(for they admitted that man did by nature grieve, and desire, and fear, and become elated by joy,) but only contracted it, and reduced it to narrow bounds; he maintained that the wise man was wholly free from all these diseases as they might be called. And as the ancients said that those perturbations were natural, and devoid of reason, and placed desire in one part of the mind and reason in another, he did not agree with them either; for he thought that all perturbations were voluntary, and were admitted by the judgment of the opinion, and that a certain unrestrained intemperance was the mother of all of them. And this is nearly what he laid down about morals.
XI. But about natures he held these opinions. In the first place, he did not connect this fifth nature, out of which his predecessors thought that sense and intellect were produced, with those four principles of things.
For he laid it down that fire is that nature which produces everything, and intellect, and sense. But he differed from them again, inasmuch as he thought it absolutely impossible for anything to be produced from that nature which was destitute of body; which was the character attributed by Xenocrates and his predecessors to the mind, and he would not allow that that which produced anything, or which was produced by anything, could possibly be anything except body.
But he made a great many alterations in that third part of his philosophy, in which, first of all, he said some new things of the senses themselves: which he considered to be united by some impulse as it were, acting upon them from without, which he called φαντασία, and which we may term _perception_. And let us recollect this word, for we shall have frequent occasion to employ it in the remainder of our discourse; but to these things which are perceived, and as it were accepted by the senses, he adds the assent of the mind, which he considers to be placed in ourselves and voluntary. He did not give credit to everything which is perceived, but only to those which contain some especial character of those things which are seen; but he pronounced what was seen, when it was discerned on account of its own power, _comprehensible_—will you allow me this word?
Certainly, said Atticus, for how else are you to express καταληπτός? But after it had been received and approved, then he called it _comprehension_, resembling those things which are taken up (_prehenduntur_) in the hand; from which verb also he derived this noun, though no one else had ever used this verb with reference to such matters; and he also used many new words, for he was speaking of new things. But that which was comprehended by sense he called _felt_ (_sensum_,) and if it was so comprehended that it could not be eradicated by reason, he called it knowledge; otherwise he called it ignorance: from which also was engendered opinion, which was weak, and compatible with what was false or unknown. But between knowledge and ignorance he placed that comprehension which I have spoken of, and reckoned it neither among what was right or what was wrong, but said that it alone deserved to be trusted.
And from this he attributed credit also to the senses, because, as I have said above, comprehension made by the senses appeared to him to be true and trustworthy. Not because it comprehended all that existed in a thing, but because it left out nothing which could affect it, and because nature had given it to us to be as it were a rule of knowledge, and a principle from which subsequently all notions of things might be impressed on our minds, from which not only principles, but some broader paths to the discovery of reason are found out. But error, and rashness, and ignorance, and opinion, and suspicion, and in a word everything which was inconsistent with a firm and consistent assent, he discarded from virtue and wisdom. And it is in these things that nearly all the disagreement between Zeno and his predecessors, and all his alteration of their system consists.
XII. And when he had spoken thus—You have, said I, O Varro, explained the principles both of the Old Academy and of the Stoics with brevity, but also with great clearness. But I think it to be true, as Antiochus, a great friend of mine, used to assert, that it is to be considered rather as a corrected edition of the Old Academy, than as any new sect. Then Varro replied—It is your part now, who revolt from the principles of the ancients, and who approve of the innovations which have been made by Arcesilas, to explain what that division of the two schools which he made was, and why he made it; so that we may see whether that revolt of his was justifiable. Then I replied—Arcesilas, as we understand, directed all his attacks against Zeno, not out of obstinacy or any desire of gaining the victory, as it appears to me, but by reason of the obscurity of those things which had brought Socrates to the confession of ignorance, and even before Socrates, Democritus, Anaxagoras, Empedocles, and nearly all the ancients; who asserted that nothing could be ascertained, or perceived, or known: that the senses of man were narrow, his mind feeble, the course of his life short, and that truth, as Democritus said, was sunk in the deep; that everything depended on opinions and established customs; that nothing was left to truth. They said in short, that everything was enveloped in darkness; therefore Arcesilas asserted that there was nothing which could be known, not even that very piece of knowledge which Socrates had left himself. Thus he thought that everything lay hid in secret, and that there was nothing which could be discerned or understood; for which reasons it was not right for any one to profess or affirm anything, or sanction anything by his assent, but men ought always to restrain their rashness and to keep it in check so as to guard it against every fall. For rashness would be very remarkable when anything unknown or false was approved of; and nothing could be more discreditable than for a man’s assent and approbation to precede his knowledge and perception of a fact. And he used to act consistently with these principles, so as to pass most of his days in arguing against every one’s opinion, in order that when equally important reasons were found for both sides of the same question, the judgment might more naturally be suspended, and prevented from giving assent to either.
This they call the New Academy, which however appears to me to be the old one, if, at least, we reckon Plato as one of that Old Academy. For in his books nothing is affirmed positively, and many arguments are allowed on both sides of a question; everything is investigated, and nothing positive affirmed. Still let the school whose principles I have explained, be called the Old Academy, and this other the New; which, having continued to the time of Carneades, who was the fourth in succession after Arcesilas, continued in the same principles and system as Arcesilas. But Carneades, being a man ignorant of no part of philosophy, and, as I have learnt from those who had been his pupils, and particularly from Zeno the Epicurean, who, though he greatly differed from him in opinion, still admired him above all other men, was also a person of incredible abilities..._The rest of this Book is lost._ SECOND BOOK OF THE ACADEMIC QUESTIONS.
I. Lucius Lucullus was a man of great genius, and very much devoted to the study of the most important arts; every branch of liberal learning worthy of a man of high birth, was thoroughly understood by him; but at the time when he might have made the greatest figure in the forum, he was wholly removed from all participation in the business of the city. For while he was very young, he, uniting with his brother, a man of equal sense of duty and diligence with himself, followed up the quarrel(10) bequeathed to him by his father to his own exceeding credit; afterwards having gone as quæstor into Asia, he there governed the province for many years with great reputation. Subsequently he was made ædile in his absence, and immediately after that he was elected prætor; for his services had been rewarded by an express law authorizing his election at a period earlier than usual. After that he was sent into Africa; from thence he proceeded to the consulship, the duties of which he discharged in such a manner, that every one admired his diligence, and recognised his genius.
Afterwards he was sent by the Senate to conduct the war against Mithridates, and there he not only surpassed the universal expectation which every one had formed of his valour, but even the glory of his predecessors. And that was the more admirable in him, because great skill as a general was not very much looked for in one who had spent his youth in the occupations of the forum, and the duration of his quæstorship in peace in Asia, while Murena was carrying on the war in Pontus. But the incredible greatness of his genius did not require the aid of experience, which can never be taught by precepts. Therefore, having devoted the whole time occupied in his march and his voyage, partly to making inquiries of those who were skilful in such matters, and partly in reading the accounts of great achievements, he arrived in Asia a perfect general, though he had left Rome entirely ignorant of military affairs. For he had an almost divine memory for facts, though Hortensius had a better one for words. But as in performing great deeds, facts are of more consequence than words, this memory of his was the more serviceable of the two; and they say, that the same quality was conspicuous in Themistocles, whom we consider beyond all comparison the first man in Greece. And a story is told of him, that, when some one promised to teach him the art of memory, which was then beginning to be cultivated, he answered, that he should much prefer learning to forget; I suppose, because everything which he had either heard or seen stuck in his memory.
Lucullus having this great genius, added to it that study which Themistocles had despised: therefore, as we write down in letters what we wish to commit to monuments, he, in like manner, had the facts engraved in his mind. Therefore, he was a general of such perfect skill in every kind of war, in battles, and sieges, and naval fights, and in the whole equipment and management of war, that that king, the greatest that has ever lived since the time of Alexander, confessed, that he considered him a greater general than any one of whom he had ever read. He also displayed such great prudence in arranging and regulating the affairs of the different cities, and such great justice too, that to this very day, Asia is preserved by the careful maintenance of the regulations, and by following as it were in the footsteps of Lucullus. But although it was greatly to the advantage of the republic, still that great virtue and genius was kept abroad at a distance from the eyes both of the forum and the senate-house, for a longer time than I could have wished. Moreover, when he had returned victorious from the war against Mithridates, owing to the calumnies of his adversaries, he did not celebrate his triumph till three years later than he ought to have done. For I may almost say, that I myself when consul led into the city the chariot of that most illustrious man, and I might enlarge upon the great advantage that his counsel and authority were to me, in the most critical circumstances, if it were not that to do so would compel me to speak of myself, which at this moment is not necessary. Therefore, I will rather deprive him of the testimony due to him, than mix it up now with a commendation of myself.
II. But as for those exploits of Lucullus, which were entitled to be celebrated by the praises of the nation, they have been extolled both in Greek and Latin writings. For those outward exploits of his are known to us in common with the multitude; but his interior excellences (if I may so call them) we and a few of his friends have learnt from himself. For Lucullus used to apply himself to every kind of literature, and especially to philosophy, with greater eagerness than those who were not acquainted with him believed. And he did so, not only at his first entrance into life, but also when he was proquæstor, as he was for several years, and even during the time of war itself, a time when men are usually so fully occupied with their military business, that very little leisure is left to the general, even in his own tent. And as of all the philosophers of that day, Antiochus, who had been a pupil of Philo, was thought to excel in genius and learning, he kept him about him while he was quæstor, and some years afterwards when he was general. And as he had that extraordinary memory which I have mentioned already, by hearing frequently of things, he arrived at a thorough acquaintance with them; as he recollected everything that he had heard of only once. And he was wonderfully delighted in the reading books of which he heard any one speak.
And I sometimes fear lest I may even diminish the glory of such characters as his, even while wishing to enhance it; for there are many people who are altogether averse to Greek literature, still more who have a dislike to philosophy, and men in general, even though they do not positively disapprove of them, still think the discussion of such matters not altogether suitable for the chiefs of the state. But I, having heard that Marcus Cato learnt Greek in his old age, and learning from history that Panætius was above all other men the chosen companion of Publius Africanus, in that noble embassy which he was employed on before he entered on the censorship, think I have no need of any other instance to justify his study of Greek literature or of philosophy.
It remains for me to reply to those men who disapprove of such dignified characters being mixed up in discussions of this sort; as if the meetings of illustrious men were bound to be passed in silence, or their conversation to be confined to jesting, and all the topics to be drawn from trifling subjects. In truth, if in any one of my writings I have given philosophy its due praise, then surely its discussion is thoroughly worthy of every excellent and honourable man; nor is anything else necessary to be taken care of by us, whom the Roman people has placed in our present rank, except that we do not devote to our private pursuits, the time which ought to be bestowed on the affairs of the public. But if, while we are bound to discharge our duties, we still not only never omit to give our assistance in all public meetings, but never even write a single word unconnected with the forum, who then will blame our leisure, because even in that moment we are unwilling to allow ourselves to grow rusty and stupid, but take pains rather to benefit as many people as possible?
And I think, that not only is the glory of those men not diminished, but that it is even increased by our adding to their popular and notorious praises these also which are less known and less spoken of. Some people also deny that those men who are introduced in our writings as disputants had any knowledge of those affairs which are the subjects of discussion.
But they appear to me to be showing their envy, not only of the living but also of the dead.
III. There remains one class of critics who disapprove of the general principles of the Academy. Which we should be more concerned at if any one approved of any school of philosophy except that which he himself followed. But we, since we are in the habit of arguing against every one who appears to himself to know anything, cannot object to others also dissenting from us. Although our side of the question is an easier one, since we wish to discover the truth without any dispute, and we seek for that with the greatest anxiety and diligence. For although all knowledge is beset with many difficulties, and there is that obscurity in the things themselves and that infirmity in our own judgment, that it is not without reason that the most learned and ancient philosophers have distrusted their power of discovering what they wished; yet they have not been deficient in any respect, nor do we allow ourselves to abandon the pursuit of truth through fatigue; nor have our discussions ever any other object except that of, by arguing on each side, eliciting, and as it were, squeezing out something which may either be the truth itself, or may at least come as near as possible to it. Nor is there any difference between us and those people who fancy that they know something, except that they do not doubt at all that those doctrines which they uphold are the truth, while we account many things as probable which we can adopt as our belief, but can hardly positively affirm.
And in this we are more free and unfettered than they are, because our power of judging is unimpeached, and because we are not compelled by any necessity to defend theories which are laid upon as injunctions, and, if I may say so, as commands. For in the first place, those of the other schools have been bound hand and foot before they were able to judge what was best; and, secondly, before their age or their understanding had come to maturity, they have either followed the opinion of some friend, or been charmed by the eloquence of some one who was the first arguer whom they ever heard, and so have been led to form a judgment on what they did not understand, and now they cling to whatever school they were, as it were, dashed against in a tempest, like sailors clinging to a rock. For as to their statement that they are wholly trusting to one whom they judge to have been a wise man, I should approve of that if that were a point which they, while ignorant and unlearned, were able to judge of, (for to decide who is a wise man appears to me most especially the task of one who is himself wise.) But they have either formed their opinion as well as they could from a hearing of all the circumstances, and also from a knowledge of the opinions of philosophers of all the other schools; or else, having heard the matter mentioned once, they have surrendered themselves to the guidance of some one individual. But, I know not how it is, most people prefer being in error, and defending with the utmost pugnacity that opinion which they have taken a fancy to, to inquiring without any obstinacy what is said with the greatest consistency.
And these subjects were very frequently and very copiously discussed by us at other times, and once also in the villa of Hortensius, which is at Bauli, when Catulus, and Lucullus, and I myself had arrived there the day after we had been staying with Catulus. And we had come thither rather early in the day, because we had intended, if the wind was fair, to set sail, Lucullus for his villa near Naples, and I myself towards mine, in the district of Pompeii. When, therefore, we had had a short conversation on the terrace, we sat down where we were.
IV. Then Catulus said,—Although what we were inquiring into yesterday was almost wholly explained in such a manner that nearly the whole question appears to have been discussed, still I long to hear what you promised to tell us, Lucullus, as being what you had learnt from Antiochus. I, indeed, said Hortensius, did more than I intended, for the whole matter ought to have been left untouched for Lucullus, and indeed, perhaps it was: for I only said such things as occurred to me at the moment; but I hope to hear something more recondite from Lucullus.
Lucullus rejoined, I am not much troubled, Hortensius, at your expectation, although there is nothing so unfavourable for those who wish to give pleasure; but still, as I am not very anxious about how far I can prove to your satisfaction the arguments which I advance, I am the less disturbed. For the arguments which I am going to repeat are not my own, nor such that, if they are incorrect, I should not prefer being defeated to gaining the victory; but, in truth, as the case stands at present, although the doctrines of my school were somewhat shaken in yesterday’s discussion, still they do seem to me to be wholly true. I will therefore argue as Antiochus used to argue; for the subject is one with which I am well acquainted. For I used to listen to his lectures with a mind quite unengaged, and with great pleasure, and, moreover, he frequently discussed the same subject over again; so that you have some grounds for expecting more from me than you had from Hortensius a little while ago. When he had begun in this manner we prepared to listen with great attention.
And he spoke thus:—When I was at Alexandria, as proquæstor, Antiochus was with me, and before my arrival, Heraclitus, of Tyre, a friend of Antiochus, had already settled in Alexandria, a man who had been for many years a pupil of Clitomachus and of Philo, and who had a great and deserved reputation in that school, which having been almost utterly discarded, is now coming again into fashion; and I used often to hear Antiochus arguing with him; but they both conducted their discussions with great gentleness. And just at that time those two books of Philo which were yesterday mentioned by Catulus had been brought to Alexandria, and had for the first time come under the notice of Antiochus; and he, though naturally a man of the mildest disposition, (nor indeed was it possible for any one to be more peaceable than he was,) was nevertheless a little provoked. I was surprised, for I had never seen him so before: but he, appealing to the recollection of Heraclitus, began to inquire of him whether he had seen those works of Philo, or whether he had heard the doctrines contained in them, either from Philo or from any one else of the Academic school? And he said that he had not; however, he recognised the style of Philo, nor, indeed, could there be any doubt about it; for some friends of mine, men of great learning, Publius and Caius Setilius, and Tetrilius Rogus were present, who said that they heard Philo advance such operations at Rome; and who said that they had written out those two books from his dictation. Then Antiochus repeated what Catulus mentioned yesterday, as having been said to Philo by his father, and many other things besides; nor did he forbear even to publish a book against his own master, which is called “Sosus.”
I therefore, then, as I was much interested in hearing Heraclitus arguing against Antiochus, and Antiochus against the Academicians, paid great attention to Antiochus, in order to learn the whole matter from him.
Accordingly, for many days, collecting together Heraclitus and several learned men, and among them Aristus, the brother of Antiochus, and also Ariston and Dion, men whom he considered only second to his brother in genius, we devoted a great deal of time to that single discussion.
But we must pass over that part of it which was bestowed on refuting the doctrines of Philo; for he is a less formidable adversary, who altogether denies that the Academicians advance those arguments which were maintained yesterday. For although he is quite wrong as to the fact, still he is a less invincible adversary. Let us speak of Arcesilas and Carneades.
V. And having said this, he began again:—You appear to me, in the first place, (and he addressed me by name,) when you speak of the old natural philosophers, to do the same thing that seditious citizens are in the habit of doing when they bring forward some illustrious men of the ancients, who they say were friends of the people, in the hope of being themselves considered like them. They go back to Publius Valerius, who was consul the first year after the expulsion of the kings. They enumerate all the other men who have passed laws for the advantage of the people concerning appeals when they were consuls; and then they come down to these better known men, Caius Flaminius, who, as tribune of the people, passed an Agrarian law some years before the second Punic war, against the will of the senate, and who was afterwards twice elected consul; to Lucius Cassius and Quintus Pompeius; they are also in the habit of classing Publius Africanus in the same list; and they assert that those two brothers of infinite wisdom and exceeding glory, Publius Crassus and Publius Scævola, were the advisers of Tiberius Gracchus, in the matter of the laws which he proposed; the one, indeed, as we see, openly; the other, as we suspect, in a more concealed manner. They add also Caius Marius; and with respect to him they speak truly enough: then, having recounted the names of so many illustrious men, they say that they are acting up to their principles.
In like manner, you, when you are seeking to overturn a well-established system of philosophy, in the same way as those men endeavoured to overturn the republic, bring forward the names of Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Democritus, Parmenides, Xenophanes, and even Plato and Socrates. But Saturninus, (that I may name my own enemy rather than any one else,) had nothing in him resembling those ancient men; nor are the ungrounded accusations of Arcesilas to be compared to the modesty of Democritus. And yet those natural philosophers, though very seldom, when they have any very great difficulty, make loud and violent outcries, as if under the influence of some great excitement, Empedocles, indeed, does so to such a degree, that he appears to me at times to be mad, crying out that all things are hidden, that we feel nothing, see nothing, and cannot find out the true character of anything whatever. But for the most part all those men appear to me to affirm some things rather too positively, and to profess that they know more than they really do know. But if they then hesitated while discussing new subjects, like children lately born, are we for that reason to think that nothing has been explained in so many ages by the greatest genius and the most untiring industry? May we not say that, after the establishment of some wise and important schools of philosophy, then, as Tiberius Gracchus arose in an excellent constitution, for the purpose of throwing everything into confusion, so Arcesilas rose up to overturn the established philosophy, and to shelter himself under the authority of those men who asserted that nothing could be known or perceived; in which number we ought not to include Plato or Socrates; the one because he left behind him a most perfect school, namely, the Peripatetics and Academics, differing in name, but agreeing in all substantial matters: and from whom the Stoics themselves differ in words rather than in opinions. But Socrates, who always disparaged himself in arguing, attributed more knowledge to those whom he wished to refute. So, as he was speaking differently from what he really thought, he was fond of using that kind of dissimulation which the Greeks call εἰρωνεία; which Fannius says Africanus also was in the habit of indulging in, and that that ought not be considered a bad habit in him, as it was a favourite practice of Socrates.
VI. But, however, we will allow, if you like, that all those things were unknown to the ancients:—was nothing effected then, by their being thoroughly investigated, after that Arcesilas, disparaging Zeno, (for that is supposed to have been his object,) as discovering nothing new, but only correcting previous changes of names, while seeking to upset his definitions, had attempted to envelop the clearest possible matters in darkness? And his system, which was at first not at all approved of, although it was illustrated both by acute genius and by an admirable wittiness of language, was in the next generation adopted by no one but Lacydes; but subsequently it was perfected by Carneades, who was the fourth in succession from Arcesilas; for he was the pupil of Hegesinus, who had been the pupil of Evander, the disciple of Lacydes, and Lacydes himself had been the pupil of Arcesilas; but Carneades maintained it for a long time, for he lived ninety years; and those who had been his pupils had a very high reputation, of whom Clitomachus displayed the most industry, as the number of books which he composed testifies; nor was there less brilliancy of genius in him than there was of eloquence in Charmadas, or of sweetness in Melanthius of Rhodes. But Metrodorus of Stratonice was thought to be the one who had the most thorough understanding of Carneades. And your friend Philo attended the lectures of Clitomachus for many years; but as long as Philo was alive the Academy was never in want of a head.
But the business that we now propose to ourselves, of arguing against the Academicians, appears to some philosophers, and those, too, men of no ordinary calibre, to be a thing that ought not to be done at all; and they think that there is no sense at all in, and no method of disputing with men who approve of nothing; and they blame Antipater, the Stoic, who was very fond of doing so, and say that there is no need of laying down exact definitions of what knowledge is, or perception, or, if we want to render word for word, comprehension, which they call κατάληψις; and they say that those who wish to persuade men that there is anything which can be comprehended and perceived, are acting ignorantly; because there is nothing clearer than ἐνάργεια, as the Greeks call it, and which we may call perspicuity, or evidentness if you like,—coining words, if you will permit us to do so, that this fellow (meaning me) may not think that he is the only person to whom such liberties are permitted. Still they thought that no discourse could be found which should be more intelligible than evidentness itself; and they thought that there was no need of defining things which were so clear.
But others declared that they would never be the first to speak in behalf of this evidentness; but they thought that a reply ought to be made to those arguments which were advanced against it, to prevent any one being deceived by them. There are also many men who do not disapprove of the definitions of the evident things themselves, and who think the subject one worthy of being inquired into, and the men worthy of being argued with.
But Philo, while he raises some new questions, because he was scarcely able to withstand the things which were said against the obstinacy of the Academicians, speaks falsely, without disguise, as he was reproached for doing by the elder Catulus; and also, as Antiochus told him, falls into the very trap of which he was afraid. For as he asserted that there was nothing which could be comprehended, (for that is what we conceive to be meant by ἀκατάληπτος,) if that was, as Zeno defined it, such a perception, (for we have already spent time enough yesterday in beating out a word for φαντασία,) then a perception was extracted and produced out of that from which it originated, such as could be produced from that from which it did not originate. And we say that this matter was most excellently defined by Zeno; for how can anything be comprehended, so that you may feel absolutely sure that it has been perceived and known, which is of such a character that it is even possible that it may be false? Now when Philo upsets and denies this, he takes away also all distinction between what is known and unknown; from which it follows that nothing can be comprehended; and so, without intending it, he is brought back to the point he least intended. Wherefore, all this discourse against the Academy is undertaken by us in order that we may retain that definition which Philo wished to overturn; and unless we succeed in that, we grant that nothing can be perceived.
VII. Let us begin then with the senses—the judgments of which are so clear and certain, that if an option were given to our nature, and if some god were to ask of it whether it is content with its own unimpaired and uncorrupted senses, or whether it desires something better, I do not see what more it could ask for. Nor while speaking on this topic need you wait while I reply to the illustration drawn from a bent oar, or the neck of a dove; for I am not a man to say that everything which seems is exactly of that character of which it seems to be. Epicurus may deal with this idea, and with many others; but in my opinion there is the very greatest truth in the senses, if they are in sound and healthy order, and if everything is removed which could impede or hinder them. Therefore we often wish the light to be changed, or the situation of those things which we are looking at; and we either narrow or enlarge distances; and we do many things until our sight causes us to feel confidence in our judgment. And the same thing takes place with respect to sounds, and smell, and taste, so that there is not one of us who, in each one of his senses, requires a more acute judgment as to each sort of thing.
But when practice and skill are added, so that one’s eyes are charmed by a picture, and one’s ears by songs, who is there who can fail to see what great power there is in the senses? How many things do painters see in shadows and in projections which we do not see? How many beauties which escape us in music are perceived by those who are practised in that kind of accomplishment? men who, at the first note of the flute-player, say,—That is the Antiope, or the Andromache, when we have not even a suspicion of it. There is no need for me to speak of the faculties of taste or smell; organs in which there is a degree of intelligence, however faulty it may be. Why should I speak of touch, and of that kind of touch which philosophers call the inner one, I mean the touch of pleasure or pain? in which alone the Cyrenaics think that there is any judgment of the truth, because pleasure or pain are felt. Can any one then say that there is no difference between a man who is in pain and a man who is in pleasure? or can any one think that a man who entertains this opinion is not flagrantly mad?
But such as those things are which we say are perceived by the senses, such also are those things which are said to be perceived, not by the senses themselves, but by the senses after a fashion; as these things—that is white, this is sweet, that is tuneful, this is fragrant, that is rough.
We have these ideas already comprehended by the mind, not by the senses.
Again, this is a house, that is a dog. Then the rest of the series follows, connecting the more important links; such as these, which embrace, as it were, the full comprehension of things;—If he is a man, he is a mortal animal partaking of reason:—from which class of arguments the notions of things are impressed upon us, without which nothing can be understood, nor inquired into, nor discussed. But if those notions were false, (for you seemed to me to translate ἔννοιαι _notions_,) if, I say,