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This selection of stories from Ovid's Metamorphōsēs is designed for those who have completed a beginners' course in Latin. Its purpose is restricted and unsophisticated: to help such users, who will have read little or no Ovid, to enjoy the story-telling, character-drawing and language of one of the world's most delightful and influential poets. Assistance given with vocabulary and grammar is based on two widely used beginners' courses, Reading Latin and Wheelock's Latin (for details, see Vocabulary, grammar and notes below).
My general principle is to supply help on a need-to-know basis for the story in hand. The Vocabulary, grammar and notes and Learning vocabularies accompanying the text speak for themselves. The Comment at the end of each passage is an occasionally embellished paraphrase whose main purpose is to point up important detail and show how the logic of each story unfolds. I make no apology for this. With the minimal amount of time today's students have for learning the language, the demands of translation alone can be so heavy that it is all too easy to miss the wood for the trees and hamper the whole purpose of the exercise – pleasure, one of the most useful things in the world. The Study sections offer ways of thinking further about the passage.
My debt to W. S. Anderson's excellent Ovid's Metamorphoses Books 1–5 (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1997) and Ovid's Metamorphoses Books 6–10 (Norman and London: University of Oklahoma Press, 1972) will be obvious.
So distraught were the daughters of the Sun, the Heliades, at Phaethon's death that they were turned into trees around his tomb and their tears into amber; while Cycnus (a grieving relative of Phaethon) was turned into a swan (Greek kuknos). The Sun was finally persuaded to return to his daily task, and Jupiter surveyed the damage to the world. While doing so, he had his way with the huntress Callisto, whom a furious Juno turned into a bear, but Jupiter re-transformed into a constellation. Various stories about gods' affairs, some told by a crow and a raven, ensue, and Book 2 ends with Jupiter, disguised as a bull, riding off with Europa.
Book 3 opens with Europa's father Agenor, who came from Phoenicia (Lebanon), ordering his son Cadmus to find Europa or go into exile. Cadmus chose the latter and consulted Apollo at Delphi, who told him to found a city (Thebes) in Greece, in Boeotia. Defeating a terrifying serpent there (which had killed all his companions), Cadmus was told by Athena/Minerva to sow its teeth in the ground. From these sprang armed warriors, who fought among themselves until the last five still standing agreed to stop and join Cadmus in founding the city. Cadmus married Harmonia, the daughter of Mars and Venus, and all seemed set fair for him. But Ovid goes on ‘Yet a man should await his final day, and no one be called happy until he dies and his last rites are paid.’
I have read over the Specimen of the Principles concerning Religion and Morality, said to be maintained in a book lately published, entitled, A Treatise of Human Nature; being an attempt to introduce the experimental method of reasoning into moral subjects. I have also read over what is called the Sum of the Charge. Which papers, as you inform me, have been industriously spread about, and were put into your hands some few days ago.
I was persuaded that the clamour of scepticism, atheism, etc., had been so often employed by the worst of men against the best, that it had now lost all its influence; and should never have thought of making any remarks on these maimed excerpts, if you had not laid your commands on me, as a piece of common justice to the author, and for undeceiving some well-meaning people, on whom it seems the enormous charge has made impression.
I shall insert the accusation at full length, and then go regularly through what is called the Sum of the Charge; because it is intended, I suppose, to contain the substance of the whole. I shall also take notice of the Specimen as I go along.
Specimen of the Principles concerning Religion and Morality, etc.
The author puts on his title-page (Vol. 1) a passage of Tacitus to this purpose: ‘Rare happiness of our times, that you may think as you will, and speak as you think.
I have quitted La Fleche two days after receiving yours. I am now at Tours in my way to Paris, where I do not intend to stay any considerable time, unless some extraordinary accident intervene: So that I propose to see you in London about 3 or 4 weeks hence. You may be sure that this meeting will afford me a very great satisfaction, and it is with the utmost concern I hear you will leave the city a little after my arrival. Nothing can be more useful and agreeable than to have an intimate friend with one at any critical time of life such as that which I am just going to enter upon. And I must certainly esteem it a great loss to be deprived of your advice, as well in points that regard my conduct and behaviour, as in those of criticism and learning. I can assure you I have great confidence in your judgement even in this last particular, though the state of your health and business have never permitted you to be a regular student, nor to apply yourself to any part of learning in a methodical manner, without which it is almost impossible to make any mighty progress. I shall submit all my performances to your examination, and to make you enter into them more easily, I desire of you, if you have leisure, to read once over La Recherche de la Verité of Pere Malebranche, the Principles of Human Knowledge by Dr Berkeley, some of the more metaphysical articles of Bayle's Dictionary, such as those [of] Zeno and Spinoza.
1 All our reasonings concerning matter of fact are founded on a species of analogy, which leads us to expect from any cause the same events, which we have observed to result from similar causes. Where the causes are entirely similar, the analogy is perfect, and the inference, drawn from it, is regarded as certain and conclusive: Nor does any man ever entertain a doubt, where he sees a piece of iron, that it will have weight and cohesion of parts; as in all other instances, which have ever fallen under his observation. But where the objects have not so exact a similarity, the analogy is less perfect, and the inference is less conclusive; though still it has some force, in proportion to the degree of similarity and resemblance. The anatomical observations, formed upon one animal, are, by this species of reasoning, extended to all animals; and it is certain, that when the circulation of the blood, for instance, is clearly proved to have place in one creature, as a frog, or fish, it forms a strong presumption, that the same principle has place in all. These analogical observations may be carried farther, even to this science, of which we are now treating; and any theory, by which we explain the operations of the understanding, or the origin and connexion of the passions in man, will acquire additional authority, if we find, that the same theory is requisite to explain the same phenomena in all other animals.
It is difficult for a man to speak long of himself without vanity; therefore, I shall be short. It may be thought an instance of vanity that I pretend at all to write my life; but this narrative shall contain little more than the history of my writings; as, indeed, almost all my life has been spent in literary pursuits and occupations. The first success of most of my writings was not such as to be an object of vanity.
I was born the 26th of April 1711, old style, at Edinburgh. I was of a good family, both by father and mother: my father's family is a branch of the Earl of Home's, or Hume's; and my ancestors had been proprietors of the estate, which my brother possesses, for several generations. My mother was daughter of Sir David Falconer, President of the College of Justice: the title of Lord Halkerton came by succession to her brother.
My family, however, was not rich, and being myself a younger brother, my patrimony, according to the mode of my country, was of course very slender. My father, who passed for a man of parts, died when I was an infant, leaving me, with an elder brother and a sister, under the care of our mother, a woman of singular merit, who, though young and handsome, devoted herself entirely to the rearing and educating of her children.
1 There is, in Dr. Tillotson's writings, an argument against the real presence, which is as concise, and elegant, and strong as any argument can possibly be supposed against a doctrine, so little worthy of a serious refutation. It is acknowledged on all hands, says that learned prelate, that the authority, either of the scripture or of tradition, is founded merely in the testimony of the Apostles, who were eye-witnesses to those miracles of our Saviour, by which he proved his divine mission. Our evidence, then, for, the truth of the Christian religion is less than the evidence for the truth of our senses; because, even in the first authors of our religion, it was no greater; and it is evident it must diminish in passing from them to their disciples; nor can any one rest such confidence in their testimony, as in the immediate object of his senses. But a weaker evidence can never destroy a stronger; and therefore, were the doctrine of the real presence ever so clearly revealed in scripture, it were directly contrary to the rules of just reasoning to give our assent to it. It contradicts sense, though both the scripture and tradition, on which it is supposed to be built, carry not such evidence with them as sense; when they are considered merely as external evidences, and are not brought home to every one's breast, by the immediate operation of the Holy Spirit.
David Hume was born in Edinburgh in 1711, and, after a life lived in England and France as well as Scotland, died there in 1776, a wealthy and famous man. He had become Great Britain's pre-eminent man of letters, notorious for his philosophical works – especially for his critical writings on religion – and (ultimately) applauded for his historical study of England and its institutions. After having established himself as a writer, he enjoyed a successful diplomatic career in Paris and London during the 1760s, before retiring to spend his last years in the town of his birth. There he practised his culinary skills on his friends, in between receiving famous visitors from home and abroad. After his death the great political economist, Adam Smith, published a letter describing his last days, and portraying him as a second Socrates. The greatest architect of the day was commissioned to design a tomb to house his remains. Today, well over two hundred years later, the visitor to Edinburgh is greeted by historical society plaques showing the great man's various places of residence, not to mention a brand-new monumental traffic-hazard in the main street of the Old Town. A better example of a successful life is difficult to imagine.
However, in the middle years of that life, to the man actually living it, such a successful outcome must have been scarcely imaginable. In 1745, Hume's life must have seemed, to his own view, only the most qualified of successes.
Francis Bacon, Baron Verulam and Viscount St Albans (1561–1626)
The great glory of literature in this island, during the reign of James, was Lord Bacon. Most of his performances were composed in Latin; though he possessed neither the elegance of that, nor of his native tongue. If we consider the variety of talents displayed by this man; as a public speaker, a man of business, a wit, a courtier, a companion, an author, a philosopher; he is justly the object of great admiration. If we consider him merely as an author and philosopher, the light in which we view him at present, though very estimable, he was yet inferior to his contemporary Galileo, perhaps even to Kepler. Bacon pointed out at a distance the road to true philosophy: Galileo both pointed it out to others, and made himself considerable advances in it. The Englishman was ignorant of geometry: The Florentine revived that science, excelled in it, and was the first that applied it, together with experiment, to natural philosophy. The former rejected, with the most positive disdain, the system of Copernicus: The latter fortified it with new proofs, derived both from reason and the senses. Bacon's style is stiff and rigid: His wit, though often brilliant, is also often unnatural and far-fetched; and he seems to be the original of those pointed similes and long-spun allegories, which so much distinguish the English authors: Galileo is a lively and agreeable, though somewhat a prolix writer.
1 I was lately engaged in conversation with a friend who loves sceptical paradoxes; where, though he advanced many principles, of which I can by no means approve, yet as they seem to be curious, and to bear some relation to the chain of reasoning carried on throughout this enquiry, I shall here copy them from my memory as accurately as I can, in order to submit them to the judgment of the reader.
2 Our conversation began with my admiring the singular good fortune of philosophy, which, as it requires entire liberty above all other privileges, and chiefly flourishes from the free opposition of sentiments and argumentation, received its first birth in an age and country of freedom and toleration, and was never cramped, even in its most extravagant principles, by any creeds, concessions, or penal statutes. For, except the banishment of Protagoras, and the death of Socrates, which last event proceeded partly from other motives, there are scarcely any instances to be met with, in ancient history, of this bigoted jealousy, with which the present age is so much infested. Epicurus lived at Athens to an advanced age, in peace and tranquillity: Epicureans were even admitted to receive the sacerdotal character, and to officiate at the altar, in the most sacred rites of the established religion: And the public encouragement of pensions and salaries was afforded equally, by the wisest of all the Roman emperors, to the professors of every sect of philosophy.
1 It might reasonably be expected, in questions which have been canvassed and disputed with great eagerness, since the first origin of science, and philosophy, that the meaning of all the terms, at least, should have been agreed upon among the disputants; and our enquiries, in the course of two thousand years, been able to pass from words to the true and real subject of the controversy. For how easy may it seem to give exact definitions of the terms employed in reasoning, and make these definitions, not the mere sound of words, the object of future scrutiny and examination? But if we consider the matter more narrowly, we shall be apt to draw a quite opposite conclusion. From this circumstance alone, that a controversy has been long kept on foot, and remains still undecided, we may presume that there is some ambiguity in the expression, and that the disputants affix different ideas to the terms employed in the controversy. For as the faculties of the mind are supposed to be naturally alike in every individual; otherwise nothing could be more fruitless than to reason or dispute together; it were impossible, if men affix the same ideas to their terms, that they could so long form different opinions of the same subject; especially when they communicate their views, and each party turn themselves on all sides, in search of arguments which may give them the victory over their antagonists.