sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

We may well inquire, then, why the ancients forsook these doctrines and made use of myths. There is this first benefit from myths, that we have to search and do not have our minds idle.

(Sallustius on the Gods and the World III, as translated by Gilbert Murray.)


[Hermes, the Kosmic Thought,] beheld the universe of things, and having seen, he understood, and having understood, he had the power to manifest and to reveal. That which he thought, he wrote; that which he wrote, he in great part concealed, wisely silent and speaking by turns, so that while the world should last, these things might be sought.

(Kore Kosmou ["The Daughter of the Cosmos," that is, "On the Soul"] I, as quoted by Stobaeus I xlix §44, and as translated by Anna Kingsford and Edward Maitland.)


A koan is simply the time and place where Truth is manifest. From the fundamental point of view, there is no time or place where Truth is not revealed: every place, every day, every event, every thought, every deed, and every person is a koan. In that sense, koans are neither obscure nor enigmatic. However, a koan is more commonly understood as a tool for teaching true insight.

(Eido T. Shimano, Zen Koans.)


The master of Kennin temple was Mokurai, Silent Thunder. He had a little protege named Toyo who was only twelve years old. Toyo saw the older disciples visit the master's room each morning and evening to receive instruction in sanzen or personal guidance in which they were given koans to stop mind-wandering.

Toyo wished to do sanzen also.

"Wait a while," said Mokurai. "You are too young."

But the child insisted, so the teacher finally consented.

In the evening little Toyo went at the proper time to the threshold of Mokurai's sanzen room. He struck the gong to announce his presence, bowed respectfully three times outside the door, and went to sit before the master in respectful silence.

"You can hear the sound of two hands when they clap together," said Mokurai. "Now show me the sound of one hand."

Toyo bowed and went to his room to consider this problem. From his window he could hear the music of the geishas. "Ah, I have it!" he proclaimed.

The next evening, when his teacher asked him to illustrate the sound of one hand, Toyo began to play the music of the geishas.

"No, no," said Mokurai. "That will never do. That is not the sound of one hand. You've not got it at all."

Thinking that such music might interrupt, Toyo moved his abode to a quiet place. He meditated again. "What can the sound of one hand be?" He happened to hear some water dripping. "I have it," imagined Toyo.

When he next appeared before his teacher, Toyo imitated dripping water.

"What is that?" asked Mokurai. "That is the sound of dripping water, but not the sound of one hand. Try again."

In vain Toyo meditated to hear the sound of one hand. He heard the sighing of the wind. But the sound was rejected.

He heard the cry of an owl. This also was refused.

The sound of one hand was not the locusts.

For more than ten times Toyo visited Mokurai with different sounds. All were wrong. For almost a year he pondered what the sound of one hand might be.

At last little Toyo entered true meditation and transcended all sounds. "I could collect no more," he explained later, "so I reached the soundless sound."

Toyo had realized the sound of one hand.

(Nyogen Senzaki, 101 Zen Stories XXI "Sound of One Hand.")


Remember, the trying to understand is more important than the understanding.

(My angel.)


Myths are not history. To treat the gods as murderers and adulterers and child-eaters and other silly nonsense is foolish and impious.

Neither are myths mere allegories. To assign Apollo the name of inspiration and Aphrodite the name of what you feel when you see a pretty girl is idolatrous, mistaking the map for the territory.

No, the myths are koans. The purpose of them is not to understand, it is to participate; by participating, we give our minds as an offering; by giving our minds, we embody the gods; by embodying the gods, we become like them; by becoming like them...

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Plethon was a Greek Neoplatonist who played a major role in kickstarting the Platonic revival of the Renaissance. He wrote a lot of expository material about Platonism and Neoplatonism which, unfortunately, were mostly burned by the Church after he died. One of his surviving texts is a very brief Summary of the Doctrines of Zoroaster and Plato, which outlines twelve bullet points which form the core of a Platonist religion, much like an even more condensed On the Gods and the World. (Plethon evidently believed that Zoroaster was the original source of Pythagoreanism and hence of Platonism.)

Below is John Opsopaus' summary of the Summary. (The original is not much longer, though.) I thought it might be of interest to those who are interested in dipping their toes into Neoplatonism.

Concerning the Gods
  1. The gods exist, the chief of whom is Zeus.

  2. The gods look after us, either directly or through their subordinates.

  3. The gods are the causes of good, not of evil, for humans and other beings.

  4. The gods act according to an immutable fate emanated from Zeus.

Concerning the All [e.g. the Cosmos]
  1. The All, including gods of the second [e.g. supercelestial] and third [e.g. celestial] orders, was created by Zeus and is everlasting.

  2. The All is a unity assembled from many things.

  3. The All was created perfectly.

  4. The All is preserved immutably.

Concerning Humankind
  1. The human soul, being akin to the gods, is immortal and everlasting.

  2. The human soul is always attached to one or another mortal body and, by joining the immortal to the mortal, contributes to the unity of the All.

  3. Because of human kinship with the gods, the good is the goal that suits our life.

  4. The gods, by fixing the laws of humankind, place our happiness in the immortal part of our being.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

You cannot make a polygon with one or two sides: the first polygon is the triangle, which has three. One and two thus, in a sense, only exist in potential: they cannot take shape. But one plus two is three, so three gives one and two shape and makes the potential, actual. Indeed, the ancients didn't even consider one to be a number at all: Euclid, for example, says that number is the "multitude made of units," [Elements VII, def. 2] thus making one the measure of number and so beyond number. In that sense, one is doubly potential: it is number in potential and shape in potential. Two occupies a middle ground, being number in actuality but shape in potential. Three is finally what is both number in actuality and shape in actuality.

This is the kind of thing Porphyry talks about when he says that because "incorporeal forms and first principles could not be expressed in words, [the Pythagoreans] had recourse to demonstration by numbers." [Life of Pythagoras XLIX] So, metaphorically, one is heaven, spirit: that which is beyond and ever unreachable, even as it acts as a template. Two is earth, matter: both imminent in a sense and beyond in a sense, being infinitely divisible and never properly graspable. Three is the combination of the two, the things that exist from them, finally actual and sensible.

And the Neoplatonists loved to read these things into myth. Zeus is heaven, as the seed of all things. Maia is earth, that which receives and so gives form (but not form itself). Hermes is the result of their union, bringing the potential into actual, and so mediating between heaven and earth, and heralding the intelligible to the sensible.

Thus Zeus is spirit is one, Maia is matter is two, and Hermes is things is three. It is no mistake that Hermes is the patron of storytellers, for stories must have a beginning, middle, and end—three parts—in order to be complete; similarly, he is called thrice-greatest, because he brings perfection or completion or form to that which comes before.

Now, consider that you, yourself are a product of heaven and earth, possessing a spiritual soul and a material body. That means you are that which gives actuality to the potential. That means you are the mediator between potentials. That means you, yourself, are Hermes. When the Hermeticists say that Thrice-Greatest Hermes is their teacher, what they are really saying is that they are self-taught: truth does not come down from on high, it comes from within.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

As an exercise, I have attempted an interpretation of each point in the myth of Cupid and Psyche. I am starting, here, from the knowledge that Apuleius was both an initiate of the Mysteries (those of Dionysus and Isis for sure, and possibly others) and a Platonist. Further, it seems to me that since versions of the tale of the Golden Ass are known to predate Apuleius, but the fable of Cupid and Psyche is not, that Apuleius intentionally retold a popular story but inserted a fable of his own construction in order to more widely disseminate the Mysteries while not breaking his oaths of silence; but more than that, it's plausible that he gave the fable a firmly Platonist slant which may not have been present in the original Mystery teachings.

However, some caveats are in order: I am a half-baked scholar at best, I have not studied Plato very deeply, and neither am I very familiar with the middle Platonists besides Apuleius and Numenius. I have relied heavily on Plotinus in my unpacking, but this almost certainly contains a number of assumptions that Apuleius would not have made, and I am unfortunately blind to those. Thomas Taylor also gives an interpretation of the fable, but he departs even more widely, being firmly wedded (as in all things) to Proclus. In some instances I have agreed with him, and in others I have disagreed; but while I figure we're both correct in the broad strokes, we probably both fall short of apprehending the fable exactly. In any event, right or wrong, this is an attempt to understand the myth by what it meant to the Hellenistic Platonists, and it does not necessarily represent my own personal beliefs.

I have placed the interpretation below a cut, as it is lengthy and in case you wish to avoid it (for example, if you want to attempt your own study without contamination). Read more... )

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Sallustius' On the Gods and the World is often described, following Gilbert Murray, as a sort of creed or catechism of pagan faith. But did you know that Thomas Taylor—bless him, he's nearly as consistent as the stars themselves—penned a literal Platonist creed? He cribs from Sallustius here and there, but in the main it's Proclus all the way.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Back when I was doing my On the Gods and the World series, I ran face-first into a lot of things I didn't understand because I didn't have the right mental model to make sense of it. If others are interested in starting to study Neoplatonism, here are a few core concepts that I wish I had known from the get-go in order to make sense of what I was reading:

  1. There are two levels of reality relevant to us: the "intellectual" (e.g. the spiritual world, heaven) and the "sensible" (e.g. the material world, earth).

  2. The "intellectual" is something of a misnomer: it was so called because it refers to things apprehended by the mind rather than by the senses, but this should be understood as intuition or inspiration rather than as reason, as George Bernard Shaw says of Saint Joan:

    ROBERT DE BAUDRICOURT. What did you mean when you said that St. Catherine and St. Margaret talked to you every day?

    SAINT JOAN. They do.

    ROBERT. What are they like?

    JOAN (suddenly obstinate). I will tell you nothing about that: they have not given me leave.

    ROBERT. But you actually see them; and they talk to you just as I am talking to you?

    JOAN. No: it is quite different. I cannot tell you: you must not talk to me about my voices.

    ROBERT. How do you mean? Voices?

    JOAN. I hear voices telling me what to do. They come from God.

    ROBERT. They come from your imagination.

    JOAN. Of course. That is how the messages of God come to us.

  3. The intellectual is more real than the sensible, because it is eternal and unchanging, while the sensible is always in flux. The sensible may be thought of as the reflection of the intellectual, with matter being the mirror. Because it is a reflection of something eternal, the sensible as a whole is similarly eternal and cannot be said to have been created, even as the things within it are born and die.

  4. The gods are the native inhabitants of the intellectual, and there are many kinds of them, ranging from truly mighty to very minor. Animals and plants and minerals are the native inhabitants of the sensible. "Dæmons" live at the interface between the two. (In modern English, we generally call these "angels" if they live on the intellectual side and "spirits" if they live on the sensible side.)

  5. Humans have a sort of amphibious existence, possessing both an intellectual soul and a sensible body. The higher gods (e.g. the Olympians of the Greeks) do not possess a body at all. The lower gods (e.g. the sun and moon and planets) are amphibious like we are (though their souls and bodies are much greater than ours).

  6. The higher gods are impersonal and, indeed, so fundamental to existence that it is difficult to conceive of them as people. (They are more like "forces," though unlike our modern notion of forces, they are sentient—or, rather, super-sentient.) Personal gods, like the Athena of the Odyssey, are, properly speaking, dæmons.

  7. Since one is prior to many at every level of existence, there is, in fact, a highest god. (Various authors call it "the God" as opposed to "a god" or "the gods." Plotinus calls this god "Soul.") In this sense, Neoplatonism is both monotheistic and polytheistic.

  8. The intellectual is itself a being, of an even higher sort than the gods. (Porphyry calls it "the father of the gods.") There is, in fact, an even more fundamental reality than the intellectual, called "the One" or "the Good," but it is impossible to reason about and may only be experienced.

  9. The intellectual world is characterized by unity, while the sensible world is characterized by separation. Conflict between the gods is not possible, and it is silly to think that, e.g., there was a war between the Greek gods and the Christian god: to the Neoplatonists, the Greek gods gracefully gave way to the Christian god as times moved on.

  10. To the Neoplatonists, the Greek myths generally aren't literally talking about the gods at all. (Trying to find theology in Homer or Hesiod requires a lot of mental gymnastics.) Instead they're using mythic language to describe other phenomena. (For example, the myths of Hades and Persephone, or Aphrodite and Adonis, etc., are actually about human souls.)

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Alice is the soul. The white rabbit is sensual desire. Wonderland is the material world. The Cheshire Cat is Socrates ("we're all mad, here"). The Queen of Hearts is physical trouble and death ("she never kills nobody, you know")...


John Denver (!?) is the soul. West Virginia is the Intellectual Realm ("life is old there, [...] younger than the mountains, [...]"). The country roads are philosophy...

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

God is the Intellect. The Garden of Eden is the Intellectual Realm. Adam is the soul. Eve is sensual desire. Adam following Eve rather than God is the soul "looking down." The skins they put on as they leave the Garden is the soul taking on body.


The sons of God are the soul. The daughters of men are the body. The lusting of one for the other causes the soul to be cast out of Intellectual Realm onto the earth and produces a the race of giants (humankind, of a dual nature and a giant among animals).


The father is the Intellect. The father's house is the Intellectual Realm. The prodigal son is the "downward-looking" soul. The faithful son is the "upward-looking" soul. The prodigal son's debauchery is the soul trapped in the body. The prodigal son's turning away from debauchery is how the soul returns to the Intellectual Realm.


Inanna is the soul. The underworld is the earth. The seven gates of the underworld are the seven spheres of the planets through which the soul descends on its way to the earth. The clothes and jewels taken off of Inanna at those gates are the lost beauty of the Intellectual Realm hidden in the reflection of the earth. Inanna's death is life in the material world. The hook that Inanna is hung upon is the body. Enki is wisdom. The mercurial beings that Enki sends to fetch Inanna back from the underworld is philosophy.


Osiris is the soul. Set is strife. The feast of the gods is life in the Intellectual Realm. Osiris trusting Set is the soul "looking down." The sarcophagus in which Osiris fits exactly is the body. Isis is love. The magic Isis uses to resurrect Osiris is philosophy.


Olympus is the Intellectual Realm. Zeus is the soul. Alcmene is the body. Heracles is the union of soul and body. Hera is the divine Law, punishing the union for the sin of the soul "looking down." Heracles' labors are the many lives (encompassing an entire Great Year) the union of soul and body undergoes in order to satisfy the Law and return the the Intellectual Realm.


Orpheus is the soul. Eurydice is the body. The earth is the Intellectual Realm. Hades is the material world. The marriage, Eurydice's death, and Orpheus following her is how the soul is bound to the material world. Orpheus' song is philosophy, and Hades' admonition is how the soul can return to the Intellectual Realm.


Narcissus is the soul. The pool is the material world. Narcissus' reflection is the body. Narcissus drowning from gazing at his reflection is how the soul gets locked up in body.


Dionysus is the soul. The Titans are the material world. The toys they lure Dionysus with are sensual desires. The Titans eating Dionysus is the soul being consumed by the material world. That Dionysus is split into many pieces is the soul being lost in the body. Rhea is love. The magic Rhea uses to resurrect Dionysus is philosophy.


Demeter is the Intellect. Persephone is the soul. Hades is the body. The kidnapping of Persephone is the soul being trapped in body. The pomegranate is sensual desire. Persephone eating the pomegranate is how the soul becomes trapped. Persephone only being able to visit Demeter for a few months of the year is the cycle of reincarnations.


I'd mention the Epic Cycle, but Thomas Taylor already did that for me at length.

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Who indeed, I suppose, could give greater voice to the changing of the guard than the Lyrist Himself?

Aye, if ye bear it, if ye endure to know
That Delphi's self with all things gone must go,
Hear with strong heart the unfaltering song divine
Peal from the laurelled porch and shadowy shrine.
High in Jove's home the battling winds are torn,
From battling winds the bolts of Jove are born;
These as he will on trees and towers he flings,
And quells the heart of lions or of kings;
A thousand crags those flying flames confound,
A thousand navies in the deep are drowned,
And ocean's roaring billows, cloven apart,
Bear the bright death to Amphitrite's heart.
And thus, even thus, on some long-destined day,
Shall Delphi's beauty shrivel and burn away,—
Shall Delphi's fame and fane from earth expire
At that bright bidding of celestial fire.

(Apollo, as quoted by Porphyry, as quoted by Eusebius, and as translated Frederic William Henry Myers)

sdi: Oil painting of the Heliconian Muse whispering inspiration to Hesiod. (Default)

Now that it's in the public domain, I had meant to transcribe Nock's translation of Concerning the Gods and the Universe, but this year has been quite a trial so far and doing so fell off of my radar.

Well, the transcription is now available: you can find the PDF in US Letter and A4 paper sizes. I still generally favor Murray's translation (as being more readable), but it's already readily available, and Nock's has some important corrections.

A couple notes regarding this one: I have not yet transcribed Nock's very helpful commentary (maybe another day!), I have omitted the original Greek, and I have limited the footnotes to those of a nontechnical nature (e.g. not meant for Greek scholars).

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Happy Wednesday! It is with some disappointment that I present this, the final chapter of On the Gods and the World, to you all! To everyone who joined in, please accept my gratitude: I've learned much, and while many of Sallustius' points still elude me, I feel as if I have a much better understanding of the material than when we began. The posts in this series will remain "open:" if anyone in the future has questions or comments about the material, please feel free to add them to any of these posts.

With that said, let us pick back up the puzzle-box for the last time, shall we?

XXI. That the Good are happy, both living and dead.

Souls that have lived in virtue are in general happy,* and when separated from the irrational part of their nature, and made clean from all matter, have communion with the gods and join them in the governing of the whole world. Yet even if none of this happiness fell to their lot, virtue itself, and the joy and glory of virtue, and the life that is subject to no grief and no master are enough to make happy those who have set themselves to live according to virtue and have achieved it.

* Gilbert Murray notes, "εὐδαιμονοῦσι ['eudaimonousi']." Literally, "possessed of a good dæmon:" blessed, fortunate.

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Good morning and happy Wednesday! Let us pick the puzzle-box back up on this, the penultimate chapter:

XX. On Transmigration of Souls, and how Souls are said to migrate into brute beasts.

If the transmigration of a soul takes place into a rational being, it simply becomes the soul of that body. But if the soul migrates into a brute beast, it follows the body outside, as a guardian spirit follows a man.* For there could never be a rational soul in an irrational being.

The transmigration of souls can be proved from the congenital afflictions of persons. For why are some born blind, others paralytic, others with some sickness in the soul itself? Again, it is the natural duty of Souls to do their work in the body; are we to suppose that when once they leave the body they spend all eternity in idleness?

Again, if the souls did not again enter into bodies, they must either be infinite in number or God must constantly be making new ones. But there is nothing infinite in the world; for in a finite whole there cannot be an infinite part. Neither can others be made; for everything in which something new goes on being created, must be imperfect. And the World, being made by a perfect author, ought naturally to be perfect.

* Thomas Taylor notes, "This beautiful doctrine, which seems to have originated from Syrianus and Proclus, was universally adopted by all the succeeding Platonists."

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Happy Wednesday! Let's pick the puzzle-box right back up, shall we?

XIX. Why sinners are not punished at once.

There is no need to be surprised if neither these sins nor yet others bring immediate punishment upon sinners. For it is not only Spirits* who punish the soul, the Soul brings itself to judgement: and also it is not right for those who endure for ever to attain everything in a short time: and also, there is need of human virtue. If punishment followed instantly upon sin, men would act justly from fear and have no virtue.

Souls are punished when they have gone forth from the body, some wandering among us, some going to hot or cold places of the earth, some harassed by Spirits. Under all circumstances they suffer with the irrational part of their nature, with which they also sinned. For its sake† there subsist that shadowy body‡ which is seen about graves, especially the graves of evil livers.§

* Gilbert Murray notes, "δαίμονες ['daimones']."

† Murray notes, "i. e. that it may continue to exist and satisfy justice."

‡ Thomas Taylor notes, "see my Introduction to, and translation of, Plato's Phædo."

§ Yes, Murray really says "evil livers." Arthur Darby Nock does, too. They are referring to the wicked, not to digestive organs.

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Happy Wednesday! I had an unusual amount of spare time over the last weekend, and so I went ahead and transcribed the rest of Sallustius in preparation for the next few weeks: we are getting quite close to the end, and will finish just after the vernal equinox. Nonetheless, I'll appreciate it while it lasts.

Let's go ahead and pick the puzzle-box back up, shall we?

XVIII. Why there are rejections of God, and that God is not injured.

Nor need the fact that rejections of God have taken place in certain parts of the earth* and will often take place hereafter, disturb the mind of the wise: both because these things do not affect the gods, just as we saw that worship did not benefit them; and because the soul, being of middle essence, cannot be always right; and because the whole world cannot enjoy the providence of the gods equally, but some parts may partake of it eternally, some at certain times, some in the primal manner, some in the secondary. Just as the head enjoys all the senses, but the rest of the body only one.

For this reason, it seems, those who ordained Festivals ordained also Forbidden Days, in which some temples† lay idle, some were shut, some had their adornment removed, in expiation of the weakness of our nature.

It is not unlikely, too, that the rejection of God is a kind of punishment: we may well believe that those who knew the gods and neglected them in one life may in another life be deprived of the knowledge of them altogether. Also those who have worshipped their own kings as gods have deserved as their punishment to lose all knowledge of God.‡

* "Rejections of God" is literally ἀθεΐαι ["atheiai"], atheism. Recall from Ch. I that the Greeks used "God" to refer to divinity generally. Thomas Taylor notes, "the philosopher alludes here to the Christian religion," and Arthur Darby Nock further observes, "Sallustius in effect replies to the Christian argument from their success."

† Nock notes, "Muccio, Studi italiani, VII. 70, makes ἱερά ['iera'] mean 'ceremonies:' this seems less probable."

‡ Nock comments, "The view of the deification of kings as a sin of the first magnitude is of considerable interest, whether we accept or reject Prof. G. Kaerst's view that the deification of Alexander and of the Diadochi promoted Euhemerist rationalism. These remarks would not have offended Julian. The knowledge of the gods which man may lose for his sins in a previous incarnation is γνῶσις ['gnosis'] in the heightened sense, a mystical knowledge conveying definite illumination."

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Happy Wednesday to you all once again: this week's chapter is longer than we've seen in a while. Let's pick the puzzle-box right back up, shall we?

XVII. That the World is by nature Eternal.

We have shown above that the gods will not destroy the world. It remains to show that its nature is indestructible.

Everything that is destroyed is either destroyed by itself or by something else. If the world is destroyed by itself, fire must needs burn itself and water dry itself. If by something else, it must be either by a body or by something incorporeal. By something incorporeal is impossible; for incorporeal things preserve bodies—nature, for instance, and soul—and nothing is destroyed by a cause whose nature is to preserve it. If it is destroyed by some body, it must be either by those which exist or by others.

If by those which exist: then either those moving in a straight line must be destroyed by those that revolve, or vice versa. But those that revolve have no destructive nature; else, why do we never see anything destroyed from that cause? Nor yet can those which are moving straight touch the others; else, why have they never been able to do so yet?

But neither can those moving straight be destroyed by one another: for the destruction of one is the creation of another; and that is not to be destroyed but to change.

But if the World is to be destroyed by other bodies than these it is impossible to say where such bodies are or whence they are to arise.

Again, everything destroyed is destroyed either in form or matter. (Form is the shape of a thing, matter the body.) Now if the form is destroyed and the matter remains, we see other things come into being. If matter is destroyed, how is it that the supply has not failed in all these years?

If when matter is destroyed other matter takes its place, the new matter must come either from something that is or from something that is not. If from that-which-is, as long as that-which-is always remains, matter always remains. But if that-which-is is destroyed, such a theory means that not the World only but everything in the universe is destroyed.

If again matter comes from that-which-is-not: in the first place, it is impossible for anything to come from that which is not; but suppose it to happen, and that matter did arise from that which is not; then, as long as there are things which are not, matter will exist. For I presume there can never be an end of things which are not.

If they say that matter <will become> formless: in the first place, why does this happen to the world as a whole when it does not happen to any part? Secondly, by this hypothesis they do not destroy the being of bodies, but only their beauty.

Further, everything destroyed is either resolved into the elements from which it came, or else vanishes into not-being. If things are resolved into the elements from which they came, then there will be others: else how did they come into being at all? If that-which-is is to depart into not-being, what prevents that happening to God himself? (Which is absurd.) Or if God's power prevents that, it is not a mark of power to be able to save nothing but oneself. And it is equally impossible for that-which-is to come out of nothing and to depart into nothing.

Again, if the World is destroyed, it must needs either be destroyed according to Nature or against Nature. Against Nature is impossible, for that which is against nature is not stronger than Nature.* If according to Nature, there must be another Nature which changes the Nature of the World: which does not appear.

Again, anything that is naturally destructible we can ourselves destroy. But no one has ever destroyed or altered the round body of the World. And the elements, though they can be changed, cannot be destroyed. Again, everything destructible is changed by time and grows old. But the world through all these years has remained utterly unchanged.

Having said so much for the help of those who feel the need of very strong demonstrations, I pray the World himself† to be gracious to me.

* Gilbert Murray notes, "The text here is imperfect: I have followed Mullach's correction."

Arthur Darby Nock translates the paragraph, "Then too, the universe, if it perishes, must perish either in accordance with nature or contrary to nature. <If it perishes in accordance with nature, then the making and continuance till now of the universe prove to be unnatural, and yet nothing is made contrary to nature,> nor does what is contrary to nature take precedence over nature. If it perishes contrary to nature, there must be another nature changing the nature of the universe, and this we do not see."

† Nock gives "itself." (Thomas Taylor uses a construction which avoids pronouns altogether.)

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Good morning and a happy Wednesday! Sallustius has another brief appendix for us this week, continuing last week's theme on the purpose of worship, so let's pick the puzzle-box back up, shall we?

XVI. Concerning sacrifices and other worships, that we benefit man by them, but not the gods.

I think it well to add some remarks about sacrifices. In the first place, since we have received everything from the gods, and it is right to pay the giver some tithe of his gifts, we pay such a tithe of possessions in votive offerings, of bodies in gifts of <hair and> adornment, and of life in sacrifices. Then secondly, prayers without sacrifices are only words, with sacrifices they are live words; the word gives meaning to the life, while the life animates the word. Thirdly, the happiness of every object is its own perfection; and perfection for each is communion with its own cause. For this reason we pray for communion with the Gods. Since, therefore, the first life is the life of the gods, but human life is also life of a kind, and human life wishes for communion with divine life, a mean term is needed. For things very far apart cannot have communion without a mean term, and the mean term must be like the things joined; therefore the mean term between life and life must be life. That is why men sacrifice animals; only the rich do so now, but in old days everybody did, and that not indiscriminately, but giving the suitable offerings to each god together with a great deal of other worship. Enough of this subject.

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Good morning and happy Wednesday! Let us pick the puzzle-box back up, shall we?

XV. Why we give worship to the Gods when they need nothing.

This solves the question about sacrifices and other rites performed to the Gods. The Divine itself is without needs, and the worship is paid for our own benefit. The providence of the Gods reaches everywhere and needs only some congruity* for its reception. All congruity comes about by representation and likeness; for which reason the temples are made in representation of heaven, the altar of earth, the images of life (that is why they are made like living things), the prayers of the element of thought, the mystic letters† of the unspeakable celestial forces, the herbs and stones of matter, and the sacrificial animals of the irrational life in us.

From all these things the Gods gain nothing; what gain could there be to God? It is we who gain some communion with them.

* Gilbert Murray notes, "ἐπιτηδειότης ['epitedeiotes']." Thomas Taylor and Arthur Darby Nock both give "fitness."

† Concerning these "mystic letters," Murray references a different section of his book on the history of Greek religion, which reads, "The planets in their seven spheres surrounding the earth continued to be objects of adoration. They had their special gods or guiding spirits assigned them. Their ordered movements through space, it was held, produce a vast and eternal harmony. It is beautiful beyond all earthly music, this Music of the Spheres, beyond all human dreams of what music might be. The only pity is that—except for a few individuals in trances—nobody has ever heard it. Circumstances seem always to be unfavourable. It may be that we are too far off, though, considering the vastness of the orchestra, this seems improbable. More likely we are merely deaf to it because it never stops and we have been in the middle of it since we first drew breath.

"The planets also become Elements in the Kosmos, Stoicheia. It is significant that in Hellenistic theology the word Stoicheion, Element, gets to mean a Dæmon—as Megathos, Greatness, means an Angel. But behold a mystery! The word Stoicheia, 'elementa', had long been used for the Greek A B C, and in particular for the seven vowels α ε η ι ο υ ω. That is no chance, no mere coincidence. The vowels are the mystic signs of the Planets; they have control over the planets. Hence strange prayers and magic formulæ innumerable."

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Good morning and happy Wednesday once again! This week's short chapter marks two thirds of the way through Sallustius. No footnotes this week, so let us dive right in and pick the puzzle-box back up, shall we?

XIV. In what sense, though the Gods never change, they are said to be made angry and appeased.

If any one thinks the doctrine of the unchangeableness of the Gods is reasonable and true, and then wonders how it is that they rejoice in the good and reject the bad, are angry with sinners and become propitious when appeased, the answer is as follows: God does not rejoice—for that which rejoices also grieves; nor is he angered—for to be angered is a passion; nor is he appeased by gifts—if he were, he would be conquered by pleasure.

It is impious to suppose that the Divine is affected for good or ill by human things. The Gods are always good and always do good and never harm, being always in the same state and like themselves. The truth simply is that, when we are good, we are joined to the Gods by our likeness to them; when bad, we are separated from them by our unlikeness. And when we live according to virtue we cling to the gods, and when we become evil we make the gods our enemies—not because they are angered against us, but because our sins prevent the light of the gods from shining upon us, and put us in communion with spirits of punishment. And if by prayers and sacrifices we find forgiveness of sins, we do not appease or change the gods, but by what we do and by our turning towards the Divine we heal our own badness and so enjoy again the goodness of the gods. To say that God turns away from the evil is like saying that the sun hides himself from the blind.

sdi: Photograph of the title page of Sallustius' "On the Gods and the World." (on the gods and the world)

Happy Wednesday! We are officially past the main body of Sallustius and onto the appendices. That doesn't mean these chapters are any less meaty, though: so let's pick the puzzle-box right back up, shall we?

XIII. How things eternal* are said to "be made."†

Concerning the Gods and the World and human things this account will suffice for those who are not able to go through the whole course of philosophy but yet have not souls beyond help.

It remains to explain how these objects were never made and are never separated one from another, since we ourselves have said above that the secondary substances were "made" by the first.

Everything made is made either by art or by a physical process or according to some power.‡ Now in art or nature the maker must needs be prior to the made: but the maker, according to power, constitutes the made absolutely together with itself, since its power is inseparable from it; as the sun makes light, fire makes heat, snow makes cold.

Now if the Gods make the world by art, they do not make it be, they make it be such as it is. For all art makes the form of the object. What therefore makes it to be?

If by a physical process, how in that case can the maker help giving part of himself to the made? As the Gods are incorporeal, the World ought to be incorporeal too. If it were argued that the Gods were bodies, then where would the power of incorporeal things come from? And if we were to admit it, it would follow that when the world decays, its maker must be decaying too, if he is a maker by physical process.

If the Gods make the world neither by art nor by physical process, it only remains that they make it by power. Everything so made subsists together with that which possesses the power. Neither can things so made be destroyed, except the power of the maker be taken away: so that those who believe in the destruction of the world,§ either deny the existence of the gods, or, while admitting it, deny God's power.

Therefore he who makes all things by his own power makes all things subsist together with himself. And since his power is the greatest power he must needs be the maker not only of men and animals, but of Gods, men, and spirits.‖ And the further removed the First God is from our nature, the more powers there must be between us and him.¶ For all things that are very far apart have many intermediate points between them.

* Thomas Taylor translates this word as "perpetual" and notes, "the Platonic philosophy makes a just and beautiful distinction between το αϊδιον ['to aidion'], the perpetual, and το αιωνιον ['to aionion'], the eternal. 'For the eternal,' says Olympiodorus, 'is a total now exempt from the past and future circulations of time, and totally subsisting in a present abiding now: but the perpetual subsists indeed always, but is behld in the three parts of time, the past, present, and future: hence we call God eternal on account of his being unconnected with time; but we do not denominate him perpetual, because he does not subsist in time.' Olympiodorus in Arist. Meteor. Hence the world may be properly called perpetual, but not eternal, as Boethius well observes; and the philosopher Sallust well knowing this distinction, uses, with great accuracy, the word perpetual in this chapter instead of the word eternal."

† Gilbert Murray notes, "γίγνεσθαι ['gignesthai']."

‡ Murray notes, "κατὰ δύναμιν ['kata dynamin'], secundum potentiam quandam; i. e. in accordance with some indwelling 'virtue' or quality." Arthur Darby Nock notes in his commentary, "creation κατὰ δύναμιν, as we have seen earlier, involves no toil for the gods."

§ Taylor notes, "meaning the Christians."

‖ Murray notes, "the repetition of ἀνθρώπους ['anthropous'] in this sentence seems to be a mistake." Taylor simply omits the second mention of "men," and Nock translates it as "angels (?)."

¶ Taylor notes, "for a more ample confirmation of the necessity that there should be gods posterior to the first, see my Introduction to the Parmenides."

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