On the Virtues

Philo of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the Greek

Having first spoken of justice and the matters that pertain most urgently to it, I now move on to the next virtue, courage — not the raving battle-madness that most people take for courage, with anger as its counselor, but the true knowledge of it.

Some men, puffed up with rashness and aided by bodily strength, stationed in full armor for war, have cut down countless thousands of their opponents in the flower of youth, winning a name unfitting to them though sounding fair — “valor” — and have been judged especially glorious in victory by those who assess such things, though by nature and by practice they have become savage and beastlike, thirsting for human blood.

But there are others who, though confined to their houses, their bodies wasted away by long illness or by the toil of old age, are yet healthy and youthful in the better part of the soul, full of high purpose and brimming with the boldest courage; though they only dream of ever touching weapons of defense, by the most public-spirited proposals of good counsel they have often set upright again, both the private affairs of individuals and the common affairs of their homelands when these had fallen, applying unyielding and unbending reasoning about what is truly advantageous.

These, then, are the ones who labor at true courage, being practitioners of wisdom; but those others live out its false namesake through ignorance, a disease hard to cure, which one might properly call rashness — just as, they say, a counterfeit coin bears a stamp that mimics the true image.

Not a few other things in human life are acknowledged to be hard to bear — poverty, disrepute, disability, and the many forms that disease takes. Faced with these, the shallow-minded grow soft, unable even to be roused out of their timidity; but those who are full of good sense and nobility strip for the contest with endurance and vigorous resistance, holding the threats and menacing gestures of such troubles to be a great laughing-matter and object of mockery. Against poverty they set wealth in array — not the blind wealth, but the sharp-sighted kind, whose treasures and possessions the soul by nature stores up.

For poverty has thrown down countless numbers, who fell like exhausted athletes, unmanned and made soft; but before the judgment seat of truth, not a single person is truly poor who has as provider the indestructible wealth of nature: air, the first and most necessary and continuous nourishment, breathed in without interruption by day and by night; then also abundant springs and the ever-flowing streams not only of winter torrents but of rivers fed from their own sources, for use in drinking; then, for food, the yield of every kind of fruit and the many species of trees that forever bear their yearly harvest. Of these no one is in need, but everywhere all people enjoy a great abundance.

But if some, holding the wealth of nature as nothing, pursue instead the wealth of empty opinion, leaning on a blind guide in place of one who sees, and following a maimed leader on their

journey, they are bound of necessity to fall. Now the wealth that serves as bodyguard to the body, being nature's invention and gift, has already been spoken of; but the more august wealth, which belongs not to everyone but only to men who are truly reverent and touched by the divine, must now be disclosed. This wealth is supplied by wisdom, through logical, ethical, and physical doctrines and theorems, from which the virtues spring — virtues that cut away the soul's extravagance, engendering instead a love of contentment and of wanting little, in accordance with the soul's likeness to God.

For God is in need of nothing, wanting for nothing, but is himself utterly self-sufficient; whereas the worthless man is in need of much, always thirsting after what he lacks for the sake of an insatiable and unquenchable desire, which he fans and kindles like fire, stretching it over everything both small and great. But the man of worth needs little, standing on the border between immortal and mortal nature: having neediness because of his mortal body, but not having much need because of a soul that reaches after immortality.

In this way they set wealth against poverty; against disrepute they set good repute. For praise, having its foundation in nobility of character and flowing from it as from an ever-running spring, does not consort with the mob of unexamined men who are accustomed to expose the soul's irregularities in unsteady speech — men who sometimes, cheapening praise for shameful gain, do not blush to speak against those who are chosen for excellence. But the number of such praiseworthy people is small; for virtue is not abundant among mortal kind.

Against the maiming of the senses, too — living alongside which countless people have died before their time, because they could find no remedy to ward off the harm — practical wisdom stands opposed, the ruling power within us, which gives eyes to the understanding; and this understanding, they say, altogether and in every way surpasses the sharp-sightedness of the body's eyes.

For bodily eyes gaze only upon the surfaces of visible things, and need light from outside as well; but the understanding penetrates even into the depths of bodies, examining and surveying each of their parts thoroughly through and through, and it grasps also the natures of incorporeal things, which sense-perception is powerless to observe. It comprehends, one might say, nearly the whole range of sharp-sightedness that belongs to the eye, without needing any borrowed light, being itself a star and, in a sense, an image and likeness of the heavenly bodies.

… they cause harm. Health of soul is the good blending of the powers of spirit, desire, and reason, when the rational power is dominant and, like a charioteer, holds the reins over each of the other two as if they were unruly horses.

The name proper to this health is self-control, which brings about the safety of the ruling faculty within us; for when that faculty is often in danger of being submerged and swept under by the flood of the passions, self-control does not allow it to go under, but draws it up and lifts it aloft, giving it life and breath and, in a manner of speaking, making it immortal.

All that has been said amounts to instructions and teachings inscribed in many places throughout the legislation, persuading the compliant more gently and admonishing the more unruly more forcefully, concerning matters of the body and of external things — teaching them to hold as their one end living according to virtue, while also striving zealously after all the other things that lead toward it.

And had I not already gone through each of these points earlier, in the discussions on freedom from vanity, I would attempt at present to draw the matter out at greater length, weaving and stringing together what seem to lie scattered in different places.

But since I have already spoken of it, I do not think it right to repeat myself now that the occasion for it has passed. Those, however, who do not shrink from the effort but earnestly apply themselves to reading the books that come before this one, ought to understand that nearly everything said there about freedom from vanity concerns courage as well, since it takes a soul that is vigorous, noble, and thoroughly braced with sinew to look down on everything that vanity habitually invests with false dignity, to the ruin of a life lived toward truth.

So great is the law's earnestness and ambition to train and brace the soul for courage that it even legislated what sort of clothing one ought to wear, forbidding a man in the strongest terms to put on a woman's garment, so that not even a trace or shadow of femininity might attach itself, to the harm of the male line. For it wills, ever following nature, to legislate that things proper and akin to one another should be so all the way down to the smallest and, because of their triviality, seemingly most insignificant details.

For since it saw the bodily forms of man and woman stamped, as it were, in outline, unlike one another, and since a different way of life had been allotted to each of the two kinds — to the one the household, to the other public affairs — and likewise in all other matters that were not themselves works of nature but were, in keeping with nature, discoveries of sound judgment, it judged it advantageous to legislate; and these were matters of diet, of dress, and anything of similar kind.

For it held that the man who is truly a man should show his manliness even in these things, and especially in matters of dress, which he wears continually by day and by night, and which ought therefore to bear no reminder of unmanliness.

In just the same way, having trained the woman too in the adornments that befit her, it forbade her to put on a man's clothing, guarding from a distance equally against effeminate men and mannish women; for it knew that, just as in buildings, once a single stone is removed the rest no longer stand as they did.

Furthermore, since human affairs unfold within two occasions, peace and war, the virtues can be seen tested in both. Of the others we have spoken before, and will speak again should the need arise; but for now courage must be examined in earnest, since its works in peacetime the legislation has celebrated in many places, ever aiming at the right occasion — matters we have already recalled in their proper places — while its works in war we shall now take as our starting point, after first stating this.

Whenever it draws up the roll of soldiers, it does not think it right to summon all the young men, but excuses some, adding reasonable grounds for exemption from military service: for instance, those who are cowering and fearful, who are likely to be overcome by an innate softness and to instill fear in their fellow soldiers.

For a neighbor's evil has a way of rubbing off well onto the person nearby, especially in war, when reasoning is thrown into confusion by anguish and is unable to grasp the true nature of events with precision; for at such a time people are accustomed to call cowardice caution, fearfulness foresight, and unmanliness safety, clothing the most shameful acts in seemly and dignified names.

So then, in order that one's own side not be harmed by the unmanliness of those who go to war, and that the enemy's side not gain the advantage by scornfully overpowering the ignoble, knowing that an idle crowd is not helpful but an obstacle to success, the law drove out the timid and those who collapse into cowardice — just as, I think, no general imposes on the physically sick the necessity of fighting, granting exemption instead for their weakness.

Cowardice too is a kind of disease, and a heavier one than those of the body, since it destroys the powers of the soul. For bodily diseases happen to have only a brief period at their height, but cowardice is an evil that grows up with a person, attached—no less, indeed more—than the united parts of the body, from earliest age to extreme old age, unless God should happen to heal it; for all things are possible to God.

Moreover, he does not call up all the boldest men either, even if they are extremely robust in both body and soul and are willing to fight in the front line and face danger first; rather, having praised their resolve for displaying a public-spirited, eager, and undaunted character, he investigates whether they are bound by certain necessary causes, whose pull is powerful.

"For if someone," he says, "has recently built a house and has not yet had time to move into it, or has planted a young vineyard, setting the cuttings into the ground himself, and has not yet had the season of its fruit, or has become betrothed to a virgin and has not yet married her, let him be excused from all military service"—showing both humanity and strategic sense together,

in granting this exemption for two reasons. One, since the outcome of wars is uncertain, so that others should not effortlessly seize what these men have labored for; for it seemed a hard thing that a man should not be able to enjoy his own property, but that one man should build and another dwell in the house, one man plant and another who did not plant gather the fruit, one man court a woman and another who did not court her marry her—since it is not right to render empty the hopes of those who expect good things in life;

the other reason was that men serving with their bodies should not lag behind in their souls; for their minds are necessarily strained toward the longing for the enjoyment of what has drawn them away. Just as the hungry or thirsty, when food or drink comes into view somewhere, chase after it and run to it without turning back, eager to partake of it, so those who have labored for a lawful wife or the acquisition of a house or a plot of land, and who suppose in hope that they have all but reached the moment of enjoying each of these, are thrown into agitation when that enjoyment is taken from them, so that, though present in body, they are not present in the better part, the soul,

through which right action comes about—or rather, its opposite. He therefore does not think that these men, and others like them, should be enrolled on the military roll, but only those in whom no pre-existing passion lurks and undermines them, so that with free and unconstrained impulses they may throw themselves against dangers without excuse. For just as a full suit of armor is of no use to a body that is weak or maimed, since it will be unable to bear it and will cast it off, in the same way some passion of a suffering soul, out of tune with present circumstances, will ruin even a robust body.

Looking to these considerations, he judges not only the captains and generals and the other commanders of the army, but each of the soldiers as well, testing how each stands with regard to bodily fitness and steadiness of reasoning: examining the body, whether it is whole, whether it is entirely healthy throughout, whether it is well fitted in all its parts and limbs for the postures and movements appropriate to each; and examining the soul, whether it is full of confidence and boldness, whether it is undaunted and full of noble good sense, whether it is ambitious for honor and prefers a death with glory to an inglorious life.

For each of these qualities, taken by itself alone, is—to tell the truth—a power in its own right; but if they should all come together at once, they will display an invincible strength that has no rival by a wide margin, overpowering the enemy without bloodshed.

The sacred books contain the clearest proof of what has been said. There is a very populous nation, the Arabs, whose ancient name was the Midianites. These people were hostile to the Hebrews for no other reason than that the Hebrews had been allotted as their portion the worship and honor of the highest and most ancient Cause, as its maker and father of all things; and the Midianites contrived every device and made every attempt to turn them away from the honor of the One who truly is, and to transform them from holiness to impiety—for they supposed that in this way they would easily gain the upper hand—since after saying and doing countless things they had grown weary, like men at the point of death who have given up hope of safety, and so they devised some such stratagem as this.

Having summoned the most beautiful of their women, they said to them: "You see how uncountable the multitude of the Hebrews is. But a harder fortification to breach than their multitude is their unanimity and concord; and the cause of that concord is the highest and greatest thing of all, their belief concerning the one God, from which, as from a single spring, they draw a unifying and indissoluble friendship for one another."

"Man is captured by pleasure, and above all by intercourse with a woman. And you are the most outstanding of women; beauty by nature is a thing that draws men on, and youth easily slips into incontinence."

"Do not fear the names of prostitution or adultery as things that will bring disgrace, but set against them the benefits that will come of the deed, through which you will transform a day's ill repute into ageless and unending glory—giving up your bodies only in appearance, as a clever device and stratagem against enemies, while keeping your souls virgin, and so sealing your purity for the future as well."

"And this war will hold the newest kind of glory, being won through women rather than through men. For our own race, we admit, will suffer no defeat in it, since our opponents are superior to us in every respect that bears on battle; but yours will bring victory entirely, and—the greatest good of all—prizes of valor without danger. For without bloodshed, or rather without even raising dust, you will win the day merely by being seen, at the very first appearance."

Hearing this, women who had never even dreamed of a pure life, untasted of proper education, gave their consent, having all along feigned a character of chastity as an act; and adorning themselves with costly clothing and necklaces and all the other things with which a woman is accustomed to be decked out, and making their natural beauty still more attractive through careful grooming—for the contest was no small one: the hunting of young men not easily hunted—they came forward into full view.

Then, drawing near, with courtesan-like glances, a flood of chatter, and wanton postures and movements, they lured the small fraction of the young men whose characters were unballasted and unsteady; and having, through the disgrace of their bodies, hooked the souls of those who came to them, they invited them to unholy sacrifices and unlawful libations offered to gods made by human hands, and so alienated them from the worship of the one God who truly is.

Having accomplished this, they brought the good news to their men; and they would have gone on to draw in others too, those not so very steadfast, had not God, the benefactor and merciful one, taking pity on the suffering, checked those who had lost their senses—there were twenty-four thousand of them—by an immediate punishment, and, when they were in danger of being swept away as if by a torrent, reined them back by admonishing them through fear.

The leader of the nation, pouring into their ears the doctrines concerning piety and thereby steering the souls of his subjects toward them, chose out a thousand men from each tribe, selecting the best, and enrolled them, intending to exact a penalty for the ambush which the Midianites had contrived through their women—men who had hoped to bring down the whole multitude from the height of holiness and to corrupt it, but had been able to corrupt only

those already mentioned. This small number, arrayed against many tens of thousands, employing both skill and boldness together, each man as if an entire host in himself, charged contemptuously into the massed ranks, and, cutting down all in their path, emptied out the tightly packed companies and whatever forces lay in wait to fill the gaps left by the fallen ranks, so that by a single onset they laid low many tens of thousands and left nothing of the youth arrayed against them; and they killed also the women who had joined in the men's unholy designs, while taking captive the young virgins, out of pity for their innocent age.

And having won so great a war, they lost none of their own men; rather, as many and of whatever quality as had gone out to battle returned unwounded and whole—or rather, to tell the truth, with double their former strength; for the joy of victory produced a power no less than what they had had before.

The cause of all this was nothing other than their eagerness to undertake, at the risk of danger, the contest on behalf of piety—a contest in which God himself fights on the front line, an unconquerable ally, suggesting good counsels to their minds and instilling the mightiest strength into their bodies.

Proof of this alliance from God lies both in the fact that many tens of thousands were captured by so few, and in the fact that not one of the enemy escaped, while not one of their own friends was killed, their number and bodily strength remaining undiminished.

That is why in the Exhortations he says: "If you practice justice, holiness, and the other virtues, you will live a life free of war and altogether peaceful, or, if war should arise, you will easily overpower your enemies, since God commands the army invisibly, whose concern it is to save the good with all his might."

"So do not be struck with terror and afraid, whether well-armed infantry and cavalry together attack in many tens of thousands, or whether the enemy, having seized strongholds and fortified positions in advance, hold the ground, or whether they are supplied with unstinting resources—even if you lack every advantage of abundance that they possess: allies, weapons, favorable positions, supplies."

"For those things, like a merchant vessel laden with goods of every kind, a sudden gust of wind has often struck and capsized and destroyed; while for the cheap and meager, like ears of grain already shriveled from drought and lack of rain, God, sprinkling and snowing gently upon them, has supplied saving powers enabling them to be revived and brought to full fruit."

From this it is clear that one must hold fast to justice and holiness; for those with whom the Divine is at peace are supremely blessed, while those against whom it is hostile are utterly wretched. Let so much be said, sufficiently for the present, concerning courage. On Humanity.

Next we must examine philanthropy — humanity's love — the closest kinsman of piety, its sister and, in truth, its twin. The prophet of the laws loved this virtue as, I think, no one else has, for he knew it to be a highway leading straight to holiness; he trained everyone under him and welded them together into a fellowship, setting up his own life like an archetype painting, a fine example.

Now the deeds he performed from earliest youth to old age for the care and protection of every individual and of all people together I have already set out in the two treatises I wrote on the life of Moses. But it is worth recalling one or two things he accomplished at the very end of his life; for they are proofs of that continuous, unbroken nobility of character which he had stamped upon his soul, unconfused, in an impression shaped by a divine seal.

When the appointed term of his mortal life was about to end, and he learned from unmistakable oracles of his departure from this world, he did not imitate other kings or private citizens, whose one concern and prayer is to leave their children as heirs. Although he was the father of two sons, he left the rule to neither of them, overcome by no favor of kinship or affection for his own household. And even if there were grounds for suspicion regarding his sons, he was certainly not at a loss for nephews of high character, who had won the highest priesthood as the prize of virtue.

But perhaps he did not think it right to draw them away from the divine service, or perhaps he reasoned, as is likely, that the same men cannot competently administer both offices, priesthood and kingship, since the one professes the service of God and the other the care of human beings. Or perhaps he did not deem himself worthy to be the judge of so great a matter; for to test who is well fitted by nature for rule is a task belonging almost to divine power alone, for it alone can easily discern a man's character.

The clearest proof of what I have said would be this. He had a friend, almost a companion from his earliest years, named Joshua. Nothing of the sort that usually creates friendship among other people brought about this friendship, but a heavenly, pure, and truly divine love, from which every virtue happens to spring. This man shared his roof and his table with him, except when solitude was required of him as he became inspired and spoke oracles. Joshua rendered every other kind of service too, always outstanding in the eyes of the people — all but

being a deputy governor and administering the affairs of leadership jointly with him. Yet even though he had gained, over a long span of time, an exact proof of Joshua's nobility in both word and deed, and — the most essential thing — his goodwill toward the nation, Moses did not think it right to leave even him as his successor, fearing lest he might hold a false opinion, deeming good a man who was not truly so; for the criteria of human judgment are by nature somewhat dim and unreliable.

For this reason, not trusting his own judgment beforehand, he prays fervently and beseeches God, the overseer of the invisible soul, who alone can perceive the mind with precision, to choose by merit the man most fit for leadership, one who will care for his subjects as a father would. And raising to heaven his hands, pure and, one might say more figuratively, virgin, he says:

‘Let the Lord, God of the spirits and of all flesh, look out a man over the multitude, for the care and oversight, a shepherd who will lead them blamelessly, so that the nation may not become like a scattered flock that has no herdsman.’

And yet who among those who heard this prayer at the time would not have been astounded, and said, ‘What are you saying, master? Do you not have legitimate sons? Do you not have nephews? Leave the rule above all to your sons — for they are by nature the first heirs — and if you reject them, then at least to your nephews.’

‘But if you have judged them too unsuitable as well, preferring the nation to your nearest and dearest kin, still you have a blameless friend who has given proof of perfect virtue to you, the all-wise one. Why then, if the choice is to be made not by lineage but by nobility of character, do you not think him worthy of consideration?’

But he will declare that ‘it is right to make God the judge of all things, and especially of great matters, in which doing well or badly has led countless numbers of people to happiness, or, on the contrary, to misery. And nothing is greater than the office of rule, to which are entrusted the affairs of cities and countries, whatever is at stake in war or in peace. For just as a good voyage requires a pilot's judgment and skill, in the same way, for the good governance of subjects everywhere, there is need of some altogether wise leader.’

‘But wisdom, which is older not only than my own birth but than the birth of the whole world, it is neither right nor possible for anyone else to judge, but only God and those who love it without guile, purely and genuinely.’

‘I learned from my own experience not to judge for the office of rule even one of those who seem fit for it. As for the care and oversight of public affairs, I neither chose it of my own will nor received it after being appointed by any other man, but even when God, through clear oracles and unmistakable pronouncements, plainly declared and commanded me to rule, I drew back, entreating and imploring, looking at the greatness of the task, until, since he commanded repeatedly, I obeyed out of fear.’

‘How then would it not be absurd not to follow the very same footsteps, and, having made use of God as judge when I myself was about to rule, not again to place the appointment of my successor in his hands alone, without human judgment taking any part in it — human judgment, for which what seems likely is closer than what is true? And this all the more since the leadership will not be over some chance nation, but over the most populous of all nations everywhere, one that professes the greatest of professions: supplication to him who truly is, who is the maker and father of all things.’

‘For what accrues to the devotees of the most approved philosophy from philosophy itself, this comes to the Jews through their laws and customs: knowledge of the highest and most ancient cause of all things, having rejected the error concerning gods that come into being. For no created thing is truly God, but only in men's opinion, since it has been deprived of the most essential thing — eternity.’

This, then, is the first and clearest proof of his humanity and faithfulness toward his whole people. But there is another proof, no less than the one just told. For when Joshua, his student and imitator of his admirable character, was judged by merit and by divine criteria to become ruler, Moses did not, as another man might have, grow downcast that his sons or nephews had not been chosen; instead, filled with inexpressible joy,

because the nation was going to have as its guardian a man best in every respect — for he knew that whoever pleases God must of necessity be noble and good — took Joshua by the right hand and led him before the assembled multitude. Showing no apprehension at all about his own death, but instead adding fresh new joys to his old ones, not only in memory of the earlier delights in which he had reveled to the full through every kind of virtue, but also because of his hope of becoming immortal, passing from a perishable life to an imperishable one, with a cheerful countenance, radiant and joyful from the good spirits of his soul, he says:

‘For me, the time has now come to depart from life in the body; but here is the successor to the guardianship over you, chosen by God.’ And he at once recounted to them the oracles that had been given confirming this choice, and they believed them.

And turning to Joshua, he exhorts him to act with manly courage and to be exceedingly strong in giving good counsel, proposing sound judgments and, with unyielding and vigorous reasoning, bringing to completion whatever had been rightly determined. And he said these things perhaps to one who had no need of exhortation, but because he could not contain his affection for his fellow man and his love for his nation, goaded by it in a certain way, he laid bare whatever he thought would be beneficial.

There was also an oracle for him, to encourage his successor and to make him most courageous for the care of the nation, not fearing the weight of the office of rule, so that this might become for future generations a rule and a law for all leaders looking to Moses as their archetypal model, and so that no one would begrudge good counsel to his successors, but rather would train and strengthen their souls with instructions and exhortations.

For the exhortation of a good man has the power to raise up those who have grown discouraged in their thinking, and, lifting them to a height above circumstances and events, to instill and establish in them a noble and undaunted spirit.

Having spoken what was fitting both to his subjects and to the heir of the leadership, he begins to hymn God in song, rendering him the final thanksgiving of his life in the body, in return for the favors — not the ordinary, customary kind, but ever new ones — with which he had been blessed from birth to old age.

And gathering together a divine assembly — the elements of the universe and the most all-embracing parts of the cosmos, earth and heaven, the one the hearth of mortal beings, the other the home of the immortals — he composed his hymns of praise between them, through every form of harmony and concord,

so that both humans and ministering angels might hear it — the former as intimates, for instruction in a like disposition of thanksgiving; the latter as overseers, watching according to their own experience to see whether any part of the song was out of tune, and at the same time doubting whether any man, bound as he was to a perishable body, could in the same way as the sun, the moon, and the all-holy chorus of the other stars, have tuned his soul, like an instrument, to the divine, harmonizing it with heaven and the whole cosmos.

Ranked among the dancers of the upper heaven, the hierophant blended into his thankful hymns to God the genuine feelings of his goodwill toward the nation, among which were reproofs of ancient sins, warnings and correctives suited to the present occasion, and exhortations for the future built on good hopes, which good ends must necessarily follow.

Taking his place among the dancers who circle the heavens, the hierophant blended into his hymns of thanksgiving to God the genuine feelings of his goodwill toward the nation: among these were rebukes for old sins, warnings and correctives suited to the present moment, and exhortations for the future built on good hopes, hopes that must be followed by a happy ending.

When he had completed these dances, woven together as they were with holiness and love of humanity, he began to change from mortal life into immortal existence, and little by little he became aware of the separation of the elements from which he had been compounded, as his body, like an oyster clinging to its shell, was stripped away, while his soul was laid bare and longed for the migration natural to it from this place.

Then, having made ready what was needed for his departure, he did not set out on his journey to that other country before he had, through the summoning of the heads of the tribes, blessed with harmonious prayers all the tribes of the nation, twelve in number; and we must believe that these prayers will be fulfilled, for the one who prayed was beloved of God, and God is the friend of humanity, and those on whose behalf the petitions were made were of noble and well-born stock, ranked in the very highest order, under the generalship of him who is maker and father of all.

The petitions were for the true goods, not only that these might belong to them in their mortal life, but far more that they might belong to them once the soul had been released from the bondage of the flesh. For Moses alone, it seems, from the beginning had conceived of the whole nation as bound to him by a kinship more necessary and far more genuine than kinship of blood,

and had declared it heir of all the good things which human nature can contain: those he himself possessed he gave freely and at once; those he did not yet possess he begged God to supply, knowing that the springs of God's graces flow unceasingly, yet are not opened to all, but only to suppliants; and suppliants are those who love nobility and goodness, to whom it is granted to draw, in their thirst for wisdom, from the most sacred springs.

The proofs, then, of the lawgiver's love of humanity and fellow-feeling, which he displayed both through the good fortune of his own nature and through the guidance of the sacred oracles, have now been shown. We must next speak of the ordinances he laid down for those who came after him, even if not all of them — for that is no easy task — at least those closely related and nearest to his own designs.

For fairness and gentleness are not established by him only in relations among human beings; rather, pouring it out lavishly, he extends it also to the natures of other living creatures and to the varieties of cultivated trees. What he legislated concerning each of these must be told in turn, beginning first with human beings.

He forbids, then, lending at interest to a brother, calling brother not only the one born of the same parents, but anyone who is a fellow-citizen and of the same people, holding it unjust to take interest on money as though it were offspring bred from cattle.

And he urges that this should not make one draw back and become more reluctant to give assistance, but rather, with open hands and open minds, to grant favors above all to those in need, reckoning that a kindness is itself, in a sense, a loan, one that will be repaid at a better time, without compulsion, by the voluntary disposition of the recipient; but if people are unwilling to make a gift outright, then at least to lend most readily and eagerly, expecting to receive back nothing beyond the original sum.

For in this way the poor would not become more destitute by being forced to pay back more than they had received, nor would the lenders be wronged, since they would recover only what they had put forward — and yet not only that; for along with the principal, in place of the interest they had refused to take, they receive in addition the finest and most valuable of human things: gentleness, fellowship, kindness, magnanimity, good repute, good name. What possession can rival these?

The Great King himself will appear utterly destitute when measured against a single virtue; for his wealth is lifeless, buried in treasuries and the recesses of the earth, whereas the wealth of virtue is in the ruling part of the soul. Indeed, even the purest part of his substance lays claim to it — the heaven, and God who begat all things. Further, we must reckon as poverty masquerading as wealth the affluence of money-lenders and usurers, who, though they seem to be kings dripping with gold, have not even in a dream beheld the wealth that truly sees.

There are some who have carried wickedness to such an excess that, having no money, they lend food, expecting to receive back more than they gave. Such men would very quickly turn a request for charity into an occasion for creating famine in the midst of abundance and plenty, deriving profit from the hunger of wretched human beings, all but weighing out their food and drink on a scale, lest the balance tip against them.

To those, then, who are to share in his sacred commonwealth he necessarily commands that they turn away from such ways of gaining, for these are the practices of a soul that is slavish and utterly ignoble in nature, one that has changed into savagery and the character of wild beasts.

Among the ordinances tending toward humanity is also this one which he lays down: to pay a poor man's wages on the very same day, not only because it is just that one who has rendered the service for which he was hired should receive without delay the wages due for his labor, but also because, as some have said, the craftsman or the porter, living from day to day, wearing himself out in his whole body like a beast of burden, has set his hope on his wages; if he receives them at once, he rejoices and is strengthened, and works the next day with double eagerness; but if he does not receive them, besides his great distress, his energies are dissolved by grief and he collapses, so that he is unable to meet the demands of his work day by day.

Again he says: let the creditor not enter the house of the debtor to seize by force some pledge or security for the loan, but let him stand outside at the door and wait, calling gently for it to be brought out. And the debtors, if they have the means, should not hold back, since it is fitting that the one should not use his power to indulge his own arrogance in insulting his debtors, while the others should offer worthy pledges as a reminder that what belongs to another must be returned.

Who indeed would not admire his ordinance concerning reapers and grape-gatherers? For he commands that at harvest time one should not gather up the fallen ears of grain, nor cut every part of the standing crop, but leave some portion of the field uncut, thereby making the wealthy at once magnanimous and generous, by their giving up something of their own rather than grasping at everything and gathering and carrying home to store up as treasure, and at the same time making the poor more cheerful, since, lacking property of their own, he allows them to enter into the fields of their fellow tribesmen and reap what is left as though it were their own.

And again at the season of the vintage he commands the landowners, as they gather in the grapes, neither to collect the fallen berries nor to go over the vineyards a second time. The same ordinance he gives to those who gather olives, acting like the most affectionate and most just of fathers, whose children do not all enjoy the same good fortune, but some live in abundance while others have come down to the depths of poverty; these he pities and calls, out of compassion, to share in the possessions of their brothers, as though what belongs to others were their own — not shamelessly, but for the correction of their want, and not merely to make up for the loss of fruit but also, so far as it seems fitting, of property itself.

But there are some whose minds have grown so filthy, in their greed for silver and their mortal sickness for every kind of gain, giving no thought to how it might be obtained, that they go over the vineyards and olive-groves a second time and strip bare the fields that bear barley and wheat, thereby exposing their own slavish and ignoble pettiness of soul, and at the same time committing impiety.

For they themselves have contributed little toward the cultivation, while nature has supplied most of what is necessary for fruitfulness and abundant growth: timely rains, good mixtures of climate, the continual gentle dews that nourish the growing plants, life-giving breezes, and the harmless succession of the yearly seasons, so that neither does summer scorch nor cold freeze, nor do the turnings of spring and autumn harm what is coming to birth.

And though they know and constantly see nature bringing all this to completion and bestowing it with lavish grace, they nonetheless dare to appropriate her benefits to themselves, and, as though they were the cause of everything, share nothing with anyone, practicing hatred of humanity together with impiety. Since these people have not, of their own free choice, labored to cultivate virtue, he corrects and disciplines them against their will by sacred laws, which the good man obeys willingly, and the wicked man obeys unwillingly.

The laws command that tithes be given to the priests as first-fruits from grain, wine, oil, tame cattle, and wool, and that from the produce of the fields and other tree-fruits, in proportion to one's holdings, offerings be brought in full baskets together with songs composed for God, songs which the most sacred books record and preserve inscribed in writing; and further, that the firstborn of oxen, sheep, and goats not be counted among one's own in the herds, but that these too be reckoned as first-fruits, so that people, by growing accustomed on the one hand to honor the divine, and on the other not to seek gain from everything, may be adorned with piety and love of humanity, the leading virtues among all the virtues.

Again, he says, if you see a beast of burden belonging to a relative, a friend, or, in general, anyone you know, wandering astray in the wilderness, lead it back and restore it; and if its owner happens to be far away, keep it safe among your own animals until he returns and receives back a deposit that he never gave you, but one which you yourself discovered and restore for the sake of the natural fellowship among human beings.

As for the laws concerning the seventh year, by which the land as a whole must be released and left fallow, and the poor may fearlessly go onto the estates of the rich to gather the fruit that has grown of its own accord, a gift of nature — are these not kind and full of love for humanity?

Let the landowners enjoy six years, he says, in return for what they have acquired and cultivated, but let the destitute and the propertyless enjoy the one seventh year, with no work of husbandry being carried out at all; for it would be unjust that some should labor while others reap the fruit. Rather, so that the land might in a sense be left ownerless, with no cultivation touching it, the graces coming from God alone should be complete and whole, meeting those in need halfway.

And what of the ordinances concerning the fiftieth year — do they not surpass every measure of love for humanity? And who, among those who have not merely tasted the legislation with the tips of their lips, but have feasted on it more fully and reveled in doctrines at once most delightful and most beautiful, would not say so?

For in it are accomplished the same provisions as in the seventh year, but it has taken on something still greater: the restoration of one's own properties, which through unwanted circumstances people had ceded to others. For he does not allow full and permanent ownership of what belongs to another, blocking the paths toward greed in order to check ambition, that scheming cause of every evil; nor did he think it right that the original holders should be stripped entirely of what was their own, paying the penalty of poverty — poverty which it is not right to punish, but necessary to pity.

There are also countless other particular ordinances, kind and humane, concerning fellow countrymen; having mentioned these sufficiently in earlier treatises, I shall be content with what has just been said, which I have added here opportunely, by way of example.

Having legislated concerning fellow countrymen, he thinks that converts too deserve to be honored with every privilege, since they have left behind their kin by blood, their homeland, their customs, their shrines, their images of the gods, and the honors and dignities these confer, and have undertaken the noble migration from mythical fabrications to the clear evidence of truth and the reverence of the one God who truly exists.

He therefore commands members of the nation to love the converts, not merely as friends and kinsmen but as themselves, in both body and soul: in body, by acting together so far as possible, and in soul, by sharing the same griefs and joys, so that, though divided into separate parts, they may seem to be a single living creature, their fellowship producing a union that is harmonious and organic.

I need say no more about food and drink and clothing and the other necessities of daily life, which the law directs the native-born to give to converts; for all these follow naturally from the ordinances of goodwill enjoined on one who loves the convert just as he loves himself.

Still further extending and driving forward humaneness — a thing by nature attractive — he legislates also concerning resident aliens, requiring that those who have become migrants in times of need pay some honor to their hosts: full honor to those who have treated them well and received them hospitably, but a more modest honor if they provided nothing beyond mere reception; for simply to find anchorage in a city to which one has no claim, or rather merely to set foot on foreign soil, is by itself a sufficient gift to those unable to dwell in their own land.

But going even beyond the very bounds of fair dealing, he thinks one ought to bear no grudge even against hosts who have treated one badly, since, even if not in their actions, they at least bear the name of hospitable. He says outright: ‘You shall not abhor an Egyptian, because you were a resident alien in Egypt’ (Deuteronomy 23:7).

And yet what evil did the Egyptians leave undone that they did not inflict upon the nation, forever weaving new cruelties into old ones with ever-fresh inventions of savagery? Yet nonetheless, since at the beginning they received them without barring their cities or making the country impassable to those who came, let them have, he says, the privilege owed to hospitality: a treaty of friendship.

And if any of them should wish to change over to the Jewish constitution, they must not be irreconcilably driven off as the children of enemies, but must be received in such a way that even a third generation may be called into the assembly (ibid. v. 8) and given a share in the divine words, in which it is right that even the native-born and highborn should be initiated.

These, then, are the laws he lays down for those who receive resident aliens. But he lays down other kind provisions, full of gentleness, concerning enemies as well. He requires that even when they are already at the gates, standing at the walls in full armor and setting siege engines against them, they should not yet be counted as enemies until, after sending heralds, they have called them to peace — so that, if the enemy yield, the two sides may find the greatest good, friendship; but if they resist more stubbornly, the Israelites, having gained justice as their ally, may advance to their defense in hope of victory.

If, however, from among the spoils of war you come to desire a beautiful woman, do not, he says, vent your passion upon her as upon a mere captive, but rather, taking a more humane pity on the change in her fortune, lighten her misfortune, and reshape everything for the better.

You shall lighten her burden by shaving the hair of her head, cutting her nails, and stripping off the clothing she was wearing when taken captive; and by allowing her thirty days, permitting her to mourn and weep freely for her father and mother and the rest of her family from whom she has been parted — whether they are dead, or enduring in slavery misfortunes worse than death. After this, you shall come together with her lawfully as your wife.

For a woman who is to enter a man's bed, not for hire like a courtesan trafficking the bloom of her youth, but out of love for the man who joins with her or for the begetting of children, deserves to be honored with the sacred rites belonging to lawful marriage.

He has arranged each point exceedingly well. First, he did not allow desire to run unbridled, throwing off restraint, but curbed its violence by imposing a delay of thirty days. Second, he puts the love to the test, to see whether it is a frenzied and fickle thing, wholly given over to passion, or whether it shares in the purer kind, tempered by reason; for reason will shackle desire, allowing it to work no outrage, but making it wait out the appointed month.

Third, he shows pity for the captive woman: if she is a virgin, because no parents give her away in arranging the union she would most have wished for; if she is a widow, because, deprived of her lawful husband, she will now have to make trial of another — and this while the fear of a master hangs over her, even if he practices equality; for what is always subject fears the power of the one who rules, however gentle he may be.

If, however, a man, having satisfied his desire and grown weary of it, no longer wishes to share intimacy with the captive woman, the lawgiver does not so much punish him as admonish and correct him for the improvement of his character; for he commands him neither to sell her nor to keep her any longer as a slave, but to grant her freedom, and also to grant her an unthreatened departure from the household, so that, when another woman comes in out of the rivalry that is natural in such cases, she may not suffer some irreparable harm through jealousy, especially once the master has been led captive by newer charms and has grown indifferent to the older ones.

Pouring one command after another into ears eager to listen, he further enjoins gentleness: if the pack animals of enemies, weighed down by their burdens, should collapse under the load, one must not pass by, but must help lift them up and raise them again — teaching us from afar not to rejoice over the unwanted misfortunes of those who have made themselves our enemies, since he knew malicious pleasure at another's harm to be a bitter, resentful passion, at once the sibling and the rival of envy: sibling, because both spring from passion and both are aroused by the same circumstances, almost following one upon the other; but rival, because the one produces pain at the good things of one's neighbor, while the other produces pleasure at his misfortunes.

And if, he says, you see the pack animal of some enemy wandering astray, set aside the kindling of your quarrel, lead the beast off with a graver disposition, and return it to him. For you will benefit him no more than yourself, since he gains only a dumb animal, perhaps worth nothing much, while you gain the greatest and most honored thing in all nature: nobility of character.

And necessarily following upon this act, as a shadow follows a body, comes the dissolution of enmity; for the one who has been benefited is drawn, even against his will, toward reconciliation, enslaved by the debt of gratitude, while the one who has done the benefit, guided by his own good deed as counselor, has already turned his mind, almost of itself, toward reconciliation.

This is above all what the most sacred prophet wishes to bring about through the whole of his legislation: concord, fellowship, unity of mind, a blending of characters, out of which households and cities, nations and lands, and the whole human race might advance to the highest happiness.

But up to now these remain only prayers; yet they will become, as I persuade myself, most truthful deeds as well, once God grants virtues an abundance like the yearly fruits of the earth — virtues of which may we not fail to have our share, we who have carried the longing for them about with us almost since our earliest years.

These, then, and others like them, are the provisions he established concerning the free. And in harmony with them, it seems, he also legislates concerning slaves, granting to them too a share in the same provisions that tend toward gentleness and humanity.

As for hired laborers who, out of need for the necessities of life, have subjected themselves to the service of others, he thinks they should suffer nothing unworthy of the freedom that is theirs by birth, exhorting those who employ their service to look to the unpredictability of fortune and to feel a due respect for its changes. As for those debtors from daily loans who have taken on the name and condition of bondage, or those who from free persons have become slaves under more violent compulsion, he does not allow them to suffer misfortune forever, but grants them complete release in the seventh year.

For creditors who have not recovered their loan, or who have acquired those formerly free by some other means, six years of service suffice, he says; and those who are not slaves by birth should not be deprived of good hope forever, but should return to the old freedom from care of which they had been deprived through circumstances they did not choose.

And if, he says, a slave of the third generation from another household, whether out of fear of his master's threats, or out of awareness of some wrongdoing, or though he has done no wrong at all but simply has a master otherwise implacable and savage-tempered, takes refuge with you seeking protection, do not overlook him; for it is not right to hand over suppliants, and the slave who has fled for refuge to your hearth as if to a temple is himself a suppliant, one who justly deserves to find sanctuary there — ideally by coming to an honest reconciliation free of any trickery, but if not, then at the very least by being sold as a last resort; for it is unclear which way a change of masters will tip the scale, and an uncertain evil is lighter than one already known.

These, then, are the laws he lays down concerning kin and strangers, friends and enemies, slaves and free persons, and human beings in general. And this same fairness and gentleness he extends even to the nature of irrational animals, granting them too a share, as though they might draw some good thing from a benevolent spring.

For in the case of the tame flocks—sheep, goats, and cattle—he commands that people abstain from immediately enjoying their offspring, taking them neither for food nor on the pretext of sacrifice. For he supposed it to be the mark of a brutal soul to lie in wait for newborn creatures in order to separate them at once from their mothers, for the pleasure of the belly—or rather for some outlandish and perverse craving of the soul.

So he says to the one who is to live according to his most sacred constitution: "Noble friend, you have great abundance of things to enjoy that carry no reproach with them. It might perhaps be pardonable if want and scarcity forced a person to do many things against his will. But you, assigned the finest rank, under the true captaincy of nature's right reason, ought instead to excel in self-control and the other virtues; and because of that reason you must be civilized, admitting nothing crude into your thinking."

What could be more crude than to add, on top of the pangs of birth, further pangs from outside by separating the newborn immediately from its mother? For when they are torn away, the mothers cannot help writhing, on account of a natural affection toward their offspring—especially just after delivery, since the breasts, flowing and finding no nursing infant to relieve them, become swollen and hardened; and pressed by the weight of milk congealed within, they are afflicted with pain.

"Grant, then," he says, "the offspring to its mother—if not for all time, at least nurse it on milk for the first seven days, and do not render useless the springs which nature has poured out abundantly in the breasts, cutting off that second gift which she prepared long in advance, having foreseen from afar, with an eternal and perfect wisdom, what would follow—"

"—for the first gift is birth, through which what is not comes to be; the second is the flow of milk, food most gently suited to the moment, watering every tender and unformed thing, being at once drink and food. For the watery part of the milk is drink, while the part that thickens is food—provided by foresight so that the newborn should not suffer, since need at different times is always being met, but under one and the same feeding it already escapes those bitter mistresses, thirst and hunger, through both kinds of nourishment together."

Having read this law, you virtuous and much-contested parents, hide your faces—you who are forever bent on murder against infants, who lie in wait with evil intent for newborn creatures in order to expose them, you implacable enemies of the whole human race.

By what goodwill will you ever come to anyone, having become the murderers of your own children with your own hands? You who, so far as lies in you, empty the cities, beginning your work of destruction from those nearest in kinship; you who overturn the ordinances of nature and tear down whatever building it has raised, through the savagery of an untamed and unbroken soul, fortifying birth with destruction and life with death.

Do you not see that the lawgiver who is best in all things took care that not even the offspring of irrational animals should be separated from the mother that bore it, until it has been nursed on milk? This was done chiefly for your sake, noble sirs, so that even if not by nature, then at least by instruction you might be taught to love your own kin, looking to lambs and kids, which are not prevented from indulging themselves amid the unstinting provision of what they need—nature having prepared such things in the most fitting places, from which enjoyment will come easily to those in need, and the lawgiver watching over it all with great foresight, so that no one might obstruct these beneficial and life-preserving gifts of God.

Wishing, moreover, in manifold forms to sow the seeds of gentleness and fairness in people's minds, he lays down another ordinance, akin to the previous ones, forbidding that a mother and her offspring be sacrificed together on the same day. For even if one must sacrifice, still it should be done at different times; for it is an excess of savagery to kill the cause of a birth together with the very thing brought to life, on the same day. And to what end is this?

Either on the pretext of sacrifice, or for the pleasure of the belly. If for the sake of sacrifice, then the very name is a lie: such slaughter is butchery, not sacrifice. What altar of God would ever receive victims so unholy? What fire would not split itself in two and pull apart, fleeing the union that comes from so unmixed a deed? I think it would not endure even the briefest moment, but would be extinguished at once, by some providence, lest the air and the most sacred nature of breath be defiled by the rising flame.

But if it is not for the sake of sacrifice but for feasting, who would not charge such people with unnatural and monstrous appetites of gluttony run wild? Such people pursue outlandish pleasures. But what pleasure is there for meat-eaters in tasting, in the same meal, the flesh of mothers and their young? If someone wished to mix their limbs together, skewering them on spits to gorge on the roast, I do not think he could remain calm, but would cry out in protest at the sheer novelty of the outrage and heap countless reproaches on the gluttony of those preparing so unnatural a banquet.

But the law drives away from the sprinklings even any pregnant animal, not permitting it to be slaughtered until it has given birth, reckoning what is in the womb as equal to what has already been born—not because what has not yet come into the light holds an equal rank, but in order to check, from far off, the readiness of those accustomed to throw everything into confusion.

For if what is still growing plantlike, and reckoned a part of the pregnant mother—now united with her, though in the course of months it will be torn away again from that natural union—is protected, for the sake of the hope that it will become a living creature, by leaving the mother free from any scheme against her, so that the pollution just mentioned may not occur, how much more should this hold for what has already been born, possessing its own share of soul and body separately? For of all things the most unholy is to kill offspring and mother together, at one time and on a single day.

Starting from this, it seems to me, some lawgivers introduced the law concerning condemned women, which commands that pregnant women, even if they have done deeds deserving death, be kept under guard until they give birth, so that what is in the womb should not perish along with them when they are put to death.

But these lawgivers recognized this only in the case of human beings; he, however, going further still, extended his fairness even to irrational animals, so that by practicing it toward creatures not of our own kind, we might have all the more abundant a store of humanity toward our own kind, refraining from harming and retaliating against one another, and not hoarding our own goods as treasure but bringing them out into the common good, as to kinsmen and brothers by nature, to all people everywhere.

Let the clever slanderers, then, go on charging this nation with hatred of humanity, and accusing its laws of prescribing something unmixed and unsociable—when it is plain that the laws extend mercy even to the flocks of cattle, while the nation, from its earliest years, through its lawful instruction, tames and reshapes toward gentleness whatever is disobedient in the soul.

He strips for the contest and struggles with himself, so to speak, being prolific in virtue and employing a certain resourcefulness in his fine instructions. For having commanded that, before it is weaned, neither lamb nor kid nor any other creature of the flock be torn from the one that bore it, and having further ordained that mother and offspring not be killed on the same day, he lavishes yet more, saying: "You shall not boil a lamb in its mother's milk" (Exodus 23:19, 34:26; Deuteronomy 14:20).

For he judged it altogether monstrous that the very nourishment of a living creature should become the seasoning and relish of that same creature once killed—that nature, taking care for its preservation, should have poured out milk, which she arranged to flow through the mother's breasts as though from reservoirs, while human intemperance should go so far as to misuse the very cause of life for the consumption of the rest of the body as well.

If someone insists on boiling meat in milk, let him do it without cruelty and without impiety. There are countless flocks everywhere, milked every day by cowherds, goatherds, and shepherds, for whom milk is the chief source of income from their herding—some of it poured out as it is, some condensed and pressed into cheese. So that, when abundance is available, whoever boils the flesh of lambs or kids or any other creature in its mother's milk displays a harsh crudeness of character, cutting away the most necessary and most kindred feeling to a rational soul: pity.

I admire also that other law, which, like a chorus singing in full harmony with the earlier ones, declares: you shall not muzzle an ox while it threshes. This is the very ox that, before the sowing of the deep-soiled plain, cuts open the furrows and prepares the fields in advance for both heaven and farmer—for the one, so that it may sow in season; for the other, so that deep hollows, receiving the gifts of the rains, may store and dispense from little by little rich nourishment for the seed, until, bearing ears of grain, it brings the yearly crop to completion. And after that completion, the ox is again needed for another service: the threshing of the sheaves and the separation of the chaff from what is genuine and useful.

But since I have spoken of the gentle and kindly ordinance concerning oxen that thresh, I will next set out the law laid down concerning beasts that plow, which is of the same kinship. For it forbids yoking together, for plowing the earth, an ox and a donkey—not only out of regard for the incompatibility between the animals, since the one is clean and the donkey is among the unclean, and it is not fitting to bring together things so estranged from one another, but also because their strength is unequal, and he takes forethought for the weaker, so that it not be crushed and oppressed by the greater force of the stronger. And yet the weaker one, the donkey, is driven outside the sprinklings, while the stronger, the ox, the law allows to be offered in the most solemn sacrifices.

But even so, he did not disregard the weakness of the unclean, nor did he allow the clean to use their strength against them without justice—all but crying aloud, openly, to those who have ears in their soul, that none should wrong any foreigner, since they have nothing to be charged with, for being of another race is no fault at all; for whatever stands apart from every accusation, free of vice and the effects of vice, is blameless.

Lavishing his fairness yet again, he uses it richly and to the full, passing from rational beings to irrational ones, and from irrational beings to plants, of which I must speak next, since I have already spoken of the former—human beings and all that has a share of soul.

He has expressly forbidden cutting down cultivated trees, or shearing, to its harm, a plain that is bearing grain before its season, or destroying fruit altogether—so that the human race might be supplied from an unstinting abundance of food, and might live in plenty not only of what is necessary but also of what belongs to a life of refinement. For the fruit of grain, set apart for human food, is necessary; while the countless varieties of tree-fruit belong to a life of refinement—though these often, in times of scarcity, become food of a second resort as well.

And going further still, he does not even allow the land of enemies to be cut down, but commands restraint from felling trees and from ravaging, judging it monstrous to vent one's anger against human beings upon things that are the cause of no harm.

And going even further, he does not permit the cutting down even of the enemies' land, but commands them to refrain from felling trees and ravaging, since he considered it absurd that anger meant for men should be vented on things responsible for no wrong.

Next he requires that one look not only to the present but also, as if from a watchtower far off, discern the future with the sharp-sightedness of reasoning, since nothing remains in the same state but all things undergo turns and changes; so it is likely that those who were until now enemies, once someone has opened negotiations and initiated terms of reconciliation, may straightaway become allies under treaty.

It would be harsh to deprive future friends of the necessities of life, laying up for oneself nothing of what is beneficial, because of the uncertainty of the future. For that saying of the ancients is finely put: that one should enter into friendship without ruling out the possibility of enmity, and give offense as though friendship were still to come, so that each person may keep something in reserve, according to his own nature, for the sake of security, and not, having stripped himself bare in deeds and words, repent later, blaming himself for excessive rashness when it is of no use.

This maxim cities too must keep, taking forethought in peace for the needs of war, and in war for the needs of peace, neither trusting their allies without limit as though they would never turn to the opposing side, nor altogether distrusting their enemies as though they could never shift their anchorage toward alliance.

But even if nothing should be done for an enemy's sake in hope of reconciliation, still no plant is an enemy; rather all are at peace with us and beneficial, and the cultivated ones especially are indispensable, since their fruit is either food itself or a possession equal in value to food. Why then should we wage war on things that are not warlike, cutting them down or burning them or tearing them up by their very roots—things which nature herself has brought to maturity by the flow of waters and the good tempering of the air, so that they might bring men yearly tribute as though to kings?

He, like a good guardian, took care to produce, by a kind of training regimen, strength and vigor not only in animals but also in plants, and especially in the cultivated ones, since these are worthy of greater attention and are not as naturally vigorous as the wild ones, needing the skill of husbandry for a more powerful growth.

For he commands that newly planted trees be tended for three successive years, cutting away the excess shoots, so that they not be weighed down and oppressed, and so that, their nourishment not being fragmented, they not grow weak from deficiency; and that the ground around them be dug and turned, so that nothing harmful may spring up alongside to hinder their growth. And he does not allow the fruit to be picked for enjoyment and use, not only because it would be imperfect fruit from an imperfect tree—for even among animals, whatever is not yet mature does not produce mature offspring—but also because the young trees would be harmed and, in a sense, stunted and kept low to the ground if prevented from putting forth their growth freely.

But after three years, when the roots have gone deeper, gripping the soil more firmly, and the trunk, resting as it were on unshaken foundations, has grown vigorously, it will be able to bear mature fruit in the fourth year, in accordance with the perfect number, four.

In the fourth year, however, he commands that the fruit not be picked for enjoyment, but that the whole of it be consecrated as first fruits to God—on the one hand as thanksgiving for what has already come to pass, and on the other as an expression of hope for future fruitfulness and continued yield thereafter.

See how much gentleness and goodness he shows, and how he has poured it out first toward every kind of human being, even if one is a foreigner or an enemy; then toward irrational animals, even those that are not clean; and beyond all these, toward crops and trees alike. For the one who has first learned fairness toward natures that have no perception will never do wrong to any creature endowed with soul, and the one who does not attempt to act destructively toward living things is taught, from far off, to take care of rational beings as well.

By such teachings he tamed the thinking of those who lived under his laws, and separated them from arrogance and boastfulness, the most grievous and most burdensome of evils, which the many cling to as though they were the greatest goods—especially whenever wealth, reputation, and positions of power furnish an abundant excess of resources.

For boastfulness grows even in neglected and obscure people, as does each of the other passions, diseases, and infirmities of the soul; but it does not gain further increase in them—rather, like a fire's substance, it dims for want of fuel. It shows itself openly, however, in the great, who have, as I said, wealth, reputation, and power as its providers; and once filled to the brim with these, like men who have drunk deep of unmixed wine, they become drunk and behave with the insolence of drunkards toward slaves and free alike. And sometimes this happens to whole cities as well: "for surfeit breeds insolence," as the old saying goes.

For this reason Moses, revealing sacred things, most excellently exhorts people to abstain from all sins, but especially from arrogance. Then he reminds them of the things that habitually kindle this passion: the unmeasured filling of the belly, and an abundant excess of houses, possessions, and livestock. For at once such people become unable to master themselves, puffed up and swollen with pride, for whom the one hope of a cure is never to forget God.

For just as, when the sun has risen, the darkness vanishes and all things are filled with light, in the same way, whenever God, the sun perceived by the mind, rises and shines upon the soul, the murk of the passions and vices is scattered, and the purest and most lovely

form of the most radiant virtue is revealed. And wishing still further to restrain and abolish arrogance, he adds the reasons why one ought to carry the memory of God as an image never to be forgotten. "For he," he says, "gives you the strength to gain power" (Deut 8:18)—a most instructive statement. For the one who has been precisely taught that his vigor and robustness are a gift received from God, reckoning up his own weakness, which he had before enjoying this gift, will cast off his lofty and overweening pride and will give thanks to the cause of the change for the better. A grateful soul is the enemy of boastfulness, since, conversely, ingratitude is akin to arrogance.

'And if,' he says, 'your affairs prosper, once you have received and acquired strength which perhaps you did not expect, produce power.' What this means must be made more precise for those who do not fully grasp what is meant. Many attempt to bring about the opposite of what has benefited them: for either, having grown rich, they contrive poverty for others, or, having gained a great share of reputation and honor, they become the cause of disrepute and dishonor for others.

But the prudent man, as far as possible, ought to make those who associate with him quick-witted; the temperate man ought to make them self-controlled; the courageous man, noble and brave; the just man, just; and, in general, the good man ought to make them good. For these, it seems, are powers, which the man of refinement will embrace as most his own; but powerlessness and weakness, their opposites, are foreign to virtuous character.

Besides, he teaches a lesson most fitting to rational nature: to imitate God as far as possible, omitting nothing that contributes to the likeness attainable by us. 'Since, then,' he says, 'you have received strength from the most powerful one, share your strength with others, passing on what you have experienced, so that you may imitate God by bestowing similar benefits.'

For the gifts of the first ruler are beneficial to the community—the gifts he gives to some, not so that they, upon receiving them, should hide them away or misuse them to others' harm, but so that, bringing them out into the open as at a public feast, they might invite as many as possible to their use and enjoyment.

We say, then, to the man of great wealth, the man of reputation, the man of good bodily condition, and the man of knowledge, that he should make those he encounters rich, reputable, well-conditioned, and knowledgeable, and, in general, good—rather than, preferring envy and malice to virtue, standing in the way of those capable of doing well.

Those who breathe great arrogance in its intensified form, being incurably disposed in every respect, the law most excellently did not bring before human judgment, but handed over to the divine tribunal alone. For it says: whoever undertakes to act with insolence 'provokes God' (Num 15:30). Why is this?

Because, first, arrogance is a vice of the soul, and the soul is invisible to anyone but God; and a blind punisher is blameworthy, having ignorance as his accuser, while one who sees is praiseworthy, doing everything with knowledge. Secondly, because every boastful person, having become filled with irrational pride, supposes himself to be, in Pindar's words, 'neither a man nor a demigod but a god entire,' claiming to step beyond the bounds of human nature.

For such a person, just as his soul, so too his body is blameworthy in all its postures and movements alike: he walks on tiptoe, holds his neck raised high in a display of pride, is puffed up and swollen beyond his nature, and though seeing, looks askance with sidelong glances, and though hearing, pretends not to hear. He treats his household servants like cattle, free persons like servants, his own relatives like strangers, his friends like flatterers, and his fellow citizens like foreigners.

He thinks himself the wealthiest, most honored, most handsome, strongest, wisest, most temperate, most just, most eloquent, and most learned of all; and then he supposes everyone else to be poor, disreputable, dishonored, foolish, unjust, ignorant—refuse, mere nothing. Fittingly, then, such a man would have as his adversary and punisher, as the revealer of sacred things says, God himself. On Repentance.

Moses, the most holy, being a lover of virtue, a lover of nobility, and above all a lover of humanity, exhorts all people everywhere to be zealots for piety and justice, setting before those who repent great rewards, as though to victors: a share in the finest commonwealth, and the enjoyment of both its lesser and its greater benefits.

For among the goods that come first, in bodies it is unbroken health, in ships it is safe sailing, and in souls it is the unfailing memory of what deserves to be remembered; second are the goods established by correction—recovery from sickness, the most welcome deliverance from the dangers of a voyage, and the recollection that arises out of forgetting, whose sibling and closest kin is repentance, which is ranked not in the first and highest class of goods, but is carried in the class that comes second after it.

For never sinning at all belongs to God alone, and perhaps also to a godlike man; but for one who has sinned to change over to a blameless life belongs to a prudent person who has not, in every respect, failed to see what is advantageous.

This is why, gathering such people together and initiating them, he calls them forward, holding out conciliatory and friendly guidance, which urges them to practice truthfulness and to cast away vanity, and to hold fast to truth and freedom from vanity as the causes most necessary for happiness, rising up against the fabrications of myth which, from earliest childhood, while their souls were still tender, their parents and nurses and tutors and countless other familiars had engraved in them, fashioning an endless wandering away from knowledge of what is best.

What, after all, could be best among the things that exist, other than God? Yet people have assigned his honors to things that are not gods, exalting them beyond due measure while wholly forgetting him—those empty of sense. All, then, who have deemed it right to revere the creator and father of the universe, even if not from the beginning, but who later embraced monarchy in place of the rule of many, must be considered dearest and closest of kin, since they offer the greatest thing toward friendship and intimacy: a disposition dear to God. With them one ought to rejoice together, just as one would rejoice with those who, having been blind before, regained their sight and saw the most radiant light out of the deepest darkness.

The first and most necessary of the steps toward repentance, then, has been stated. But let a person repent not only for the things by which he was deceived for a long time, admiring the things that have come into being ahead of the uncreated one and maker, but also in all the other matters necessary to life, passing over, as it were, from the worst of bad constitutions, mob rule, to the most law-abiding constitution, democracy—that is, from ignorance to knowledge, of which ignorance is shameful, from folly to prudence, from lack of self-control to self-control, from injustice to justice, from cowardice to courage.

For it is altogether noble and advantageous to desert, without turning back, to virtue, abandoning vice, that scheming mistress; and at the same time it is necessary to follow it, as a shadow follows a body in sunlight, and

the honoring of the truly existing God brings with it fellowship in all the other virtues as well. For newcomers immediately become self-controlled, disciplined, modest, gentle, good, humane, dignified, just, magnanimous, lovers of truth, superior to wealth and pleasure; since, conversely, one can see that those who have deserted the sacred laws are undisciplined, shameless, unjust, undignified, small-minded, quarrelsome, companions of falsehood and perjury, having sold their freedom for delicacies, strong drink, pastries, and physical beauty, for the pleasures of the belly and those below the belly, whose ends are the heaviest penalties of both body and soul.

Truly beautiful, moreover, are the instructions he gives toward repentance, by which we are taught to retune our life, changing from discord to a better harmony; for he says that this matter is not something enormous, nor set far off, neither up in the sky above nor at the ends of the earth, nor beyond the great sea, so as to be hard to grasp, but is very near, dwelling in three parts of our being—mouth, heart, and hands—symbolized by words, intentions, and actions: the mouth is the symbol of speech, the heart of intention, and the hands of actions, and in these lies happiness.

For whenever the speech is of one kind and the judgment likewise, and the intention is of one kind and the action likewise, life is praiseworthy and complete; but whenever these are at odds with one another, life is incomplete and blameworthy. If a person does not forget this harmony, he will be well-pleasing to God, becoming at once beloved of God and a lover of God. Hence, well and in harmony with what has been said, that oracle was employed: "You have chosen God today to be your God, and the Lord has chosen you today to become his people" (Deuteronomy 26:17–18).

Truly beautiful is this exchange of choice, with the human being eager to serve the Existing One, and God, without delay, making his own the suppliant, and coming forward to meet the intention of the one who approaches his service genuinely and without pretense. The true worshiper and suppliant, even if he happens to be a single individual in number, is, in power—just as he himself chooses—the whole people, having become equal in honor to an entire nation.

And this is its natural condition. For just as on a ship the helmsman counterbalances all the sailors, and in an army the general counterbalances all the soldiers—for if he is destroyed, defeat follows, just as if the entire force had been captured to a man—in the same way the wise man rivals an entire nation in worth, fortified by an indestructible wall: piety. On nobility of birth—

For this reason those who extol nobility of birth as the greatest good and the cause of great goods deserve no small censure, if, in the first place, they think noble those descended from long-wealthy and long-famous families, when not even their ancestors, from whom they boast their descent, achieved happiness through their abundant resources—since the good in truth is not by nature disposed to dwell in anything external, nor even in anything of the body, nor indeed in any part of the soul, but only in the governing faculty.

For God, wishing, out of gentleness and love for humanity, to establish this among us too, found no shrine more worthy on earth than reason; for he alone, being superior, is the good—even if some disbelieve it, those who have either not tasted wisdom at all or have tasted it only with the tips of their lips—for silver and gold, honors and offices, and bodily vigor together with beauty seem sufficient to those assigned to the needs of positions of leadership, for the service that belongs to royal virtue... [text broken] ...not having seen the most radiant light.

Since, then, nobility of birth is the proper inheritance of a mind purified by perfect purifications, one must call noble only the self-controlled and the just, even if they happen to have come from household slaves or purchased slaves; but for those who, born of good parents, have become base, let the territory of nobility be forbidden ground.

For the base person is homeless and stateless, driven out from the fatherland of virtue, which is in truth the fatherland of wise men as well; and low birth necessarily follows him, even if he should be descended from grandfathers or ancestors of blameless life, if he practices estrangement and disjoins himself as far as possible from nobility, both in words and in deeds.

But indeed, besides the fact that the base are not by nature noble, I see all of them as irreconcilable enemies of nobility, tearing down the ancestral dignity and

whatever is splendid in their lineage, dimming and extinguishing it. For this reason it seems to me that the most affectionate fathers issue formal disowning, cutting their sons off from house and kinship, whenever the natural, exceeding and overflowing goodwill of parents toward their offspring is overpowered by the wickedness found in them.

The truth of this account is easy to discern from other examples as well. What benefit would ancestral sharpness of sight be to one whose eyes are blinded? Or what use, for eloquence, is it to one whose tongue is paralyzed, that his parents or grandfathers were loud-voiced? What good does it do, toward vigor, for one wasted away by a long, consuming illness, if the founders of his family are recorded as Olympic or circuit victors for their athletic strength? For the ravages of the body remain no less severe in a similar case, admitting no improvement on account of the good fortunes of one's relatives.

In the very same way, just parents are of no benefit to the unjust, nor self-controlled parents to the undisciplined, nor good parents in general to the wicked; for indeed the laws are of no benefit to lawbreakers, of whom the laws themselves are the punishers—and certain unwritten laws are also the lives of those who have emulated virtue.

Hence I think that nobility, if God had stamped it into a human form, standing before its rebellious offspring, would say something like this: "Kinship is not measured by blood alone, when truth presides, but by likeness of actions and pursuit of the same things. But you have practiced the opposite, considering what is dear to me hateful, and what is hostile, dear; for with me, reverence and truth, moderation of feeling and freedom from vanity and guilelessness are honored, but among you these are dishonored; and shamelessness, falsehood, excess of passion, vanity, and vices are hateful to me, but to you these are most intimate.

Why, then, having practiced estrangement in deed, do you feign the kinship that is in word, slipping under a becoming name as a disguise? For I do not tolerate deceptive tricks and cunning frauds, since it is easy for anyone at all to find fine-sounding words, but it is not easy to exchange base characters for good ones.

Looking to these things, both now and hereafter I will consider as enemies those who have kindled the fuel of hostility, and I will regard them with more suspicion than those reproached for low birth; for the latter have this defense, that they have no household model of nobility and goodness to draw on, but you are liable to judgment, you who were born of great houses, for whom splendid lineages are a source of pride and glory; for though models of goodness stood beside you and were, in a manner of speaking, part of your very nature, you took thought to imitate nothing noble from them."

That nobility is placed in the possession of virtue, and that it is only the one who has this whom he has understood to be noble—not whoever happens to be born of fine and good parents—is clear from many examples.

Take at once those born of the earth-born man: who would not call them well-born, and the founders of the well-born? They obtained an exceptional lineage above those who came after, having sprung from the first bridal pair, man and woman, when they first came together in common intercourse for the begetting of their kind. And yet, though there were two of them, the elder brought himself to murder the younger by treachery, and having committed the greatest pollution, fratricide, he was the first to stain the earth with human blood.

What good, then, did nobility of birth do for this man, who displayed baseness of soul? God, the overseer of human affairs, seeing it, loathed it, and, holding it up as a warning, fixed penalties for it—not putting him to death at once, so that he would be insensible to misfortune, but hanging over him countless deaths perceived through sense, amid griefs and successive fears, to the perception of the most painful evils.

There was, in the generations after this, a man of the highest repute, a man most holy, whose piety the lawgiver thought worthy to be inscribed in the sacred books. In the great flood, when cities were vanishing in total destruction — for even the highest mountains were being swallowed as the flood's onrush swelled and intensified — he alone, with his household, was saved, having won the prize of nobility of character, than which none greater can be found.

Yet even this man, once he had three sons who had shared equally in their father's gift, found that one of them dared to mock and jeer at the very father who had caused his safety, over some slip made without deliberate intent, exposing to those who did not know of it what decency requires be hidden, to his begetter's shame. So he gained nothing from his brilliant nobility of birth, becoming instead accursed, and the beginning of misfortune for his descendants — the very fate that one who had neglected honor toward a parent deserved to meet.

But why should one dwell on these when there is the first man, the earth-born, to consider? His nobility was beyond comparison with any mortal's, for he was shaped by divine hands into a bodily statue, and deemed worthy of a soul drawn from nothing that belongs to the realm of becoming, since God breathed into him as much of his own power as mortal nature could receive. Is this not a nobility so surpassing that it cannot be brought into comparison with any of those others that have won renown?

For the glory of others rests on the good fortune of their ancestors — and human ancestors are perishable, corruptible creatures, whose successes are for the most part unstable and short-lived — but his father was no mortal at all: it was the eternal God.

Having become, in a sense, an image of him — with respect to the ruling mind within the soul — he ought to have kept that image unstained, so far as possible, by following the virtues of his begetter. Yet when good and evil, the noble and the shameful, the true and the false, were set before him for choice or avoidance, he eagerly chose the false, the shameful, and the evil, and disregarded the good, the noble, and the true. For this, quite reasonably, he exchanged the immortal life of blessedness and happiness for a mortal one, having fallen from it, and with the greatest ease he passed over into a toilsome and miserable existence.

Let these, then, stand as principles common to all humanity, that those who lack nobility of character should not pride themselves on great lineage. But for the Jews there are other examples too, distinct from these common ones, and peculiar to them. For among the founders of their nation are some whom the virtues of their ancestors availed nothing at all, once they were caught in reprehensible and culpable actions — even if convicted by no one else, still convicted by their own conscience, the one tribunal out of all that no rhetorical art can lead astray.

The first of these had many children, having begotten offspring by three wives, not for the enjoyment of pleasure but in hope of multiplying his line; yet out of many, only one alone was declared heir of his father's blessings, while all the rest, having failed in soundness of judgment and having taken on nothing of their begetter's character, were sent away, estranged from that celebrated nobility.

Again, from the heir who had proved worthy, twin sons were born, bearing no resemblance to each other — not even in body, let alone in disposition, except for their hands, and that only for a certain arrangement of providence. The younger was obedient to both parents and so pleasing that he even won God's commendation, but the elder was disobedient, uncontrolled in the pleasures of the belly and those that follow the belly, and by these he was persuaded even to give up his birthright to the one born after him, and immediately to regret having given it up, and to plot murder against his brother, and to occupy himself with nothing but ways of grieving his parents.

And so for the one they set the highest prayers, God confirming every one of them and deigning to leave none unfulfilled, while to the other, out of pity, they granted a subordinate rank, that he should serve his brother — considering it a good thing, as indeed it is, for the worthless man not to be his own master.

And had he borne his servitude willingly, he would have been judged worthy of second honors, as in a contest of virtue; but as it is, having grown insolent and having run away from that good governance, he became the cause of great reproaches both for himself and for his descendants, so that his unlivable life stands as a monument to the clearest proof that nobility of birth benefits nothing those unworthy of nobility.

These, then, belong to the reprehensible rank — men whom the virtues of their fathers profited nothing once they had turned wicked from good, while the vices in their souls did them countless harm. But I can name others assigned to the opposite and better rank, men whose ancestors were culpable, yet whose own lives were enviable and full of good report.

The most venerable of the Jewish nation was Chaldean by birth, the son of an astronomer, one of those occupied with the mathematical sciences, who hold the stars to be gods, and the whole heaven and cosmos, and say that on these depend the good and ill fortune that befalls each person, supposing there to be no cause outside the objects of sense.

What could be harder than this, or better able to expose the ignoble state of the soul, than for a man, through knowledge of the many, secondary, created things — a knowledge that leads to ignorance of the One, the eldest, the uncreated, the maker of all — to arrive, on account of this and countless other reasons that human reasoning cannot grasp for their vastness, at the conviction that this One alone is best?

Having grasped some notion of these things, and moved by divine inspiration, he left his homeland, his kindred, and his father's house, knowing that if he remained, the deceptions of polytheistic belief would remain lodged in him too, rendering the discovery of the One impossible — the One who alone is eternal and father of all things, both intelligible and perceptible — but that if he emigrated, the deception of his understanding would emigrate as well, exchanging false belief for truth.

At the same time, the longing he felt to know the Existent One was further kindled by oracles delivered to him, guided by which he pressed on with the most tireless zeal in his search for the One; nor did he relent until he had gained clearer visions — not of God's essence, for that is impossible — but of his existence and his providence.

For this reason he is said to have been the first to believe in God, since he was also the first to hold an unshaken and firm conviction that there is one supreme cause, and that it exercises providence over the cosmos and all that is in it. Having acquired faith, the most steadfast of the virtues, he acquired along with it all the others as well, so that among those who received him he came to be regarded as a king — not by reason of his equipment, for he was a private individual, but by the greatness of his soul, possessing as he did a kingly disposition.

And indeed those he dwelt among continued to serve him as their ruler, struck with awe at the greatness, surpassing that of an ordinary human, that pervaded his whole nature. He did not engage in the same kind of converse as others, but was often moved by inspiration to loftier speech. Whenever he was so possessed, everything about him changed for the better — his looks, his color, his stature, his bearing, his movements, his voice — as the divine spirit, breathed upon him from above and taking up residence in his soul, clothed his body with an extraordinary beauty, his words with persuasiveness, and his hearers with understanding.

Would you not say, then, that this emigrant, bereft of all kin and friends, was the noblest of men, since he yearned for kinship with God and strove by every means to become known to him, and was assigned the finest rank of all, that of prophet, trusting nothing among created things above the uncreated father of all — and was, as I said, regarded as king by those who received him, having taken up his rule not by weapons or by military force, as is customary for some, but by the appointment of God, the friend of virtue, who honors the lovers of piety with sovereign powers for the benefit of those they encounter?

This man is the standard of nobility for all proselytes. Those who abandon ignobility — the ignobility that comes from alien laws and lawless customs, which assigned divine honors to stones and pieces of wood and, in short, to lifeless things — and who make the noble migration to a truly living and animate commonwealth, whose overseer and guardian is truth, follow his example.

This nobility was aspired to not only by men beloved of God but by women as well, who unlearned the ignorance, bred into them, of honoring things made by human hands, and were instructed instead in the knowledge of the sole sovereignty by which the cosmos is ruled.

Tamar was a woman from Syrian Palestine, raised in a household and city full of polytheism, teeming with carved images, statues, and objects of worship of every kind. But when, as if out of deep darkness, she was able to glimpse a faint ray of truth, she deserted to piety at the risk of death, giving little thought to living, unless she were to live nobly; and by living nobly she meant nothing other than the service and supplication of the one Cause.

And though she was married in succession to two brothers, both wicked men — the earlier as her lawful husband, the later by the law of levirate obligation, since the first had left no offspring — she nevertheless kept her own life unstained, and had the strength to obtain the good report due to the virtuous, and to become the source of nobility for all who came after her. She, though a foreigner, was nonetheless free-born, of free parents, and of no obscure standing either.

But maidservants born beyond the Euphrates, in the farthest reaches of Babylon, who were given as dowry-gifts to their mistresses when the latter married, and who were then judged worthy to come to the bed of a wise man, at first passed from the status of concubines to the name and standing of wives, and, instead of remaining maidservants, were raised by their mistresses to equal honor with them — a thing scarcely credible — being advanced to the very same rank. For envy does not take up residence in the souls of the wise, and where it is absent, all goods are shared in common.

And the children born of these unions, though illegitimate, were in no way inferior to the legitimate ones — not only in their father's eyes, for it is no wonder that the common father of all showed the same goodwill to those not born of the same womb, but also in the eyes of their stepmothers. For the stepmothers, setting aside the hatred customarily felt toward stepchildren, transformed it into an affection beyond words, while the stepchildren, for their part,

in return for this goodwill, honored their stepmothers as if they were mothers by nature. And the brothers, though reckoned as only half of one lineage, did not think it fitting to love one another by halves, but rather doubled the passion of loving and being loved, and made up in fullness for what seemed to be lacking, striving to achieve harmony and blending of character among all the children born of both mothers.

What share, then, should be given to those who put on nobility of birth—another's good—as if it were their own? Apart from what has already been said, they might justly be regarded as enemies both of the Jewish nation and of everyone everywhere: enemies of their own people, because they give their kinsmen license to neglect a sound and settled life, trusting instead in the virtue of their ancestors; and enemies of everyone else, because even if these men should attain the very summit of nobility and goodness, they will gain nothing from it, since they did not happen to have blameless parents and grandparents.

I do not know whether any teaching could be more harmful than this one—if punishing justice were not to follow the wicked children of good parents, and honor were not to attend the good children of wicked ones, since the law tests each person on his own merits, and praises or punishes him not for the virtues or vices of his relatives.

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