speaks confusedly. We must submit to this as long as his sentiments are right. I do not, however, approve, and it is as much as I can do to endure, a philosopher speaking of the necessity of setting bounds to the desires. Is it possible to set bounds to the desires? I say that they must be banished, eradicated by the roots. For what man is there in whom appetites[1] dwell, who can deny that he may with propriety be called appetitive? If so, he will be avaricious, though to a limited extent; and an adulterer, but only in moderation; and he will be luxurious in the same manner. Now what sort of a philosophy is that which does not bring with it the destruction of depravity, but is content with a moderate degree of vice? Although in this division I am altogether on his side as to the facts, only I wish he would express himself better. Let him call these feelings the wishes of nature; and let him keep the name of desire for other objects, so as, when speaking of avarice, of intemperance, and of the greatest vices, to be able to indict it as it were on a capital charge. However, all this is said by him with a good deal of freedom, and is often repeated; and I do not blame him, for it is becoming in so great a philosopher, and one of such a great reputation, to defend his own degrees fearlessly.
But still, from the fact of his often appearing to embrace that pleasure, (I mean that which all nations call by this name,) with a good deal of eagerness, he is at times in great difficulties, so that, if he could only pass undetected, there is nothing so shameful that it does not seem likely that he would do it for the sake of pleasure. And then, when he has been put to the blush, (for the power of nature is very great,) he takes refuge in denying that any addition can possibly be made to the pleasure of the man who is free from pain. But that state of freedom from pain is not called pleasure. I do not care, says he, about the name. But what do you say about the thing being utterly different?—I will find you many men, or I may say an innumerable host, not so curious nor so embarrassing as you are, whom I can easily convince of whatever I choose. Why then do we hesitate to say that,
- ↑ It is hardly possible to translate this so as to give the force of the original. Cicero says, If cupiditas is in a man he must be cupidus, and we have no English word which will at all answer to this adjective in this sense.
