Book 3, Chapter 19

44 “Epicurus must admit these things, or remove from his book the passages I have just rendered word for word—or rather discard the entire book, for it is packed with pleasures. We must therefore ask how to free from distress someone who speaks like this: “‘By Pollux, fortune fails me now more than my birth. “‘For I had a kingdom—so you may know from what a height, “‘From what wealth and circumstances, fallen fortune strikes.’ “What? Must we thrust a cup of honeyed wine upon him, or something of the sort, to stop his weeping? Look now at the other side, from the same poet: ‘From highest wealth, in need of your help, Hector.’ We must come to her aid, for she seeks assistance: “‘What protection can I seek or pursue? In what “‘Help can I now trust in exile or in flight? “‘Stripped of citadel and city, where can I fall, where turn? “‘My country’s altars no longer stand at home, but lie broken and scattered; “‘The shrines are burned in flame; the high walls stand scorched, “‘Disfigured, with their warped fir timbers—’ “You know what follows, and especially these lines: “‘O father, O country, O house of Priam, “‘Temple enclosed by a loud-sounding hinge! “‘I saw you, with foreign forces standing by, “‘With carved and paneled ceilings, “‘Royally furnished in gold and ivory.’

45 “What an outstanding poet, though these singers of Euphorion despise him! He perceives that everything sudden and unexpected is harder to bear. Having therefore magnified the royal wealth that seemed destined to last forever, what does he add? “‘I saw all this set ablaze, “‘Priam robbed of life by violence, “‘Jupiter’s altar fouled with blood.’

46 “A magnificent song! In subject, language, and rhythms alike it is full of mourning. Let us take away her distress. How? Shall we settle her on a feather cushion, bring in a girl to play the harp, offer a sweet perfume, burn a little dish of <fragrances>, and look for something sweet to drink and eat? Are these, then, the good things by which the gravest distress is to be removed? A moment ago you said you could not even conceive of any others. I would agree with Epicurus, then, that we ought to be recalled from grief to the thought of good things, if we agreed about what a good thing is.”

44 “Epicurus must admit this, or remove from his book the passages I’ve just translated word for word. Better still, he must throw out the whole book: it’s crammed with pleasures. So we have to ask how to free someone from distress who speaks like this: “‘By Pollux, it’s fortune that fails me now, more than my ancestry. “‘I had a kingdom, I tell you, so you may know from what a height, “‘From what wealth, from what possessions my fallen fortune has crashed.’ “Well? Should we force a cup of honeyed wine on him to make him stop crying, or something of that sort? Here’s another case, from the same poet: ‘From the greatest wealth to needing your help, Hector.’ We must come to her aid. She’s asking for help: “‘What protection should I seek or pursue? What “‘Help can I now rely on in exile or flight? “‘I’ve lost my fortress and city. Where can I fall? Where can I turn? “‘At home my country’s altars don’t stand; they lie broken and scattered. “‘The shrines have burned down; high walls stand scorched, “‘Disfigured, with fir wood curled—’ “You know what follows, especially these lines: “‘My father, my country, Priam’s home, “‘The temple enclosed by a loudly ringing hinge! “‘I saw you with foreign forces standing in support, “‘With carved and paneled ceilings, “‘Royally furnished with gold and ivory.’

45 “A wonderful poet! Never mind the contempt of these people who sing Euphorion’s praises. He knows how much worse a blow feels when it strikes suddenly, without warning. That’s why he first magnifies the riches of the royal house, apparently there to last forever. Then what comes next? “‘I watched the whole place burning, “‘Priam’s life torn from him by force, “‘The altar of Jupiter fouled with blood.’

46 “What a splendid poem! Its events, words, and rhythms are all mournful. Let’s take away her distress. How? Should we put her on a feather cushion, bring in a woman to play the harp, give her perfume, burn a little dish of incense, and look for some sweet drink and food? Are these really the good things that can remove the heaviest distress? Just a little while ago you said you couldn’t even understand any others. So I’d agree with Epicurus that people should be brought back from grief to thinking about good things—if we agreed on what ‘good’ meant.”