than the things which they serve to introduce.
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MARCUS: Yes, the points which I am now briefly touching on are important. But of all the issues dealt with in philosophical debates surely nothing is more vital than the clear realization that we are born for justice, and that what is just is based, not on opinion, but on nature.* This will at once become clear if you examine the society of men and their relations to one another.
Now there is no single thing that is so similar to, so like, anything else as all of us are like one another. If corrupt habits and foolish opinions did not twist and turn aside our feeble minds from their original paths, no individual would be more like himself than everyone would be like everyone else. Thus, however one defines man, the same definition applies to us all. This is sufficient proof that there is no essential difference within mankind. If there were, the same definition would not cover everyone. Reason in fact—the one thing in which we are superior to the beasts, which enables us to make valid deductions, to argue, refute our opponents, debate, solve problems, draw conclusions—that certainly is common to us all. While it may vary in what it teaches, it is constant in its ability to learn. For the same things are grasped by the senses of all, and those things that act on the senses act on the senses of all alike; and those rudimentary perceptions that are impressed on the mind (the perceptions I mentioned above) are impressed alike on all minds. Speech, which interprets the mind, uses different languages but expresses the same ideas. Nor is there any member of any nation who cannot attain moral excellence by using nature as his guide.
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The similarity between human beings is evident in their vices as 31 well as their virtues. They are all beguiled by pleasure, which, though it leads on to vice, bears some resemblance to what is naturally good; for it gives delight by its lightness and charm, and so, through an error of judgement, is accepted as something beneficial. Owing to a similar misconception death is shunned as though it involved the extinction of our true nature, while life is sought because it preserves us in the condition in which we were born. Pain is counted as one of the greatest evils, because it is harsh in itself and apparently leads to the dissolution* of our nature. Again, because good character and good reputation look alike, those who receive public honours are regarded as blessed, and the obscure are objects of pity. Troubles and joys, desires and fears, haunt the minds of all alike; and if men differ in their opinions it does not follow that those who worship a dog or a cat* as divine are not afflicted by the same superstition as other nations. What community does not love friendliness, generosity, and an appreciative mind which remembers acts of kindness? What community does not reject the arrogant, the wicked, the cruel, and the ungrateful—yes, and hate them too? So, since the whole human race is seen to be knit together, the final conclusion is that the principles of right living make everyone a better person. If you agree with this, let us move on to the rest of our discussion; but if you have any questions we should clear them up first.
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ATTICUS: No, we have nothing to raise, if I may answer for us both.
MARCUS: The next point, then, is that we have been made by nature to share justice amongst ourselves and to impart it to one another. I should add that in the whole of this discussion I want it to be understood that what I call ‘justice’ comes from nature, but that the corruption brought by bad habits is so great that it extinguishes, so to speak, the sparks given by nature and allows the corresponding vices to spring up and flourish. If human beings believed in their hearts what is in fact the case, namely that, in the poet’s words, ‘nothing human is alien to them’,* then justice would be respected equally by all. For those who have been endowed by nature with reason have also been endowed with right reason, and hence with law, which is right reason in commanding and forbidding; but if with law, then with justice too. But reason has been bestowed on everybody; therefore the same applies to justice. And Socrates was right to curse* the man who first separated self-interest from justice; for that, he complained, was the source of everything pernicious. Hence that famous saying of Pythagoras* … [ There is a gap in the text here]
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It is clear, then, that when a wise man shows this goodwill, which ranges so far and wide, to someone endowed with equal moral excellence, an effect is produced which some people* think incredible though it is actually inevitable, namely that he loves the other person as much as he loves himself. For what difference can there be when everything is equal? If there could be some distinction, however tiny, in a friendship, the name of friendship would already have gone; for the essential feature of friendship is that, the moment one partner prefers to have something for himself rather than for the other, it vanishes.
All these arguments provide a firm basis for the rest of our discussion and debate, for they help to show that justice is founded on nature. When I have said a little more about this point, I will come to civil law, the subject from which this whole discourse began.
QUINTUS: Yes, you need add very little. From what you’ve said it certainly seems to me that justice is derived from nature. I don’t know whether Atticus agrees.
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ATTICUS: How could I fail to agree when you have proved first that we are, as it were, equipped and arrayed with the gifts of the gods, and secondly that men have a single way of living with one another which is shared equally by everyone, and finally that all are held together by a natural goodwill and kindliness and also by a fellowship in justice? Since we have agreed (rightly, I think) that these assertions are true, how can we now dissociate law and justice from nature?
36–52. The foregoing principles will be supported by all who hold that the virtues are to be sought for their own sake
MARCUS: Quite right; that’s how things are. But in the procedure of philosophers (I don’t mean the older lot,* but those who have set up what might be called philosophical factories*) things that were once expressed in large general terms are now presented separately, point by point. They think that the subject which we now have in hand cannot be adequately dealt with unless this particular proposition (i.e. that justice is derived from nature) is examined on its own.
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ATTICUS: I suppose you have lost your freedom of expression; or perhaps you are one of those people who, in arguing a case, defer to the authority of others instead of following their own judgement!
MARCUS: Not invariably, Titus. But you see the direction which this discussion is taking. My whole thesis aims to bring stability to states, steadiness to cities, and well-being to communities. So I am anxious not to make a mistake by laying down first principles which have not been well considered and carefully examined. Mind you, I do not mean that they should be proved to everyone’s satisfaction (that can’t be done), but to the satisfaction of those who believe that everything right and honourable should be desired for its own sake,* and that things which are not praiseworthy in their own right should not be counted among good things at all, or at least that nothing should be regarded as a great good if it cannot truly be praised for its own sake. To all these thinkers—whether they have remained in the Old Academy* like Speusippus, Xenocrates, and Polemo, or whether they have followed Aristotle* and Theophrastus (who agree with the former group in fact though differing slightly in their style of presentation), or whether, as Zeno used to do, they have changed their terms without changing the substance of their beliefs, or whether they have even followed the austere and difficult school of Aristo, now refuted and discredited, in considering all else as wholly indifferent except for virtues and vices—to all these thinkers what I have said should be acceptable.
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As for those who go in for self-indulgence and are slaves of their own bodies—people who measure everything that they should seek and avoid in life by the yardstick of pleasure and pain—even if they are right (and there is no need to take issue with them here) let us tell them to preach in their own little gardens,* and let us ask them to keep away for a little while from any participation in public life, an area of which they know nothing and have never wished to know anything. Then there is the Academy, which has spread confusion in all these issues (I mean the recent Academy dating from Arcesilaus and Carneades). Let us ask it to keep quiet;* for if it intervenes in these questions, which seem to us to have been quite neatly presented and settled, it will cause too much destruction. At the same time I would like to pacify that school, and I wouldn’t dare to push it away . . .
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[There is a gap here in the manuscript—a gap in which Cicero seems to have spoken of venial sins. They can be expiated.]
...But when it comes to acts of wickedness against men, and sacrilege against the gods, no expiation is possible. So the offenders pay the penalty, not necessarily imposed by the courts (which once did not exist anywhere, still do not exist in many places, and where they do exist are often unsound), but they are chased and hounded by the Furies, not with burning firebrands as in the plays,* but with the torment of their conscience and the agony of their guilt. If on the other hand men ought to be kept from wrongdoing by punishment rather than by nature, why on earth should the wicked have anything to worry about if the danger of punishment were removed? Yet no villain has ever been so brazen as not to deny that he has perpetrated a crime, or else fabricate a reason to justify his anger, or seek a defence for his crime in some provision of natural justice. If the wicked dare to invoke such principles, just think how resolutely they will be observed by the good! If, however, it is p
unishment or the fear of retribution, and not wickedness itself, that deters people from a life of crime and villainy, then no one is unjust; instead, the worthless should be called careless. By the same token, those of us who are persuaded to be 41 good not by probity itself but by some advantage or benefit,* are not good but crafty. How will a man behave in the dark if his only fear is a witness and a judge? What if he comes across someone in a deserted place—someone alone and helpless who can be robbed of a lot of money? Our naturally good and just man will talk to him, help him, and put him on the right road. But the fellow who does nothing for anyone else, and measures everything by his own advantage—you see, I fancy, what he will do! Even if he denies that he will murder the man and abscond with his money, he will not deny it because he regards the act as intrinsically evil but because he is afraid it may leak out, that is, that he may suffer as a result. What an attitude! It’s enough to make not just a philosopher but even a peasant blush.
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