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LUCRETIUS_ ON THE NATURE OF THINGS TRANSLATED BY CYRIL BAILEY FaLLOW 0' BALLIOL COLUGI OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS P4 G1-J7S E5 /33 ('.1 Oxford
LUCRETIUS_ ON THE NATURE OF THINGS TRANSLATED BY CYRIL BAILEY FaLLOW 0' BALLIOL COLUGI OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS P4 G1-J7S E5 /33 ('.1 Oxford University Press, Amtn House, London E.C.4 G1.A5GOW NEW YORIt TORONTO II~L80VRNt WIltLLIKGTOM BOMBAY CALCUTTA )lADRAS Arlt TOWN Gtoffrty Cumberleg,Publislur to tnt Univtrsity INDIANA UNIVERSITY LIBRAR'Y SOUTH BEND FIRST PUBLISHED 1910 REPRIIITED 1920, 1921, 1923 1924, 1928, 1936, 1946, 1948 PRIIITItD III GREAT BRITAIN PREFACE No one can set about tnnslating Lucretius into English without finding his head full of the great work of H. A. J. Munro. It ia not only that certain striking phrases ring in one's ears-dtai claustra, the Iastnesses of life,' olu UrminuJ baerms, the deepset boundary-mark,' &c.- but one is possessed with a atrong feeling that he has finally set the tone or colour which Lucretius iu English must assume. Itmight indeed be thought that with so fine a model in existence it is unnecessary and unprofitable to undertake the task again. But there are, I think, good reason. to justify the attempt. In the first place, the study of Lucretius has made considerable advances since Munro's edition: thanks largely to Dr. Brieger and still more to the late Professor Giussani,l the philosophy of Epicurus is far better understood than it was, and, as a consequence, much light has been thrown on many dark places in the poem, and its general grouping and connexion can be far more clearly grasped. Secondly, though Munro set the tone, he did not always keep it: in the more technical parts of the poem he i. apt to drop almost into the language of a scientific textbook, and phrases and even passages of sheer prose give the In eer own country Or. 101..."", (Lucretiu.: Epicur~.n .nd Poet) hu recentl,. .ritten yery ,uggestiYe, though not .I ....y. accur.te, sketch or LUCre11UI'. relations to hit predeceuou .nd to modern edenh6c ideal, aDd hu mOlt succeufulJy reprueotecl Ih pirit oi the poem. ,.1 PrtJatt reader the idea that Lucretius'. muse allowed him only a fitful inspiration. While acknowledging then my debt to Munro for the main .pirit of the translation and often for words and phuses which seemed to me inevitable, I have tried at once to embody the resulu of more recent Lucretian scholarship, and to preserve a more equable level of atyle, which will, I hope, leave the impression that the De Rerum Natura, even in iu most scientific discussions, is Itill poetry. I have translated from my own text published in the Bibliotheca Oxoniensi. in 1898, but in the-I fearnumerous places, where I have since altered my opinion, I have taken what I now believeto be the right reading or the belt suggestion and added the warning of a footnote. I have appended lome notes for the general reader, which are intended either to explain allusions or to elucidate what seemed to me difficult or obscure passages in the light of the general Epicurean theory. I wlsh to thank the Rector of Lincoln for several valuable .uggestions, and Professor H. H. Turner for much help ill the elucidation of the astronomical problem. raised in Book V. C. B. 1 In the present reprint the translation has been adapted to the second edition of the text in the Bibliotheca Oxoniensis (19z I). C. B. March, 19Z1. INTRODUCTION 0, the three great Latin poeu Lucretius aeems to make the most peculiar appeal to our own ase. Catullua and Virgil are for all time; the passionate love-history of a genuine soul and a poet of marvellously wide range, the all-embracing yet findy pessimistic .ympathy of a mind which could focus past and future in the consciousness of present crisis, will find their response in all generations. Dut Lucretius-possibly because from the point of view of universality he ltanda a little below the other two=-seems to demand for full appreciation a rather special temper. Hi. are not the interests of every man, nor il his a common attitude to life. A fierce hatred of conventional superstitions and a yearning for intellectualliberty coupled with a sense of awe-in reality-in the presence of nature, a strong desire for scientific method and accuracy of observation combined with a profound feeling of the beauty of tile world and ita works, an unswerving consciousness of natural law and the .equence of cause and effect counteracted by an equal stubbornness in defence of man'l moral freedom-these are qualities which may engage attention, but cannot at all time. awaken a vital Iympathy Yet these are antitheses familiar enough to our generation, and this i. an attitude of mind which we are peculiarly qualified to undentand. The antagonism of Religion and Science, the relation of the investigation to the 6 Introduc tion love of Nature, the opposition of Natural Law and Freewill are themes which seem very near to us. Only we must be careful not to interpret the past by the present. To each generation its problems present themselves in their own peculiar manner, and we must endeavour to understand Lucretius not as a contemporary, but as an Epicurean of the last century B. c. It was eminently a period of disturbance and dissolution, intellectually as well as socially and politically. The Republican regime was breaking down, and with it the system of morals and beliefs on which it rested. The genuine Roman religion-the belief in the numina, the countless little impersonal 'spirits', always' about man's path and about his bed', mostly hostile by instinct, but capable of pacification by simple gifts and easy acts of worship-had long ago lost its hold on the life of the city, or at the most lingered on here and there in the old-fashioned piety of a household cult. The imposing structure of the State-worship, raised as the primitive agricultural community developed into a commercial city, and consolidated when the great wave of Greek culture anthropomorphized numina into dei, gave them temples and statues, and organized ceremonials and priesthoods, remained still untouched in form, but the form was empty. Magistrates and priests duly sacrificed the appropriate victims, augurs watched for . omens and blessed or stayed proceedings, the populace kept holiday on the festivals, but little real religious feeling remained, except a vague sense of the insecurity of life owing to the malevolent interference of divine beings, and an abiding fear of death and the punishments of a life to come. The more recent introduction of Introduction 7 Oriental cults, which had obtained a great influence over the popular mind, had but heightened these terrors, by. adding an ecstatic and orgiastic form of worship, which through excitement and reaction gave an unnatural and intermittent character to religion, essentiallyforeign to the sober and straightforward temperament of the Roman. Among the educated classesin consequence a profound scepticism prevailed. When Q. Mucius Scaevola1 advocated the maintenance of religion among the populace as a political asset, he was but voicing what had for a generation been the practice of the ruling classes. Cicero, the Augur, could discuss2 the fundamental assumptions of his art and arrive at a very unfavourable conclusion; Caesar, the acknowledged sceptic, was selected to direct the whole system of religious worship as Pontifez Maximus, But a pure scepticism cannot satisfy any type of mind, least of all the Reman, and Greek culture, which had introduced the diseuse,brought also the antidote in philosophy. Philosophy professed to place men above the conflict of religions and to give them what religion did not claim to offer, a guide to moral conduct. It seems strange at first sight that the two greatest philosophies of Greece-those of Plato and Aristotleshould have made so little impression on the Roman mind, attracting only a few strong intellects like Cicero's, and even then only to a very eclectic and almost dilettante study, But the reason is not really far to seek: not only were the idealism of Plato and the intellectualism of Aristotle alien to the plain Roman mind, but morally both syatema rested essentially on the conception of the State, on the identification of the good man and the good I St. Augustine, de Civ. Del, iv. 27. t Dc Divinatlone, 8 Introduction Citizen. It was just this conception which with the fall of the Republic was' breaking down, and philosophy, if it was to help the sceptical Roman, must be individualistic: he wanted to know about himself and his conduct as a single human being. In the corresponding period of the history of Athens, when the city-state had given place to the monarchy of Macedon, and that again had fallen into the disruption of the rule of the Successors" two creeds had arisen to supply the need. Stoicism with its assertion of the divine element in the world and the mind of man had appealed to the more directly religious natures; the doctrine of Epicurus, founded on the atomic materialism of Democritus, made its waywith those more inclined to a matter-of-fact scientific outlook on life. And so now in Rome these two philosophies answered the demand, and as men drifted away from religion, they divided themselves almost unconsciously into the rival camps of the Stoics and Epicureans. Into this atmosphere Lucretius grewup. Of his personal history we are singularly ignorant. By a comparison of an entry in Jerome's FastP and a casual note in Donatus's Life of Virgil,2 and an attempt to reconcile their disagreement by considerations of probability, we can arrive at the conclusion that he was born in 94 B. c. and died in 55. We have a romantic story,3 which has been very variously interpreted, that he was poisoned by a love-philtre, wrote some poems in his lucid intervals and finally committed suicide '. We are told that Cicero edited' the poem-a statement whose meaning is again much vexed-and a recently discovered RenaisI Cbron. Euseb, Jerome, L Co I Reifferscbeid, Suetoo. reliq., p. 55. Introduction 9 sance 1 Life' gives us what purport to be details of his criticism: I we know for certain that by 54 B. c. both Cicero and his brother had read the poem and communicated to each other their opinions on it. We are aware that the Lucretii were a family of good standing in Rome, and Lucretius's friendship with Memmius suggests that he too was-or might have been, if he had wished it-in the society of his day: the' Borgian Life' givesus the names of others, prominent philosophers and public men, with whom he was familiar. But beyond that we must be content to know nothing, nor indeed could any addition of external details add much to the unmistakable picture of his personality which the poem itself presents to us. A keen active mind, eager in its pursuit of truth and not shrinking from hard thought in the attainment of its end, or from intellectual labour in the attempt to present it to others; and a profound poetic sensitiveness, alive at once to the greatness and the beauty of nature, and instinct with the feeling for accuracy in expressionand the consciousness of the revealing power of language in its sudden flashes' 3 -these are characteristics which strike one at once. And the closer study of the poem seems to disclose another feature almost equally marked. Whether or no we accept the legend of the love-philtre and the idea of insanity, we cannot refuse the testimony of the poem itself to an abnormal and even morbid strain in its author's character. The fierceness of the unceasing attack on the religious point of view-even on its shadow in a I See Masson, Lucretlus ; Epicurean and Poet, '01. i. pp. 38ft". and '01. ii. pp. 1-13. I Cic. Ep. ad Q. Fr. ii. II. lumina inK'''U, Cic. 1. c. 10 introduction teleological interpretation of nature; 1 the unnatural virulence of the onslaught on iove; 2 the almost brooding pessimism with which he anticipates the coming destruction of the world; 3 such are the signs which lead one to think of Lucretius as a not quite normal personalityperhaps even not quite sane. Lucretius then approached the problems of his age with a strongly-marked temper and a very decided bias. It was not sufficient for him 'ro take up, as did so many of his contemporaries, a position of sceptical indifference towards religion. Nor could he, like the Stoics, attempt to get rid of the grosser elements of superstition and yet retain a purified belief in the divine control of the world, reconciling the conflicts of religion in a kind of religious philosophy. Religion was his enemy and he could have no truce with it, for he saw in it the cause of the greater part of the sorrows and even the crimes. of human life. The whole theological view must be eradicated from men's minds before they could even begin to live a life worthy of the gods'.6 Naturally enough then he turned to the philosophy of Epicurus: he had had the same battle to fight: it was he who, when the life of man lay foul and grovelling upon the earth crushed by the weight of religion dared first to raise his mortal eyesto meet her and in mind and spirit traversed the boundless whole:' 6 he was the real god',7 who had taught that the power of the gods over the world was nought. In the philosophy of Epicurus Lucretius had found his own rest, and it was the purpose of his life 8 1 iv. 8~3J 1'. IIO, &c. i.8~If., iii. 591f. t y.8. iv. loS81f. hi. lH. i931 Y. 104 If. i.631f. Introduction II to put that philosophy at the service of his countrymen and so deliver them too from the tyranny of religion. But it would be the greatest mistake to think of Lucretius or his master as the author of a mere polemic against religion. Still lessis Epicurus justly represented-as has' sometimes been the case-as patching together from various sources a crude piecemeal view of the world to combat superstition and afford a plausible basis for a moral theory of doubtful moral tendency. If there is one point that modern work at Epicureanism tends to reveal, it is that it was a serious philosophy, a consistent whole derived from a single starting-point and following step by step with logical precision. As such Lucretius had learnt it, and as such he intended to present it, and many of the: difficulties which modern critics have found in his detail, many of the puerilities at which they have scoffed, arc to be explained by the perfectly consistent and relentless application of his fundamental principles. He has seemed trivial or inconsistent or obscure to his critics, because they would not take him seriously enough. It will not be possible here to deal in any detail with the Epicurean system, and indeed, in most of its aspects it will gradually unfold itself in the De Rerum Natura, but it will be well to call attention to certain fundamental points with regard to it, which Lucretius has rather assumed than stated, but which are of vital importance for the understanding of his poem, and the comprehension of its essential unity. First, however, we must very briefly consider the origin of the system. It is commonly said that Epicurus adopted the atomic theory of Democritus to act as a physical basis for his moral theory that 12. Introduction the end of life was pleasure '. This i. in a very limited sense true. The long debate of the pre-Socratic physical philosophers as to the ultimate constitution of the universe had led up to the hypothesis, first propounded by Leucippus and greatly strengthened and elaborated by Democritus of Abdera (eire. 430 B.C.), that the physical basis of the world was infinite atoms, tiny, eternal, indivisible particles of matter, possessingand differing in size, shape and weight.! and moving in infinite space. This conclusion with many of the deductions from it and much of Democritus's elaboration of detail Epicurus accepted, and combined with it the theory that pleasure was the highest good, but in no mere casual spirit of eclecticism. He believed pleasure to be the moral end, because that, as we shall see, was an immediate deduction from his one fundamental principle j he accepted Democritus's atomism, because that alone of all theories of the world known to him was consistent with his fundamental principle-and yet in his very maintenance of that principle he most conspicuously differed from Democrirus, The principle concerned the root-problem of metaphysics: how do we get our knowledge 1 are we to trust our senses or our reason, or both or neither? The question had been raised at a comparatively early stage in pre-Socratic speculation, and had forced itself more and more into prominence as theories of the world became more and more remote from the experience of every-day consciousness, until Parmenides, who believed 1 There is, as a matter of fact, considerable doubt whether Dernocritus attributed weight to the atoms, but I am inclined to believe that he did. Introduction 13 the world to be a corporeal plenum, had declared wholeheartedly for reason and identified the 'way of the lenses' with the 'way of error '. Democritus had pushed scepticism a Itep further: reason rested upon the senses, and if the lenses were untrustworthy, still more so must reason be: 'wretched mind,' he represents the senses as saying, from us you received your belief, yet you overthrow us; your victory is your defeat.' 1 Epicurus approached the problem as the plain man: he must have a sure basis for the structure of his system, and no scepticism at the root. The keystone of the whole Epicurean philosophy i. the simple assertion: sensation is true,' I know what I feel.' On this one foundation all is built. Wherever the senses give us evidence, we are to accept their evidence as finally and certainly true: where they do not, as for instance, in considering the ultimate constitution of the world,' they are still supreme; we must reject any hypothesis which is contradicted by the evidence of sense, and accept as equally probable any explanations that are consistent with it. Now Lucretius doe. not start with this fundamental principle: he does not even approach the discussion of it until the fourth Boole.! But on the zther hand he is always assuming it and acting on it, and to understand his line of thought it must always be borne in mind. The sun and the moon, for instance, are the same size as we see them to be :' there the senses Galen, de med, ernp, 1259,8 i Diels B. 125. Dcmocritus's exact position iI ?ery difficult to make out, but it Items that he accepted the evidence of the lenses Cor the primary properties, size, shape, and weight, but regarded it with suspicion for all other qualities I in other words he held that touch alone among the senses could be trusted. I Diogenes Laertius, x. 50, &c. it'... 69 If. v. 56.. If. Introduction give us evidence and we must not attempt to go behind it. The sequence of night and day,l the orbits of the heavenly bodies,2 eclipses3 may be explained in several ways, some of which to our .mind appear trivial; but these are caseswhere the sensesprovide no direct evidence, and we must therefore accept as equally worthy of consideration all hypotheses which they do not contradict. Above all, it is this principle which prompts him again and again to appeal for support in his theories of imperceptible things to the analogy of the perceptible: the trust in the senses is the ultimate cause of those many illustrations from common experience, which are 80 largely responsible for the beauty and the poetic wealth of the whole poem. Let us pursue this line of thought a little further. Of what do the senses give us evidence 1 Of nothing but a material world: matter then is the one reality. But can the existence of matter alone give us a world as we know itl No, for our sensestell us of a world of matter in motion," and things cannot move without space to move in: . there must then be empty space. And in what form does this matter exist? The section in the middle of the first Book," in which Lucretius criticizes rival theories of the world, shows us how Epicurus applied his principle: some schools deny the existence of void, which makes motion impossible; 6 others permit infinite division, which precludes permanence; 7 some propose a fundamental matter that is unstable, for it changes into other things,S others one tllat is perishable, for it is 1 v, /i~o fT. Y. 614 If. v. 751 If. Sextus Emp. ad.., math. i. 213; cr. Lucr, i. 329 If. i.635-920, i. 655. 7.P. 843. ' i. 746. 84+ i. 665. ~63, Introduction I) of the same nature as perceptible things) The only theory which is found not to be contradicted, but rather supported by the evidence of the senses, is an atomic theory. Finally, lest the supply of matter should run short, the atoms must be infinite in number,! and, lest it should all congregate 'at the bottom', space must be infinite in extent.s Epicurus has then arrived at the atomism of Democritus, not, however, as an arbitrary choice, but as a direct deduction from the primary assertion of the infallibility of sense-perception. And in this atomic system Epicurus and Lucretius find their refutation of the pretensions of religion, the release from the two great terrors which beset man's mind, the fear of the arbitrary intervention of the gods in life, and the fear of the punishment of an immortal soul after death. For the atomic system, capable of being worked out in detail throughout the whole realm of the universe, can show how every phenomenon is but the result of natural causes. The atoms in the void, obeying the law of their own nature, falling downwards owing to their weight,4 meeting and clashing,i form first into little molecules, then into larger masses, and ultimately build up the whole universe of worlds, planted about here and there in infinite space, and all things, down to the smallest, contained in them. Nature, acting by law and yet without purpose--' for not by design did the first-beginnings of things place themselves each in their order with foreseeing mind but by trying movements and unions of every kind, at last they fall into such dispositions as those, whereby our world 1 f. 753, 8-47. i. 1008. i. 988. Ii. 18+ 6 ii, 311). Introduttion of things is created' Lacting indeed blindly and occasionally with a kind of spontaneity which seems like chance/~ Nature made all the worlds and all that in them is '. There is no need lor the aid of the gods, there is not even room for their interference. They are rather a part of nature'. creation, immortal creatures,' of a body of infinitely subtle formation,' dwelling apart in the interspaces between the worlds ',', in regions where falls not hail or rain or any snow, nor ever wind blowsloudly',6 an example and an ideal in their untroubled calm to man, but utterly unconcerned with the movements of the world or human affairs. As for the soul, it is, like all other things, a corporeal aggregate of atoms,7 which owes its sensation to the shape and movements of its constituents.f and its union with the body: 9 neither can exist without the other, at death the soul is dissolved just like the body,lOand it can have nothing to fear for all time to come.l! Nature then has freed man alike from the tyranny of the gods and the fear of death, and in the knowledge of nature he will find not only the guarantee of his freedom, but the highest pleasure of hi, free life. But is man free' 1 The exclusion of the gods from the workings of the universe has been accomplished by the establishment of law, the demonstration of the natural sequence of cause and effect from the first downward movement of the atoms to the formation of the newest thing' in the remotest world. Is man then ,1 i. 1021 If. Be it by the chance or the force of nature,' vi. 31. v. 1175. v. 1~6 If. Cie, de Nat. Deor, i. 8. 18. iii. 19' ' iii. 161. ii. 89+ iii.323 iii417-829. 11 iii. 838. Introduction 17 alone exempt from this chain of causation 1 has he the power to direct his own actions, or i. he too ruled by this inexorable destiny, so that his smallest act is but the inevitable outcome of all that has precededl Democritus had already been confronted with this problem and had boldly answered it with an absolute determinism: man's actions are no exception to the universal law, free-will is but a delusion. But for Epicurus this answer would not do: man's conduct was his primary interest, and it is no use, he thought, telling a man what he ought to do, unless he is free to do it. Even the tyranny of religion is better than the tyranny of destiny.l Besides, Epicurus on his own fundamental principles had a good reason to fight for free-will; for it is a matter ofimmediate consciousness: we k.now':I that from time to time we assert our independence of the great claim of causation: C we feel' our freedom and it cannot therefore be denied. Yet how isit to be preserved 1 Is man to be an exception to the universal law, or can it be otherwise accounted fod Epicurus's answer, the swerve' a of the atoms, has always been ridiculed, but, whatever may be thought of it, it is not to be regarded as a weak admission, but rather as a cardinal point in the system, second only in importance to the infallibility of the senses, and again reached by a strict logical deduction. For if man's will is free, it cannot be by special exemption granted him, but because of some principle inherent in the very firstbeginnings: man can do what he will because there i. an element of spontaneity-not of course conscious spontaneity-in the atoms. It is the swerve' then which enables the atoms to meet in their downward J Diog. Laert, x. 134. ~.lli ii. a61. ii. u61i'. B 18 Introduction fall, it is the swerve' which preserves in inorganic nature that curious element of spontaneity which we call chance,1 and it is the swerve', become conscious in the sensitive aggregate of the atoms of the mind, which secures man's freedom of action and makes it possible to urge on him a theory of conduct. Lastly then-for though Lucretius never explicitly deals with it, it emerges to the surface again and again in the poem-we must very shortly consider the moral theory of Epicurus. Let us go back once more to the fundamental principle. In the sphere of conduct, of action and suffering, has immediate sensation any evidence to give us comparable to the evidence of sense-perception in the field of knowledge1 Clearly it hasin the immediate perceptions of pleasure and pain: we all feel them, we all instinctively seekpleasure and avoid pain. Epicurus then has his answer at once: pleasure is the moral good; sensation tells us so, and we cannot attempt to go behind it. But what does pleasure' mean? to what practical conduct will its adoption as the aim of life lead us? Two points in the physical theory are here ofimportance: firstly, that man, in Epicurus's idea, is always essentially a compound of body and soul; secondly, that pain is dislocation of atomic arrangements and motions, pleasure, their readjustment and equilibrium. Pleasure then must be of body and soul alike, and it will show itself in the calm that denotes atomic equilibrium. It is seen at once that Epicurus's doctrine is no recommendation of mere vulgar pleasures of sensuality, as it has sometimes been represented. The body must have its pleasure, but the This point is much disputed, but see Guyau, La Morale d't:picare, pp, 70 It Introduction true pleasure is not such as brings attendant pain in the form either of anticipation or reaction: rather, we shall secure its pleasure best by maintaining its health and restricting its desires within the narrowest possible limits. Lucretius has given us a pleasing picture of the Epicurean picnic '-a full satisfaction of the bodily needs: men lie in friendly groups on the soft grass near some stream of water under the branches of a tall tree and at no great cost delightfully refresh their bodies, above all when the weather smiles on them and the season of the year bestrews the green grass with flowers.'l And with the pleasures of the soul the principle is the lame. First it must be relieved of its peculiar pains, the fear of the gods and the fear of death: and then it may give itself up to its own particular pleasure, the study-not of rhetoric,2 for in the private life of the individual that has no place, not of mathematics,3 or literature,4 for they deal with mere words, not thingsbut of nature: and so the highest pleasure of the mind isthe acquisition of that knowledge which will incidentally free it from its pains. Epicurean pleasure is indeed simple of acquisition, and men are strangely blind that they do not recognize it: to think that ye should not see that nature cries aloud for nothing else but that pain may be kept far sundered from the body, and that, withdrawn from care and fear, the mind may enjoy the sense of pleasure.' 5 The ideal for the individual then is not far to seek, and Epicurus is above all an individualist. But a man cannot live his life quite alone and he must have relations with his fellows: how are they to be regulated] .AJ 1 0. 19 ff. Eucl. elem, 3u. Plut. contr, Ep. beat. 13. 1095'. ii. 16 It B :& 20 Introduction one would expect, Epicurus treats the other-regarding' virtues with scant respect: they are but of secondary importance and necessary only in so far as they secure the individual from interruption in the pursuit of his own pleasure. Justice, the summing up of the relations between man and man, is a convention: Lucretius describes to us how, when primitive man came to unite in a common life, neighbours began eagerly to form friendship with one another, not to hurt or be harmed.' 1 The individual retains his freedom by a compact, and for his own sake respects his neighbours. But beyond that he is but little concerned with them. He will not enter public life or attempt to hold office,for ambition and the cares of rule are among the most disturbing influences which can beset the mind: it is far better to obey in peace than to long to rule the world with kingly power and to sway kingdoms.' 2 Even in private life he will learn not to trust too much to others, for his life must be independent. Friendships he will form, for friendship based on the common study of philosophy is one of the highest blessings of life: such friendship Lucretius hopes for with Memmius.3 But love-the giving up of oneself to one's affections and the complete dependence on another's will-the philosopher will of all things eschew: Lucretius's denunciations in the fourth Book4 are unmistakable. It is not perhaps a very attractive picture of the philosopher in isolation, pursuing his own pleasure and disregarding others, but it is again a relentless deduction from first principles, and it explains many casual touches in Lucretius. These hints may serve to make clear 1 v. 1019. v.1139. i. 140. some of the iv. 1058 II. Introduction 21 salient points in the Epicurean theory which in Lucretius'. own treatment are somewhat obscured, and to show how the whole system isreally knit together by the single principle of the certainty of sensation. For those who like to find in antiquity the anticipation of modern ideas and hypotheses 1Lucretius is of course instinct with interest. The physicist will find in him the germs of the modern atomic theory, which in its most recent development seems more likely than ever to come back to the notion of uniform homogeneous' first-beginnings' : the biologist will find notable anticipations of the hypothesis of the formation of species by evolutionary experiments and the survival of the fittest,2 and in the idea of the spontaneous , swerve' of the atoms a supposition not far remote from the modern speculations of W. K. Clifford and Haeckel : the anthropologist will see a picture of primitive man startlingly likethat to which modern investigation has led,. and all the more noticeable in that the current notions of Lucretius's time looked backto a primitive' Golden Age' : the moral philosopher will discover the foundation both of Hedonism and Utilitarianism, and the political scientist will recognize the familiar description of the Social Contract+ But to the general reader what will come home most is the spirit of the whole, the problems with which Lucretius is faced and the general attitude in which he goes to meet them. And if one is to appreciate this fully, it is more than all else necessary to have the clear conception of the main principles and their fearless application. I Several lnteresnng and luggesth e chapters on this subject will be found in Masson', Lucretius: Epicurean and Poet. I Y. 837-77. Y. 9'5-114- Y. 101(0. Introduction It is often asked whether a didactic work can be real poetry, and certainly didactic poetry must stand or fall by the answer given in the case of Lucretius, for not even Hesiod or the Georgia can put forward a higher claim. It is easy, of course, to point to long tracts of scientific discussion, to call them arid', or to characterize them as scanning prose': it is just to urge that a few or even many great passages of sustained poetic beauty cannot in themselves save a poem, if they are sundered by such deserts. It is not difficult to reply by pointing, as Cicero did,1 to the flashes of genius' in the poem, whether they be the wonderful descriptions, such as that of the cow who has lost her calf,Sor the distant view of the flock on the hillside,3or those quieter flashes' of poetic painting,-the flower of flame ',. the ice of brass,' I) the shells painting the lap of the earth ' 6~which in a moment transform argument with imagination. It might be maintained rather more subtly that there is high poetic quality in the very exactness of the expression of the intricate theories and abstruse argumentsa quality which is the more appreciated, the more we realize the genius with which almost every word in the poem is chosen to do precisely its own work and no more. But surely a didactic poem, more than any other, must not be judged piecemeal in this way by isolated phrases or even continuous passages of poetic imagination. Its claim to rank as true poetry will rest rather on the spirit of the whole-the depth of intention underlying the work and giving life to the parts. And this is the supreme claim of the De Rerum Natura; there may be portions 1 ad Q. h. ri, 11. t i.9OO. Ii. 353 fl. i493 ii. 317lf. ii375 Introduction of it, which judged separately by superficial students would seem to fall beneath the dignity of poetry, but it is knit into a whole and vivified through all its parts by the fearless desire for truth, the consciousnessof a great purpose, and a deep reverence for nature-felt almost as a personal presence-which has caused this bitter opponent of religion to be universally recognized u one of the most truly religious of the world's poets. SHORT ANALYSIS OF THE POEM Book 1 deal. with the ultimate constitution of the universe, which consists of infinite atoms moving in infinite .pace. Introducuon r Invocation to Venus and appeal to Memmius; 1-145. A. General principles; 146-482.. (a) The existence of first-bodies', or fundamental matter in the form of particles; 146-32.8. (b) The existence of void, or empty space; 32.9-417, (c) Everything else is either property or accident of these two; 418-82.. 8. 'The' firstbodies' are atoms: solid, eternal and indi visible particles; 483-634- C. Refutation of rival tbeories; 635-92.0. (a) Heraclitus j 635-704- (b) Empedocles j 705-82.9- (c) Anaxagoras; 83:>-92.0. D. 'The universe is infintte; 911-1117. Book II deals with the motion and forms of the atoms, and their combination in things. Introduction: The blessings of philosophy j 1-61. d. 'The motion of tb atoms; 62.-332.. ~ a) The incessant movement of the atoms j 80-141. b) The velocity of their motion; 142.-164- c) Universal downward motion due to weight j 184- 21~ (d) The swerve of the atoms j 216-293. (e) The permanence of matter and motion; 294-332. B. 'The forms of tb atoms and tbeir eOects in combinauon ] 333-729. (a) The variety of atomic forms and their effects 011 sensation j 333-477. ~ b) This variety not infinite j 478-PI. c) Atoms of any given form infinite; 52.2.-580. d) Variety of ccmbinaticns I differences withir species j 581-729- Short, Analysis of the Poem 2.r c. T be atoms ar witbout s6condary gualiti6s; 730-990. (a) Colour; n0-8.p. ~ b) Heat, Sound, Taste, Smell j 84:-64- c) Sensation; 865-99' d) Summary; 991-1021 D. T b6infiniu worlds and tbeirformation and destructio ; 1023-1174- Book III deals with the soul, its nature, and its fate. Introduction: Praise of Epicurus and effect of the fear of punishment after death; 1-93. A. Natur and formation of tbe Soul; 94-416. (a) Distinction between mind and 10uI, or vital principle; 94-160. (b) Their corporeal nature and composition; 161-257. (c) Their relation to one another and to the body; 258-416 B. Proofs of tbe Moltality of tb Soul; 417-829' (This section cannot be satisfactorily subdivided, but may roughly be classified as follows:) (a) Proofs from the structure of the 10uI; 425-58. (b) Proofs from disease and its cure; 459-547. (c) Proofs from connexion of soul and body; 548-623. (d) Proofs from absurdity of separate existence of , soul ; 624-829. (9 'Ih6 folly of tb fear of d6atb; 830-10 Book IV deals mainly with the psychology of sensation and thought, and also with certain biological functions. Introducuon t Lucretius', Mission; 1-25. A. Existence and nature of the idols'; 26-216. (a) Their existence j 26-109. (b) Their fineness of texture j 110-42. (e) Swiftness of their formation j 143-75. (d) Rapidity of their motion j 176-216. B. Sensation and Tbougbt ] 217-822. (a) Sight and phenomena connected with it; 1I7-378. (b) False inferences of the mind and infallibility of the seneesj 379-51I ~ c) Hearing; 522-614- d) Taste; 615-72- e) Smell j 673-71I. (f) Thought, i,eo mental images, both in deep and waking life; 722-822. C. Som functions of ,b, Body; 823-157. (a) Refutation of teleological view j 823-~7. 26 Short .Allalysis of the Poem ~ b) Food; 858-76. c) Walking: the act of will; 877-906. J) Sleep and dreams; 907-1036. (e) Love; 1037-57. D. Attack on the passion of Love; 1058-u87. Book V deals with our world and its formation, astroaomy, the beginnings of life and civilization. Introduction: Praise of Epicurus; 1-54- Argument of the book; 55-109; attack on the theological and teleological view; 110-234- A. The world had a beginning and if mortal; 235-415. B. Formation of the world; 416-508, 534-64- C. Astronomy; 509-33, 564-770. (aJ Motions of heavenly bodies; 509-33. (b Size of sun, moon and stars; 564-613. (c Cause of orbits of heavenly bodies; 614-49' (J) Causes of night and day, and their variations f 650-704- (e) Cause of the moon's light; 705-50. (/) Cause of eclipses; 751-70. D. The youth of the world; 772-1010. (a) Origin of vegetable and animal life ; 772-924- (b) Origin of human life and primitive man; 925-1010. E. The btginnings of civilization; 1011-1457. Book VI explains from the atomic point of view a variety or occurrences, partly meteorological phenomena, partly terrestrial curiosities. Introduction: Praise of Epicurus: the gods; 1-95. A. Celestial phenomena; 96-534. ~ a) Thunder, lightning and thunderbolts; 96-42:z. b) Waterspouts; 423-50. c) Clouds and Rain; 451-534- B. T errestrial phenomena; 535-1137. (a) Earthquakes; 535-607. (b) Constant size of the sea; 608-38. (~ Volcanoes; 639-711. ( The Nile; 712-37. ~ Pestilential lakes, &0.; 738-847. Curious fountains; 848--go5. (g The Magnet; 906-1089. (h Pestilences; logO-II 37' C. The Plaru at Athens; 1138-u86. LUCRETIUS ON THE NATURE OF THINGS BOOK I MOTHER n of Aeneas's sons, joy of men and gods,Venus Introducthe life-giver, who beneath the gliding stars of heaven 1'::~atioll fillest with life the sea that carries the ships and the land to Venus, that bears the crops; for thanks to thee every tribe of ~:atiye living things is conceived, and comes forth to look upon power of the light of the sun. Thou, goddess, thou dost turn to Nature. flight the winds and the clouds of heaven, thou at thy coming; for thee earth, the quaint artificer, puts forth her sweet-scented flowers; for thee the levels of ocean smile, and the sky, its anger past, gleams with spreading light. For when once the face of the spring day is revealed and the teeming breeze of the west wind is loosed from prison and blows strong, first the birds in high heaven herald thee, goddess, and thine approach, their hearts thrilled with thy might. Then the tame beasts grow wild and bound over the fat pastures, and swim the racing rivers; so surely enchained by thy charm each follows thee in hot desire whither thou goest before to lead him on. Yea, through seas and mountains and tearing rivers and the leafy haunts of birds and verdant plains thou dost strike fond love into the hearts of all, and makest them in hot desire to renew the stock of their races, each after his own kind. And since thou alone art pilot to the nature of things, and nothing without thine aid comes forth into the bright coasts of light, nor waxes glad nor lovdf. I long that thou .h~uldest be my Appeal to Memmius. BODle 1, II. 24-18 helper in writing these verses, which I essay to trace on the nature of things for the son of the Memmii, my friend, whom thou, goddess, through all hislife hast willed to be bright with every grace beyond his fellows. Therefore the more, goddess, grant a lasting loveliness to my words. Bring it to pass that meantime the wild works of warfare may be lulled to sleep over all seas and lands. For thou only canst bless mortal men with quiet peace, since 'tis Mavors, the lord of hosts, who guides the wild works of war, and he upon thy lap oft flings himself back, conquered by the eternal wound of love j and then pillowing his shapely neck upon thee and looking up he feeds with love his greedy eyes, gazing wistfully towards thee, while, as he lies back, his breath hangs upon thy lips. Do thou, goddess, as he leans resting on thy sacred limbs, bend to embrace him and pour forth sweet petition from thy lips, seeking, great lady, gentle peace for the Romans. For neither can we in our country's time of trouble n set to our task with mind undistressed, nor amid such doings can Memmius's noble son n fail the fortunes of the state. 1 for the rest, do thou (Memmius), lend empty ears and a keen mind, severed from cares, to true philosophy, lest, before they are understood, you should leave aside in disdain my gifts set forth for you with unflagging zeal. For of the most high law of the heaven and the gods I will set out to tell you, and I will reveal the first-beginnings of things, from which nature creates all things, and increases and fosters them, and into which nature too dis~olvesthem again at their perishing: these in rendering 1 Some lines are lost here, in which he passed from addressing Venus to Memmius. Book I, lI. 18-89 29 our account it is our wont to call matter or the creative bodies of things, and to name them the seeds of things, and again to term them the first-bodies, since from them first all things have their being. When the life of man lay foul to see and grovelling Epieurus upon the earth, crushed by the weight of religion, which RR"d\, , e Iglshowed her face from the realms of heaven, lowering upon mortals with dreadful mien, 'twas a man of Greece n who dared first to raise his mortal eyes to meet her, and first to stand forth to meet her: him neither the stories of the gods nor thunderbolts checked, nor the sky with its revengeful roar, but all the more spurred the eager daring of his mind to yearn to be the first to burst through the close-set bolts upon the doors of nature. And so it was that the lively force of his mind won its way, and he passed on far beyond the fiery walls of the world, and in mind and spirit traversed the boundless whole; whence in victory he brings us tidings what can come to be and what cannot, yea and in what way each thing has its power limited, and its deepset boundary-stone. And so religion in revenge is cast beneath men's feet and trampled, and victory raises us to heaven. Herein I have one fear, lest perchance you think that The you are starting on the principles of some unholy reason- IR'mpliie~y of e gIOD. ing, and setting foot upon the path of sin. Nay, but on the other hand, again and again our foe, religion, has given birth to deeds sinful and unholy. Even as at Sacrifice of Aulis n the chosen chieftains of the Danai, the first of aUlphigenia. the host, foully stained with the blood of Iphianassa the altar of the Virgin of the Cross-Roads.n For as soon as the band braided about her virgin locks streamed from her either cheek in equal lengths, as loon as she law her sorrowing sire stand at the altar'. aide, and near him the attendants hiding their knives, and her countrymen shedding tears at the sight of her, tongue-tied with terror, sinking on her knees she fell to earth. Nor could it avail the lucklessmaid at such a time that she first had given the name of father to the Icing. For seized by men'. hands, all trembling was she led to the altars, not that, when the ancient rite of sacrifice was fulfilled, she might be escorted by the clear cry of Hymen', but in the very moment of marriage, a pure victim she might foully fall. sorrowing beneath a father's slaughtering stroke, that a happy and hallowed starting might be granted to the fleet. Such. evil deeds could religion prompt. The fear of You yourself sometime vanquished by the fearsome death and threats of the seer's savings, will seek to desert from us. its cure. r : Nay indeed, how many a dream may they even now conjure up before you, which might avail to overthrow your schemes of life, and confound in fear all your fortunes. And justly so: for if men could see that there is a fixed limit to their sorrows, then with some reason they might have the strength to stand against the scruples of religion. and the threats of seers. As it is there is no means. no power to withstand, since everlasting is the The nature punishment they must fear in death. For they know not of the soul, what is the nature of the soul, whether it is born or else finds its way into them at their birth, and again whether it is torn apart by death and perishes with us, or goes to aee the shades of Orcus and his waste pools, or by the gods' will implants itself in other breasts, as our own Ennius n sang, who first bore down from pleasant Helicon the wreath of deathless leaves, to win bright fame among Book J, /I. "9-1$0 the tribes of Italian peoples. And yet despite this. Ennius sets forth in the discourse of his immortal verse that there is besides a realm of Acheron. where neither our souls nor bodies endure. but as it were images pale in wondrous wise; and thence he tells that the form of Homer. ever green and fresh. rose to him. and began to shed salt tears, and in converse to reveal the nature of things. Therefore we must both give good account of Problems the things on high, in what way the courses of sun and to.bh,edealt Wit moon come to be, and by what force all things are governed on earth, and also before all else we must see by keen reasoning, whence comes the soul and the nature of the mind, and what thing it is that meets us and affrights our minds in waking life, when we are touched with disease, or again when buried in sleep, so that we seem to see and hear hard by us those who have met death, and whose bones are held in the embrace of earth. Nor doesit pass unnoticed of my mind that it is a hard Lucretius' task in Latin verses to set clearly in the light the dark difficulty. discoveries of the Greeks, above all when many things must be treated in new words, because of the poverty of our tongue and the newness of the themes; yet your merit and the pleasure of your sweet friendship, for which I hope, urge me to bear the burden of any toil, and lead me on to watch through the calm nights, searching by what words, yea and in what measures, I may avail to spread before your mind a bright light, whereby you may see to the heart of hidden things. This terror then, this darkness of the mind, must needs A. General be scattered not by the rays of the sun and the gleaming ~~nc~es. shafts of day. but by the outer view and the inner law !awe: of nature; whose first rule shall take its start for us from nothing i. Book I, lI. 110-179 made of this, that nothing is ever begotten of nothing D by nothing. divine will. Fear forsooth so constrains all mortal men, because they behold many things come to pass on earth and in the sky, the cause of whose working they can by no means see, and think that a divine power brings them about. Therefore, when we have seen that nothing can be created out of nothing, then more rightly after that shall we discern that for which we search, both whence each thing can be created, and in what way all things come to be without the aid of gods. For if things came to being from nothing, every kind might be born from all things, nought would need a seed. First men might arise from the sea, and from the land the race of scaly creatures, and birds burst forth from the sky; cattle and other herds, and all the tribe of wild beasts, with no fixed law of birth, would haunt tilth and desert. Nor would the same fruits stay constant to the trees, but all would change: all trees might avail to bear For I. they all fruits. Why, were there not bodies to bring each habve fixed thing to birth, how could things have a fixed unchanging su stance, mother? But as it is, since all things are produced from fixed seeds, each thing is born and comes forth into the coasts of light, out of that which has in it the substance and first-bodies of each; and 'tis for this cause that all things cannot be begotten of all, because in fixed things there dwells a power set apart. Or again, why do we see the roses in spring, and the corn in summer's heat, and the vines bursting out when autumn summons them, if it be not that when, in their own time, the fixed seeds of things have flowed together, then is disclosed each thing that comes to birth, while the season is at hand, and the lively earth in safety brings forth the fragile Proof: all things require fixed seeds. a. and fixed seasons 01 birth. Booi I, II. 179-209 33 things into the coasts of lightl But if they .prang from nothing, suddenly would they arise at uncertain intervals and in hostile times of year, since indeed there would be no first-beginnings which might be kept apart from creative union at an ill-starred season. Nay more, there 3. a~d would be no need for lapse of time for the increase of fi~~~re things upon the meeting of the seed, if they could grow periods fOI from nothing. For little children would grow suddenly increase, to youths, and at once trees would come forth, leaping from the earth. But of this it is well seen that nothing comes to pass, since all things grow slowly, al is natural. from a fixed seed, and as they grow preserve their kind: 10 that you can know that each thing grows great, and is fostered out of its own substance. There is this too, that ~. and without fixed rain-showers in the year the earth could :::~ilh. not put forth its gladdening produce, nor again held apart rnent j from food could the nature of living things renew its kind or preserve its life; 10 that rather you may think that many bodies are common to many things, as we see letters are to words, than that without first-beginnings anything can come to being. Once more, why could not nature S. they d I h hei f th 'h d havetooa pro uce men so arge t at on t elf eet ey mIg t wa e fixed limit through the waters of ocean or rend asunder mighty of growth; mountains with their hands, or live to overpass many generations of living men, if it be not because fixed substance has been appointed for the begetting of things. from which it is ordained what can ariseI Therefore, we must confess that nothing can be brought to being out of nothing, inasmuch al it needs a seed for things, from which each may be produced and brought forth into the gentle breezes of the air. Lastly, inasmuch as we see U60U C 34 Boole I, /I. 208-237 6. and culture makeJ the soil more fertile. that tilled grounds are better than the untilled, and when worked by hands yield better produce, we must know that there are in the earth first-beginnings of things, which we call forth to birth by turning the teeming sods with the ploughshare and drilling the soil of the earth. But if there were none such, you would see all things without toil of ours of their own will come to be far better. The second Then follows this, that nature brew up each thing :=h~ngis again into its own first-bodies, nor does she destroy resolved ought into nothing, For if anything were mortal in ~~~hing. all its parts, each thing would on a sudden be snatched Otherwue from our eyes, and pass away. For there would be no :bi:lls need of any force, such as might cause disunion in its 'Woufd be parts and unloose its fastenings. But as it is, because all dtestroy~d things are put together of everlasting seeds, until some a once, force has met them to batter things asunder with ita blow, or to make its way inward through the empty voids and break things up, nature suffers not the destruction of 3. nor anything to be seen. Moreover, if time utterly destroys coulldd thehe whatsoever through age it takes from sight, and devours wor reo plealshed ] all its substance, how is it that Venus brings back the race of living things after their kind into the light of life, or when she has, how does earth, the quaint artificer, nurse and increase them, furnishing food for them after their kind? how is it that its native springs and the rivers from without, coming from afar, keep the sea full? how is it that the sky feeds the stan? For infinite time and the days that are gone by must needs have devoured all things that are of mortal body. But if in all that while, in the agesthat are gone by, those things have existed, of which this sum of things consists and is replenished, assuredly they are blessed with an immortal nature; all things Book 1, 1/. 237-266 cannot then be turned to nought. And again, the same 3. the force and cause would destroy all things alike, unless an=~ force eternal substance held them together, part with part destroy aU interwoven closely or loosely by ita fastenings. For in thl,ikng~ a I C I truth a touch would be cause enough of death, seeing that none of these things would be of everlasting body, whose texture any kind of force would be bound to break asunder. But as it is. because the fastenings of the firstelements are variously put together. and their substance is everlasting. things endure with body unharmed. until there meets them a force proved strong enough to overcome the texture of each. No single thing then passel back to nothing. but all by dissolution pass back into the first-bodies of matter. Lastly. the rains pass away. when 04. at it is, the sl.... our father. has cast them headlong into the lap the 10h"sof Al one t log of earth, our mother; but the bright crop. spring up, means the and the branches grow green upon the trees, the trees Increaseh of anot cor. too grow and are laden with fruit; by them next our race and the race of beasts is nourished. through them we lee glad towns alive with children, and leafy woods on every side ring with the young birds' cry; through them the cattle wearied with fatness lay their limbs to rest over the glad pastures. and the white milky stream trickles from their swollen udders; through them a new brood with tottering legs sports wanton among the soft grass, their baby hearts thrilling with the pure milk. Not utterly then perish all things that are seen. since nature renew. one thing from out another. nor suffers anything to be begotten, unless she be requited by another'. death. Come now, since I have taught you that things cannot The be created of nought nor likewisewhen begotten be ca1ledexistence of Inyisible panicles il lupponed by other Invilible bodiel. I. Wind. Book I, II. 266-29t back to nothing, lest by any chance you should begin nevertheless to distrust my words, because the fintbeginnings of things cannot be descried with the eyes, 'let me tell you besides of other bodies, which you mlUt needs confess yourself are among things and yet cannot be seen, First of all the might of the awakened wind lashes the ocean and o'erwhelms vast ships and scatters the clouds, and anon scouring the plains with tearing hurricane it strews them with great trees, and harries the mountain-tops with blasts that rend the woods: with such fierce whistling the wind rages and ravens with angry roar. There are therefore, we may be sure, unseen bodies of wind, which sweep sea and land, yea, and the clouds of heaven, and tear and harry them with sudden hurricane; they stream on and spread havoc in no other way than when the loft nature of water is borne on in a flood o'erflowing in a moment, swollen by a great rush of water dashing down from the high mountains after bounteous rains and hurling together broken branches from the woods, and whole trees too; nor can the strong bridges bear up against the sudden force of the advancing flood. In such wise, turbid with much rain, the river rushes with might and main against the piles: roaring aloud it spreads ruin, and rolls 1and dashes beneath ita waves huge rocks and all that ban its flood. Thus then the blasts of wind too must needs be borne on; and when like some strong stream they have swooped towards any side, they push things and dash them on with constant assault; sometimes in eddying whirl they seize them up and bear them awayin swiftly swirling hurricane. Wherefore again and again there are unseen bodies of wind. Read n.it'l'" d'l'"d'lwid. Book t, II. 296"-326 37 inasmuch as in their deeds and ways they are found to rival mighty streams, whose body all may lee. Then again we smell the manifold scents of things, and yet we J. Sccnt. do not ever descry them coming to the nostrils, nor do we behold warm heat, nor can we grasp cold with the 3. Heat. . . d . all h thi ,.. Cold. eyes, nor IS It ours to escry vcices ; yet t ese ngs 5. Sound. must needs consist of bodily nature, inasmuch as they can make impact on our senses. For, if it be not body, nothing can touch and be touched. Once more, gar- 6.Moilture. ments hung up upon the shore, where the waves break, grow damp, and again spread in the sun they dry. Yet never has it been seen in what way the moisture of the water has sunk into them, nor again in what way it has fled before the heat. Therefore the moisture is dispersed into tiny particles, which the eyes can in no way lee. Nay more, as the sun's year rolls round again and 7. The again, the ring on the finger becomes thin beneath by cDvidence or ee.y. wearing, the fall of dripping water hollows the stone, the bent iron ploughshare secretly grows smaller in the fields, and we lee the paved stone streets worn away by the feet of the multitude; again, by the city-gates the brazen statues reveal that their right hands are wearing thin through the touch of those who greet them ever and again as they pass upon their way. All these things then we see grow less, as they are rubbed away: yet what particles leave them at each moment, the envious nature of our sight hal shut UJ out from seeing. Lastly, what- 8 nd ever time and nature adds little by little to things, Growth. impelling them to grow in due proportion, the Itraining light of the eye can never behold, nor again wherever things grow old through time and decay. Nor where roch overhang the lea, devoured by the thin lalt apray. Book 1, II. 127-319 could you see what they lose at each moment. 'Tia then by bodies unseen that nature works her will. The Void. And yet all things are not held close pressed on every aide by the nature of body; for there is void in things.n To have learnt this will be of profit to you in dealing with many things; it willaave you from wandering in doubt and always questioning about the sum of things, and distrusting my words. There is then a void, mere space I, Without untouchable and empty. For if there were not, by no ~IO:!::ioll means could things move; for that which is the office sible. of body, to offend and hinder, would at every moment be present to all things; nothing, therefore, could advance, since nothing could give the example of yielding place. But as it is, through seas and lands and the high tracts of heaven, we descry many things by many means moving in diverse ways before our eyes, which, if there were not void, would not so much be robbed and baulked of restless motion, but rather could in no way have been born at all, since matter would on every side be in close-packed I. Void stillness. Again, however solid things may be thought to ::o;;~ forbe, yet from this you can disc~rn,tha t t,hey are of rare ..iou.llmo( body. In rocky caverns the liquid moisture of water leel,lId'ing trickle. through, and all weepswith copiousdripping: food 10' I, spreads itself this way and that into the body of every living thing: trees grow and thrust forth their fruit in due season, because the food is dispersed into every part of them from the lowest roots through the Items and all the branches. Noises creep through walls and fiy through the shut places in the house, ltiffening cold works its way to the bones: but were there no empty apaces, along which each of these bodies might pass, you 3. and would not lee this come to pass by .any means. Again, differences why do we lee one thing surpass another in weight, when 39 its size is no whit bigger? For if there is as much body in weight in in a bale of wool as in lead, it is natural it should weigh :::~~:!. as much, since 'tis the office of body to press all things downwards, but on the other hand the nature of void remains without weight. So because it is just as big, yet seems lighter, it tells us, we may be sure, that it has more void; but on the other hand the heavier thing avoWi that there is more body in it and that it contains far less empty space within. Therefore, we may be sure, that which we are seeking with keen reasoning, does exist mingled in things-that which we call void. Herein lest that which some vainly imagine D should The (al.., avail to lead you astray from the truth, I am constrained ::i~o( to forestall it. They say that the waters give place to without the scaly creatures as they press forward and open up Toid. a liquid path, because the fishes leave places behind, to which the waters may flow together as they yield: and that even so other things too can move among themselves and change place, albeit the whole is solid. In very truth this is all believed on false reasoning. For whither, I. How can I ask, will the scaly creatures be able to move forward, th.i"h8'moyo Wit out unless the waters have left an empty space? again, whither room to go will the waters be able to give place, when the fishes cannot to' go forward? either then we must deny motion to every body, or we must say that void is mixed with things, from which each thing can receive the first start of movement. Lastly, if two broad bodies leap asunder quickly from 2. There I. , elv i .L b th " II a momen- " meenng, sur y It must neeas e at air seizes upon a tar7 Toid the void, which comes to be between the bodies. Still, between h id th h ith hi h . h two reo owever rapl e rus WI welt streams toget er bounding as its currents hasten round, yet in one instant the whole bodies. empty space cannot be filled: for it must needs be that Book 1, 1/. 389-420 it fillJ each place al it comes, and then at last all the False idea of room is taken up. But if by chance anyone thinb D that ~~:;:;Dwh~n bodies have leapt apart, then this comes to be of air : because the air condenses, he goes astray; for in that case that becomes empty which was not 10 before, and again that is filled which was empty before, nor can air condense in such a way, nor, if indeed it could, could it, I trow, without void draw into itself and gather into one all its parts. The Wherefore, however long you liang back with much gk,owt1hdof objection, you must needs confess at last that there is Dowe ge. roid in things. And besides by telling you many an instance, I can heap up proof for my words. But these light footprints are enough for a keen mind: by them you may detect the rest for yourself. For as dogs ranging over mountains often find by scent the lain of wild beasts shrouded under leafage, when once they are set on sure traces of their track, 10 for yourself you will be able in such themes as this to see one thing after another, to win your way to all the secret places and draw out the truth thence. But if you are slack or ahrink a httle from my theme, this I can promise you, Memmius, on my own word: 10 surely will my sweet tongue pour forth to you bounteous draughts from the deep well-springs out of the treasure. of my heart, that I fear lest sluggish age creep over our limbs and loosen within us the fastenings of life, before that the whole store of proofs on one single theme be launched in my verses into your ears. But now, to weave again at the web, which is the task of my discourse, all nature then, as it is of itself, i. built of these two things: for there are bodies and the which I. impollible without yoid. The two natures, matter and ,"oid. Book I, II. 420-41" void, in which they are placed and
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