Contempt
Contempt is the cold emotion — not heat but a lowering of the gaze, the slight curl of the lip, the sense that something or someone has fallen beneath serious response. Where anger still believes the other can be reached, contempt has stopped believing it. Vela reads contempt as a primary emotion with a particular danger to it, distinct from the anger it cools into, and attends to what it costs both the one who feels it and the one it is aimed at.
Working definition · Cold disregard—the sense that something or someone is beneath serious response.
5055 passages · 1 Vela essay · in 1 cluster
Vela’s read on this emotion
Contempt is the most corrosive of the emotions Vela reads, and the reading does not soften that. Anger can clear the air; contempt poisons it slowly, because it has already decided the other does not merit the effort of being addressed. The writers worth following have read contempt as a verdict, and verdicts are the things relationships least survive.
The reading is densest where contempt has been organized against a group or turned against the self. The literature of stigma reads how contempt does its social work — the look that places a person below the line of full regard, aimed at the poor, the sick, the foreign, the queer. Erving Goffman's The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life maps the small social machinery through which standing is granted and withdrawn, which is the stage contempt performs on. The memoir of family harm holds the particular wound of a parent's contempt — worse, often, than a parent's anger, because contempt withdraws the relationship rather than engaging it. Self-contempt, the gaze turned inward, is the form chronic shame takes once it has built a settled stance toward its own bearer.
Contempt is not the same as anger, disgust, or hatred. Anger engages; contempt dismisses. Disgust recoils from contamination; contempt looks down from a height. Hatred is hot and attentive; contempt is cold and inattentive, which is part of why it wounds. The four overlap and the reading keeps them separate, because contempt's coldness is precisely the thing that distinguishes it.
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From Augustine: A New Biography (2005)
So two new classes of enemies were invented, and two old ones reconstructed. The old ones seemed familiar enough: the Jews and the heretics. Both were family members for Christianity, hated and feared as one hates those one knows too well. (Jews were now increasingly pushed outside the family and increasingly withdrew from any hint of association with Christianity, but that is another story.370) But now “the world” was also invented in a new sense: the world of temptations of the flesh and worldliness without religious overtones, a world that tempted by its seductions and its appeal to the senses.371 Where Christians had earlier hated the shows and games of Roman civil life at least in part for their association with Roman religion, now they could hate them for their own sake. Augustine in City of God is the poet of this hostility to the secular, building on what he found in scripture and early Christianity to be sure, but taking the opposition to new intensity. In Augustine’s world, even if every form of overtly religious opposition to Christianity were to be eliminated, “the world” would remain implacable and opposed. The narrative of triumph comes into its own accompanied by this notion of endless struggle against an enemy that will be surmounted only at the end of time. But the idea of religious opposition needed to survive, and so Augustine’s contemporaries created and increasingly relied on an artificial and convenient picture of non-Christian religion: hence the function of “paganism.” The greatest evolution occurred inside, in the way the church was organized and behaved. The establishment and maintenance of a church system that would achieve universality of doctrine and practice in a threatening world gave rise to a whole set of management techniques new to that period but profoundly influential in later centuries. The most fundamental is the reliance on standardized texts as vehicles of authority and discipline. Curiously enough, the Bible came last in this process of standardization.
From Fragments (7)
Aussi les vrais Grecs n'éprouvèrent-ils jamais le besoin de revenir, avec le digamma, à la barbarie des temps primitifs ; cette idée ne vint en effet qu'aux Latins, le jour où ils regrettèrent l'absence de cette lettre, pour leur propre langue ; ainsi que Quintilien, I, 4, p. 20, nous l'affirme : Des{unt) aliquœ nobis necessariœ lite- rœ, non quum grœca scribimus : (tum enim ab iisdem duas mutuamur) sed proprie in latinis, ut in his, seruiis et uulgiis seolicum digamma desideratur. Voilà où la manie de raffiner avait conduit les patri- ciens romains : non seulement à créer des monstruo- sités comme uniras (pr. ououlgous), mais encore, aveuglés par l'orgueil, plutôt que de revenir à la lettre c, avec laquelle leurs ancêtres avaient depuis longtemps remplacé le digamma, et de prononcer iiolgos, seriios, comme lé faisait encore le peuple, ils désiraient le digamma ! Mais l'empereur Claude eut beau le leur donner, cette lettre était si peu en harmonie avec le» — 74 — oreilles grecques et latines d'alors, qu'elle vécut juste autant que cet empereur. Le décret de Claude n'en créa pas moins un certain mouvement dignmmomane, qu'exas- péra pendant un certain temps la découverte des œu- vres de Corinne. Enfin, quand l'Empire fut devenu grec à Byzance, la passion du diganima universel s'assou- pit, au point qu'il n'en était plus question depuis des siècles, lorsque se produisit en Angleterre a ce queWolff regardait comme une sorte de rêve éclos par hasard, dans la cervelle de Bentley». A. Pierron, Ilom., II. I, p.C. Cet érudit entreprit la réhabilitation du digamma avec d'autant plus de conviction, que sous la forme du W cette lettre paraît foncièrement « anglaise». A cette cause d'erreur, il faut ajouter une certaine incapacité d'appré- cier les finesses de la prononciation grecque, qu'affirme pour Bentley et son école, la Préface d'un Callimaque édité à Londres en 1742. Dans ce document qui affecte les allures d'un manifeste littéraire, l'auteur, qui se rattache étroitement à Bentley en le qualifiant de cla- rissirnus, perspicassissimus... (v. ses notes, p. 9, 14, ...41), conclut en ces termes, au sujet de la question des esprits et des accents : cum vero apices istos adlinere jani consuetudo jubent^ omnesqiie libri typis excusi, paucissimis exceptis., eas habeant ; sic ponamus, si vis, ut cum genuina syllnbàrum quan- titate semper conspirent ; vel si qiiid habent suavita- tis et pulchritiidinis scilicet, locis, r/iios nunc possi- dent, hœre/e patianiur ; contemnnnuis tantuni, duni legimus prosaicos scriptores (Callimaciii..., p. XVI).
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
And instead of removing any difficulties it creates greater difficulties in their place. There are certain contradictions which no ingenuity can solve. If "the great unknown" was the creative artist of his ideal Christ, and the inventor of those sublime discourses, the like of which were never heard before or since, he must have been a mightier genius than Dante or Shakespeare, yea greater than his own hero, that is greater than the greatest: this is a psychological impossibility and a logical absurdity. Moreover, if he was not John and yet wanted to be known as John, he was a deceiver and a liar:1095 this is a moral impossibility. The case of Plato is very different, and his relation to Socrates is generally understood. The Synoptic Gospels are anonymous, but do not deceive the reader. Luke and the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews honestly make themselves known as mere disciples of the apostles. The real parallel would be the apocryphal Gospels and the pseudo-Clementine productions, where the fraud is unmistakable, but the contents are so far below the fourth Gospel that a comparison is out of the question. Literary fictions were not uncommon in the ancient church, but men had common sense and moral sense then as well is now to distinguish between fact and fiction, truth and lie. It is simply incredible that the ancient church should have been duped into a unanimous acceptance of such an important book as the work of the beloved disciple almost from the very date of his death, and that the whole Christian church, Greek, Latin, Protestant, including an innumerable army of scholars, should have been under a radical delusion for eighteen hundred years, mistaking a Gnostic dream for the genuine history of the Saviour of mankind, and drinking the water of life from the muddy source of fraud.1096 In the meantime the fourth Gospel continues and will continue to shine, like the sun in heaven, its own best evidence, and will shine all the brighter when the clouds, great and small, shall have passed away. § 85. The Acts of the Apostles. Comp. § 82. 1. Critical Treatises. M. Schneckenburger: Zweck der Apostelgeschichte. Bern, 1841. Schwanbeck: Quellen der Ap. Gesch. Darmstadt, 1847. Ed. Zeller: Contents and Origin of the Acts of the Apostles. Stuttg., 1854; trsl. by Jos. Dare, 1875–76, London, 2 vols. Lekebusch: Composition u. Entstehung der Ap. Gesch. Gotha, 1854. Klostermann: Vindiciae Lucancae. Göttingen, 1866. Arthur König (R. C.): Die Aechtheit der Ap. Gesch. Breslau, 1867. J. R. Oertel: Paulus in der Ap. Gesch. Der histor. Char. dieser Schrift, etc. Halle, 1868. J. B. Lightfoot: Illustrations of the Acts from recent Discoveries, in the "Contemporary Review" for May, 1878, pp. 288–296. Dean Howson: Bohlen Lectures on the Evidential Value of the Acts of the Apostles, delivered in Philadelphia, 1880. London and New York, 1880. Friedr. Zimmer: Galaterbrief und Apostelgeschichte. Hildburghausen, 1882.
From Fragments (7)
N'oublions pas de remarquer que pour émettre, à cette époque, de pareilles énormités, on gardait encore l'anonyme. Mais il faut croire que le terrain, en Angle- terre, était naturellement bien disposé ou fut bientôt préparé, car, en 1745, Rich. Dawes afficha « l'habitude » de se passer de ces esprits, de ces accents, apices istos, qui, pour lui, en présence du W anglais, étaient désor- mais inutiles (v. D'Orville, Animadv. in Charit. Aphrod. tom. II, Mb. II, 6, p. 191 102: Rirh. Dfnvesiiisin observ. Afiscel... p. /8.5... ex-Homero Od. ; *>'f^ rescribens ivOp(i')Trcu; èt/ôpY»', sive suo more iwiw'M^^fv....). Il est évident qu'après cela, il n'est mf^mo plus besoin de 1-lliade de Poine Knight pour autopiser le digamma vo aeolicum seu potius anglicum de Boissonade. Mais pendant que les hellénistes français s'en tiraient avec cette boutade, les Allemands qui, depuis le xviii^ siècle, sous les ordres de leurs libraires, se contentaient de reéditer plus ou moins fidèlement les éditions anglai- ses, finirent, à ce jeu, par attraper le digamma ; qui ne parait pas devoir les lâcher, avant que le stock des livres qu'il a contaminés, ne soit épuisé en librairie. En somme, pour apprécier l'harmonie de la langue grecque, et comprendre la barbarie du digamma, il faut des oreilles qui ne soient ni anglaises, ni allemandes, ni purement françaises : à moins qu'elles n'aient corrigé leur imperfection originelle, en entendant parler devrais Grecs, ou à défaut, des anciens colons grecs qui, bien que parlant aujourd'hui une autre langue, ont gardé pour la prononcer, les anciennes intonations de la lan- gue grecque. Tels sont les purs Gascons, auxquels nous allons demander de nous traduire, en leur dialecte, cette simple phrase : « Entends, Marie, que ton fils a cassé un œuf. » Seulement comme leur langue se chante plu- tôt qu'elle ne se parle, leur traduction n'aurait plus de sel , si nous ne la figurions pas de la manière suivante : tV ^ fy ^^ < ' VV il L ••i 'l »' • ' On le voit cette phrase a ses mots marqués des esprits et des accents grecs. La voici en orthographe du pays : AhoUy Maria, que tou Ml a coupai uh houèou. Ce qui nous sert à démontrer que l'esprit rude est l'aspiration avant, et l'esprit doux, l'aspiration après la lettre. Dans cette dernière position, raspiration paraît s'adoucir, parce qu'une partie de sa force est absorbée dans l'émission de la lettre qui suit. Tout cela n'a rien de commun avec le W anglais, qu'on s'accorde, bien à tort, à reconnaître comme l'équivalent du di- gamma. De plus, puisque Qiiintilien dit que, pour le — 76 —
From Augustine: A New Biography (2005)
And so begins a long, tiring shuffle. Each Caecilianist bishop is called by name, acknowledges his presence, and is in turn acknowledged by his Donatist rival. Most of the confrontations pass quietly, but outbursts happened. One Caecilianist is called and a Donatist named Januarius recognizes him. “It’s my diocese,” he says. “But he’s got nobody there,” the Caecilianist retorts. “It’s my diocese.” “But you’ve got nobody there, no church, no communicants.” “How many did you have before you forced your way in?” Petilian intervenes to complain. Four Caecilianist bishops lurk in various parts of Januarius’s diocese, planted to bulk up the numbers.467 Some went unchallenged as the other party acknowledged it was unrepresented in a given community; death and ill health were blamed for some absences; sometimes a Caecilianist was recognized as ex-Donatist. “That one was ours,” said Primian of one. “You should do as he did,” retorted Alypius. Other barbs punctuated the tedious routine: “I got to know him by the wrong he did me,” one Donatist says for the record of his Caecilianist townsman. Another Caecilianist adds, when his name is called, “If anybody called himself a Donatist in my town, he’d be stoned.” Or consider this snapshot: The clerk recited: “Severian, bishop of Ceramussa, I approved the mandatum and signed it at Carthage before the distinguished tribune and notary Marcellinus.” When that had been read, Severian said, “The diocese is all catholic.” Habetdeum, the deacon of [the Donatist] bishop Primian [of Carthage] said, “We have the elderly Adeodatus there.” Severian, bishop of the catholic church, said: “Show him.” Adeodatus, bishop, said, “Ceramussa near Milev468 is part of my people.” Severian, bishop of the catholic church, said, “The whole church there is catholic from the beginning. There were never Donatists there.” Adeodatus, bishop, said, “It’s part of my people. It was his violence that drove my clergy and priests away.” Severian, bishop of the catholic church, said: “He’s lying, as god is my witness.” Marcellinus, distinguished tribune and notary, said, “Let your holiness just say this clearly, whether there’s a bishop there now.” Adeodatus, bishop, said, “It’s part of my people, everything around it is mine. All of my people there have succumbed to the terror.” Severian, bishop of the catholic church, said: “He’s lying.”469 The Donatist Victor of Hippo Diarrhytus makes his point: “I’m here. Write it down whether Florentius recognizes me in person: he’s the one who had me thrown in jail awaiting execution for three years, in all my innocence.” This is a family quarrel. An overarching decorum and commonality of language and even grudging mutual respect mark the space in which they argue passionately. People have moved back and forth between the two communities, but these people on this day know no outside world, no third place to go.
From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)
2. The opposite extreme is a false Gentile Christianity, which may be called the Paganizing or Gnostic heresy. It is as radical and revolutionary as the other is contracted and reactionary. It violently breaks away from the past, while the Judaizing heresies tenaciously and stubbornly cling to it as permanently binding. It exaggerates the Pauline view of the distinction of Christianity from Judaism, sunders Christianity from its historical basis, resolves the real humanity of the Saviour into a Doketistic illusion, and perverts the freedom of the gospel into antinomian licentiousness. The author, or first representative of this baptized heathenism, according to the uniform testimony of Christian antiquity, is Simon Magus, who unquestionably adulterated Christianity with pagan ideas and practices, and gave himself out, in pantheistic style, for an emanation of God.863 Plain traces of this error appear in the later epistles of Paul (to the Colossians, to Timothy, and to Titus), the second epistle of Peter, the first two epistles of John, the epistle of Jude, and the messages of the Apocalypse to the seven churches. This heresy, in the second century, spread over the whole church, east and west, in the various schools of Gnosticism. 3. As attempts had already been made, before Christ, by Philo, by the Therapeutae and the Essenes, etc., to blend the Jewish religion with heathen philosophy, especially that of Pythagoras and Plato, so now, under the Christian name, there appeared confused combinations of these opposite systems, forming either a Paganizing Judaism, i.e., Gnostic Ebionism, or a Judaizing Paganism i.e., Ebionistic Gnosticism, according as the Jewish or the heathen element prevailed. This Syncretistic heresy was the caricature of John’s theology, which truly reconciled Jewish and Gentile Christianity in the highest conception of the person and work of Christ. The errors combated in the later books of the New Testament are almost all more or less of this mixed sort, and it is often doubtful whether they come from Judaism or from heathenism. They were usually shrouded in a shadowy mysticism and surrounded by the halo of a self-made ascetic holiness, but sometimes degenerated into the opposite extreme of antinomian licentiousness.
From Fragments (7)
2" Fr. * 41 de Sappho : "AtÔt col S'Ip-eÔev [xèv à-:rf;/bei:o çpsvT'içî'/jv èxl S"Av5p5ixéîav -ôty]. Héphestion, le seul qui nous ait transmis ce fragment, nous le donne comme anonyme. C'est pour cela que Bergk l'a marqué d'un astérisque ; néanmoins il l'attribue à Sappho par con- jecture, pour la seule raison que Maxime de Tyr cite Atthis comme une amie de Sappho: ce qui est loin d'être une preuve sérieuse. Car, même en supposant qn'AIcxis n'eiU pas fait sa comédie d'Atthis, celle raison aurait d'autant moins de valeur que, dans notre premier opus- cule (v. SF., p. 65, 66^, nous avons surpris Maxime de Tyr, au même chapitre XX1\', 9, en flagrant délit de falsification d'un texte dePlalon, dans rinlention mani- feste de rendre éminemment pornographique un passage qui dans l'original est bien loin de l'être. 3" Enfin, voici le fragment venu d'OiiIre-IIJiin. pour griser un de nos puhlicistes, au point de lui faire créer le « Cycle d'Atthis » : — ùo — I (na'.5avY;po'î[xav, ' 'Aiôt, TaXai t.ôtx 'yw îiOîV Tjyi y.)ap$((av) (Seypo T:ôX)Xaxt -c'jTâX^Ç ^X^-'^^» II wr7:(£p Y;5'cl>t£'.)a)ôixev' (£[ji.[X£vai) kq 6;a; IxiX', àv àp».- -f/wxaç (à)5à [xxAtî-'à'xa'Vî [ji,ÔA-a. III vOv 8à A'JSai(7'àv3o? xpéi:£ xaTç Y'jva-!- xeujtv, cj3{t£) xo-'àXiu) SJvTCç, à ^ps^sSaxTjXi;; 0£ Mr,va, IV Tzxnx Tr£p(p)éy_o'.î' as-cpa, f aoç S £Trf- c^ct 6xXa77av £•;: àX[xJpav, Icrw? xat -oX'javOé;j.st^ âpîjpa'.^. V à ^\k)ip7x xiXa /.é/uTa'., T£Ôi- X(a)t<Ji $£ ^pé3a xaT:aX'àv- 6pur/.a, y.as ;ji.£X(Xa)T3ç ôvOsjJtwSrjÇ. 1jlvxj6£[7' ' 'At6'5oç, t|jiip(o(i) Xéxc' âicoï (fpéva xap5i 'â|i.6iXT,Tai.... Traduction : « Je t'ai enlevée dans mes bras Atthis (c.-à-d. je t'ai adoptée comme mon enfant) ; toi-même jusqu'à ces jours, tant que la plus grande partie de tes affections se trouvait concentrée ici, identifiée à la divinité, tu étais comme une déesse dans son temple ; et pour toi comme pour la plus célèbre (des déesses) les chœurs de chant mêlés de danse ouvraient en haut la bouche toute grande. Maintenant va dans ton intérieur, éclipser les femmes de Lydie : comme après le coucher du soleil, Mena aux doigts de rose, éclipsant tous les astres, inonde de sa clarté les ondes salées de la mer et les innombrables fleurs des champs ; comme la rosée répand ses gouttes brillantes ; comme naissent les roses, les frêles cerfeuils sauvages et le mélilot fleuri. Pour moi, me rappelant combien Atthis aux doux yeux brillait par-dessus tout, avec une peine aiguisée de désir je sentirai mon cœur se soulever dans ma frêle poitrine.» — 56 — On voudra bien remarquer qu'à moins de changer arbitrairement le texte du manuscrit, ce fragment se révèle par des signes indiscutables, comme apparte- nant à une comédie. C'est pour cela que, pour recons- tituer ce qui lui manquait, nous sommes entré dans le sens et le ton du morceau, en parodiant le Fr. 33 de Sappho. D'ailleurs on va voir que ce texte n'a pas besoin de notre reconstitution pour s'affirmer comme éminemment parodique.
From An Anomalous Jew: Paul Among Jews, Greeks, and Romans (2016)
The Christ-believers who were persecuted under Nero in the mid-6os CE, including the probable executions of Peter and Paul,”* were probably motivated by complex local factors relating to religious scruples and social competition. It is certainly true that abstention from the imperial cult is not treated as the reason for the Neronian persecution in our sources. What we do know from Tacitus is that Christ-believers were despised for their “abomi- nations,” as a “mischievous superstition’; they were typical of things “hideous and shameful” that make their way to Rome and scorned for their “hatred of mankind.’”’ Of course, similar criticisms were said of many Eastern rites that had come to Rome, both Judaism and the Bacchus cultus,”* so why the focus on the Christ-believers in the Neronian persecution? Most likely, Christ-believers were singled out because they were regarded as committing national apostasy. By abandoning and critiquing Roman religion, they were perceived as religiously impious and politically disloyal.** Although competitive relationship to Caesar that would lead to revolt, but true in the sense that the Christian mission entails a call to another way of life, which will turn the world upside down. 22. Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. 2.25.5-8. 23. Tacitus, Ann. 15.44. 24. Compare Livy, Hist. 39.8-19, and Tacitus, Hist. 5.5. See discussion in Mikael Tellbe, Paul between Synagogue and State: Christians, Jews, and Civic Authorities in 1 Thessalonians, Romans, and Philippians (ConBNT 34; Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 2001), 26-35. 25. See Pliny, Ep. 10.96.2; Mart. Pol. 9.2; Tertullian, Apol. 24.1; 28.2. Note that Trajan’s reply to Pliny reveals a “don't ask, don't tell” policy about Christ-believers; if they are found, however, then they must be punished unless they recant by “worshiping our gods.” See John Granger Cook, Roman Attitudes toward the Christians (WUNT 261; Tubingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2010), 89-92, 290-93. Barclay (Pauline Churches, 359-61) notes that refusing to worship the Roman gods was the point of contention, and he regards failure to participate in the imperial cult as only one facet of the “atheism” of Christians. The problem I have is that the imperial cult—not the cults of Roma, the Capitoline triad, or local cults like Artemis, Serapis, or Diana—was always the litmus test of loyalty. So while the imperial cult might not necessarily have been the primary mode of idolatry critiqued by Paul, even so, Roman officials always insisted on devotion to the imperial cult as a way of unmasking the atheism of Christians, which implies the imperial cult’s prominence within Roman religion and its prominence among those critical of Roman religion. As N. T. Wright (Paul and the Faithfulness of God [COQG 4; London: SPCK, 2013], 1313-14) puts it: “Yes, the Christian refusal to worship the gods in general mattered; but Caesar was always the particular case.” Similar is Dorothea H.
From Fragments (7)
Et maintenant, après tout ce que nous venons de dire, il nous paraît bien établi que la vraie Sappho est complètement étrangère à Atthis, et que les fragments qui mentionnent TAttique personnifiée, sont mieux à leur place dans la comédie d'Alexis, intitulée Atthis, laquelle, du coup, rentre dans la catégorie des comé- dies antiféministes, qui mirent Sappho en scène. D'au- tant plus qu'il nous reste encore de cette comédie un fragment, caractérisant les intentions des comiques et de ceux qui les payaient, d'une manière si heureuse, qu'il ne peut manquer d'avoir inspiré le Don Basile du Figaro de Beaumarchais : Îtzz'.tx ;ji.5a)vCV ;j.a/.Xsv « Sur la lumière Jupiter amoncelle les nuages d'abord avec précaution, ensuite vite, vite ! » Voici maintenant un fragment qui s'impose encore à notre étude, parce qu'il s'y trouve le nom de Psappho : I t£8vx/.t;v 5'âBsXw; Wm. a '^z t{/'.!j§0|i.iva y.aT£A(T:7:avev II xéXXa, xa'i TéS'èéXvexîv)' ô>i;j.', (ô; §£?va xî'::(5v6a)'(ji.£V, ^i::!p', ^ [j.Ti 7 ii-AZ'.z iiz'jK'.'^r.xm. III Tx* S £Y<** ~i^^X'iJ.tiSz'ft.'xt' Xa''pot{T' ipyeo xa;jLs6év [i.t [Ji.va?j6', oTj6a vip wç {<i)s. iceS65XCii.r,v' JV arSs ix-Tj, àXXà ôétov 6tXu) . èjAvoîa', aî(ç àT:'j)X(£Oi'£ai (xwaira xoyoôj^ xai xaX' èzao^^oixev. — 60 — V Tr(6XXoiç yxp aT£9â)vciç l'wv y.at tjXXoiç ttaoxîwv PpéBwv, xai (ôpùffxwv) Trap'^ixoi irape9rjxa(o), VI -/.al ^(éXXaiç ÛTro)6'jp.tSaç àv6é(i)v £p(âT(ov) TCSTCor^ixixévaiç' VII y.at TcôXXatç âà (îdXatç p-ûpo) PpevOeîo) (3{aatXYîi)(») £^aX(t}^ao, x(a[jL ixot kyeXxo x6|jLaiç), VIII /.ai arpôiJLvaiç.... Tcôvdcxr^v] C'est une réminiscence du vers 15 de l'ode II ; et dès lors ce mot dénote une imitation de Sappho et non une œuvre originale . àSôAwç Wkisi] est une de ces allitérations plus familiè- res aux comiques qu'à Sappho ; àSéAw; fait d'ailleurs partie du bagage néologique des raiBî/.a. dont nous avons déjà parlé, voir aussi Théocrite XXIX, 32. '^laBc^iiva xaxeXfTnravev] Gomme la racine VA, ^I donne aux mots qui la renferment le sens de gratter, déchirer, réduire en miettes... il nous semble que ce n'est pas par elle qu'on expliquera la <!^0:^o\t.irr,' yXxlojox d'Hésychius ; à moins d'admettre l'influence égyptienne qui aurait intro- duit l'article égyptien tc devant certains mots grecs com- mençant par (j (cf. Thés. '}x^f5aç, ^J/ayetov, etc.). Nous aurions alors t]/iÇo[i.£vr, :r:Tt + (ji!^o|JL£vY] désignant les siffle- ments, ou les essoufllements de certains sanglots. Mais il ne faut pas oublier le sens de téter, sucer, déguster à petits coups qui découle du passage suivant de Stobée, Klor. 78, 5 : [/.aaTov ïi:\.T/p\x.birf A£jx<T) «j'I'Itja y*^*^'^^ • ^^^s lors il est permis de croire qu'en entendant ce mot, les Athéniens ne se privaient pas de songer à des allusions, que confirme le xaTeXîzzavev (aor. 2, avec gém. éol. du ■K due à la résolution de la diphtongue at) de XtTCx{v(>), employé par les comiques et par Aspasie (v. Athénéo — 61 ~ 219 G.), dans une pièce erotique avec le sens de mouil- ler, humecter. Dans la pièce de vers qui nous occupe, la préposition /,x-x en la localisant en bas donne à cette expression un sens équivoque.
From Fragments (7)
mais, en plus des distractions habituelles à cet auteur ou à ses copistes, il faut remarquer que, dans ce pas- sage, où il n'est question que de comédiens et de comédies, les personnages des auteurs lyriques, Sappho et Alcée, sont fort déplacés. Passe encore pour Alcée, parce que « Alcœi melici pœtœ nomen a comico non semper certe distinguere licet. » Et, en effet, il est certainement question ici du comique, car un peu plus loin Athénée, 687 D, ayant à parler du poète lyrique, le différencie nettement en ces termes : xal 6 ànipv.i'.x-.zi 8à r.pzziv, îà xal T.o'f.vj.':/.zq -c.t.tt,; Wr/.otXc^ è'ît;. Quant à Sappho, puisque c'est la pièce que nous étudions qui est visée, il faut bien reconnaître : ou bien que, de même qu'on a de tout temps « cousu des haillons à la pourpre des grands, » de même on a fini par glisser subrepticement des pastiches plus ou moins éoliens dans les œuvres de Sappho. Et cela datait de loin, puisque, d'après Athénée lui-même XIII, 599 C, Cha- méléon ou Hermésianax avaient fabriqué des strophes d'Anacréon (Fr. 14), adressées à Sappho ; et ce qui était un comble, une prétendue réponse de Sappho (Fr. 26), parlant du « noble vieillard de Téos » ! Ou bien qu'Athénée, qui n'en est pas à une confu- sion de noms près, a pris, pour la poétesse elle-même, le nom d'une des six comédies intitulées Sappho. A moins que de son temps il n'existât déjà, interpolée dans le bagage poétique de cette dernière, cette poésie dramatique dont parle Etienne de Byzance, en termes qui paraissent, jusqu'à un certain point, avoir entraîné la conviction de Welcker : « Non tamen omnem fidem denegat (Welcker Stephano (magistello Byzantino) narranti de carminé dramatico Sapphus, in quo Alcaeus, sive alius quis, cum puella amata sermones seruerit.» Bergk III, 99. Quoi qu'il en soit, comme personne avant nous, n'avait -66- soupçonné les rapports posthumes de Sappho avec le mouvement féministe d'Athènes, Welker ne pouvait pas encore deviner la portée des paroles d'Etienne de Byzance ; tandis qu'avec la même ignorance forcée, et un parti-pris diamétralement opposé aux opinions de AVeIcker, Bergk, à défaut de preuves, essayait du mépris pour annihiler le Byzantin et son témoignage. Mais dorénavant il sera impossible de ne pas attribuer aux paroles d'Etienne de Byzance l'importance qu'elles méritent : elles constitueront désormais une nouvelle preuve formelle de l'intrusion des parodies dans les œuvres de Sappho. Nous ne pensons pas, en eflet, qu'il puisse venir à l'idée de quelqu'un, de soutenir sérieu- sement que notre poétesse avait réellement composé une tragédie, une comédie, ou même un dialogue dra- matique quelconque : attendu que, dans cette hypothèse, elle aurait, de beaucoup trop, devancé l'époque où vit le jour, pour la première fois, ce genre de productions poétiques. De même la confusion que nous venons de signaler dans Athénée, est pour notre point de vue éminemment suggestive.
From Sense and Sensibility (1811)
“My _protégé_, as you call him, is a sensible man; and sense will always have attractions for me. Yes, Marianne, even in a man between thirty and forty. He has seen a great deal of the world; has been abroad, has read, and has a thinking mind. I have found him capable of giving me much information on various subjects; and he has always answered my inquiries with readiness of good-breeding and good nature.” “That is to say,” cried Marianne contemptuously, “he has told you, that in the East Indies the climate is hot, and the mosquitoes are troublesome.” “He _would_ have told me so, I doubt not, had I made any such inquiries, but they happened to be points on which I had been previously informed.” “Perhaps,” said Willoughby, “his observations may have extended to the existence of nabobs, gold mohrs, and palanquins.” “I may venture to say that _his_ observations have stretched much further than _your_ candour. But why should you dislike him?” “I do not dislike him. I consider him, on the contrary, as a very respectable man, who has every body’s good word, and nobody’s notice; who has more money than he can spend, more time than he knows how to employ, and two new coats every year.” “Add to which,” cried Marianne, “that he has neither genius, taste, nor spirit. That his understanding has no brilliancy, his feelings no ardour, and his voice no expression.” “You decide on his imperfections so much in the mass,” replied Elinor, “and so much on the strength of your own imagination, that the commendation _I_ am able to give of him is comparatively cold and insipid. I can only pronounce him to be a sensible man, well-bred, well-informed, of gentle address, and, I believe, possessing an amiable heart.” “Miss Dashwood,” cried Willoughby, “you are now using me unkindly. You are endeavouring to disarm me by reason, and to convince me against my will. But it will not do. You shall find me as stubborn as you can be artful. I have three unanswerable reasons for disliking Colonel Brandon; he threatened me with rain when I wanted it to be fine; he has found fault with the hanging of my curricle, and I cannot persuade him to buy my brown mare. If it will be any satisfaction to you, however, to be told, that I believe his character to be in other respects irreproachable, I am ready to confess it. And in return for an acknowledgment, which must give me some pain, you cannot deny me the privilege of disliking him as much as ever.” CHAPTER XI.
From An Anomalous Jew: Paul Among Jews, Greeks, and Romans (2016)
And do not become associates of theirs.”°° Ac- cording to Acts, some Palestinian Jews considered it unlawful for a Jew to enter a Gentile’s house and eat with the residents there, a view that persisted in the Jerusalem church.*” The Qumran scrolls strictly forbid a member of the community from accepting food from a Gentile.** Tacitus writes about the Jews, with his usual contempt for them, that “they sit apart at meals.”*” Several passages in the Mishnah assume the uncleanness of Gentiles and their living quarters.°° Now that is not to say that a refusal to share meals with non-Jews was uniform and unanimous. Many Jews believed that they were still able to par- ticipate in the social fabric of the Greco-Roman world without necessarily compromising their religious beliefs. Jews did dine with Gentiles under cer- tain conditions.®’ The Mishanic tractate ‘Abodah Zarah (idolatry) assumes interaction with Gentiles and seeks to define the legitimate context for such association.®* Furthermore, proselytes did not appear in Jewish communities ex nihilo but were drawn in through an extended period of socialization and interaction, which in the ancient world required sharing meals together. So Tessa Rajak is corrected to conclude, “It is not inevitable that special dietary laws compel people to eat away from others. ... All sorts of arrangements are feasible, where there is a social reason to make them.”®* Markus Bockmueh] lists the primary options open to Torah-observant Jews regarding table fellowship with Gentiles: 56. Jub. 22.16; cf. Josephus, Ant. 13.245; Ep. Arist. 142. 57. Acts 10:28; 11:1-3. 58. 4Q394 frags. 3-7. 59. Tacitus, Hist. 5.5.2; cf. Diodorus, Bib. Hist. 34.1.1-2; Philostratus, Vit. Ap. 33. 60. m. Mak. 2.3; m. ’Ohal. 18.7. 61. Tob 1:11; Dan 1:3-17; Jdt 10:5; 12:17-19; Ep. Arist. 172-86; Josephus, Ag. Ap. 2.174, 282; War 2.461-63; Jos. and Asen. 20.8; Cf. Sanders, “Jewish Association with Gentiles.” 170-88; Dunn, Jesus, Paul, and the Law, 137-48; Alan Segal, Paul the Convert: The Apostolate and Apostasy of Saul the Pharisee (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 230-33; Tomson, Paul and the Jewish Law, 230-36; Bockmuehl, Jewish Law, 56-61; Zetterholm, Antioch, 151-56. 62. See m. ‘Abod. Zar. 4.6; 5.5; m. Ber. 7.1. 63. Tess Rajak, “The Jewish Community and Its Boundaries,’ in The Jews among Pagans and Christians in the Roman Empire, ed. J. Lieu, J. North, and T. Rajak (London: Routledge, 1992), 18. 188 The Incident at Antioch (Gal 2:11-14): The Beginnings of Paulinism 1. Refuse all table fellowship with Gentiles and refuse to enter a Gentile house. 2. Invite Gentiles to their house and prepare a Jewish meal. 3. Take their own food to a Gentile’s house. Dine with Gentiles on the explicit or implicit understanding that food they would eat was neither prohibited in the Torah nor tainted with idolatry.
From The City of God
Chapter 13. --That the Romans Should Have Understood that Gods Who Desired to Be Worshipped in Licentious Entertainments Were Unworthy of Divine Honor. But Scipio, were he alive, would possibly reply:"How could we attach a penalty to that which the gods themselves have consecrated? For the theatrical entertainments in which such things are said, and acted, and performed, were introduced into Roman society by the gods, who ordered that they should be dedicated and exhibited in their honor. "But was not this, then, the plainest proof that they were no true gods, nor in any respect worthy of receiving divine honours from the republic? Suppose they had required that in their honor the citizens of Rome should be held up to ridicule, every Roman would have resented the hateful proposal. How then, I would ask, can they be esteemed worthy of worship, when they propose that their own crimes be used as material for celebrating their praises? Does not this artifice expose them, and prove that they are detestable devils? Thus the Romans, though they were superstitious enough to serve as gods those who made no secret of their desire to be worshipped in licentious plays, yet had sufficient regard to their hereditary dignity and virtue, to prompt them to refuse to players any such rewards as the Greeks accorded them. On this point we have this testimony of Scipio, recorded in Cicero:"They [the Romans] considered comedy and all theatrical performances as disgraceful, and therefore not only debarred players from offices and honors open to ordinary citizens, but also decreed that their names should be branded by the censor, and erased from the roll of their tribe. "An excellent decree, and another testimony to the sagacity of Rome; but I could wish their prudence had been more thorough-going and consistent. For when I hear that if any Roman citizen chose the stage as his profession, he not only closed to himself every laudable career, but even became an outcast from his own tribe, I cannot but exclaim: This is the true Roman spirit, this is worthy of a state jealous of its reputation. But then some one interrupts my rapture, by inquiring with what consistency players are debarred from all honors, while plays are counted among the honors due to the gods? For a long while the virtue of Rome was uncontaminated by theatrical exhibitions; [104] and if they had been adopted for the sake of gratifying the taste of the citizens, they would have been introduced hand in hand with the relaxation of manners. But the fact is, that it was the gods who demanded that they should be exhibited to gratify them. With what justice, then, is the player excommunicated by whom God is worshipped? On what pretext can you at once adore him who exacts, and brand him who acts these plays? This, then, is the controversy in which the Greeks and Romans are engaged. The Greeks think they justly honor players, because they worship the gods who demand plays; the Romans, on the other hand, do not suffer an actor to disgrace by his name his own plebeian tribe, far less the senatorial order. And the whole of this discussion may be summed up in the following syllogism. The Greeks give us the major premise:If such gods are to be worshipped, then certainly such men may be honored. The Romans add the minor:But such men must by no means be honoured. The Christians draw the conclusion:Therefore such gods must by no means be worshipped.
From Sense and Sensibility (1811)
“There now,” said Miss Steele, affectedly simpering, “everybody laughs at me so about the Doctor, and I cannot think why. My cousins say they are sure I have made a conquest; but for my part I declare I never think about him from one hour’s end to another. ‘Lord! here comes your beau, Nancy,’ my cousin said t’other day, when she saw him crossing the street to the house. My beau, indeed! said I—I cannot think who you mean. The Doctor is no beau of mine.” “Aye, aye, that is very pretty talking—but it won’t do—the Doctor is the man, I see.” “No, indeed!” replied her cousin, with affected earnestness, “and I beg you will contradict it, if you ever hear it talked of.” Mrs. Jennings directly gave her the gratifying assurance that she certainly would _not_, and Miss Steele was made completely happy. “I suppose you will go and stay with your brother and sister, Miss Dashwood, when they come to town,” said Lucy, returning, after a cessation of hostile hints, to the charge. “No, I do not think we shall.” “Oh, yes, I dare say you will.” Elinor would not humour her by farther opposition. “What a charming thing it is that Mrs. Dashwood can spare you both for so long a time together!” “Long a time, indeed!” interposed Mrs. Jennings. “Why, their visit is but just begun!” Lucy was silenced. “I am sorry we cannot see your sister, Miss Dashwood,” said Miss Steele. “I am sorry she is not well—” for Marianne had left the room on their arrival. “You are very good. My sister will be equally sorry to miss the pleasure of seeing you; but she has been very much plagued lately with nervous head-aches, which make her unfit for company or conversation.” “Oh, dear, that is a great pity! but such old friends as Lucy and me!—I think she might see _us;_ and I am sure we would not speak a word.” Elinor, with great civility, declined the proposal. Her sister was perhaps laid down upon the bed, or in her dressing gown, and therefore not able to come to them. “Oh, if that’s all,” cried Miss Steele, “we can just as well go and see _her_.” Elinor began to find this impertinence too much for her temper; but she was saved the trouble of checking it, by Lucy’s sharp reprimand, which now, as on many occasions, though it did not give much sweetness to the manners of one sister, was of advantage in governing those of the other. CHAPTER XXXIII. After some opposition, Marianne yielded to her sister’s entreaties, and consented to go out with her and Mrs. Jennings one morning for half an hour. She expressly conditioned, however, for paying no visits, and would do no more than accompany them to Gray’s in Sackville Street, where Elinor was carrying on a negotiation for the exchange of a few old-fashioned jewels of her mother.
From Sense and Sensibility (1811)
He addressed her with easy civility, and twisted his head into a bow which assured her as plainly as words could have done, that he was exactly the coxcomb she had heard him described to be by Lucy. Happy had it been for her, if her regard for Edward had depended less on his own merit, than on the merit of his nearest relations! For then his brother’s bow must have given the finishing stroke to what the ill-humour of his mother and sister would have begun. But while she wondered at the difference of the two young men, she did not find that the emptiness and conceit of the one, put her out of all charity with the modesty and worth of the other. Why they _were_ different, Robert explained to her himself in the course of a quarter of an hour’s conversation; for, talking of his brother, and lamenting the extreme _gaucherie_ which he really believed kept him from mixing in proper society, he candidly and generously attributed it much less to any natural deficiency, than to the misfortune of a private education; while he himself, though probably without any particular, any material superiority by nature, merely from the advantage of a public school, was as well fitted to mix in the world as any other man. “Upon my soul,” he added, “I believe it is nothing more; and so I often tell my mother, when she is grieving about it. ‘My dear Madam,’ I always say to her, ‘you must make yourself easy. The evil is now irremediable, and it has been entirely your own doing. Why would you be persuaded by my uncle, Sir Robert, against your own judgment, to place Edward under private tuition, at the most critical time of his life? If you had only sent him to Westminster as well as myself, instead of sending him to Mr. Pratt’s, all this would have been prevented.’ This is the way in which I always consider the matter, and my mother is perfectly convinced of her error.” Elinor would not oppose his opinion, because, whatever might be her general estimation of the advantage of a public school, she could not think of Edward’s abode in Mr. Pratt’s family, with any satisfaction. “You reside in Devonshire, I think,”—was his next observation, “in a cottage near Dawlish.” Elinor set him right as to its situation; and it seemed rather surprising to him that anybody could live in Devonshire, without living near Dawlish. He bestowed his hearty approbation however on their species of house.
From Sense and Sensibility (1811)
Colonel Brandon’s partiality for Marianne, which had so early been discovered by his friends, now first became perceptible to Elinor, when it ceased to be noticed by them. Their attention and wit were drawn off to his more fortunate rival; and the raillery which the other had incurred before any partiality arose, was removed when his feelings began really to call for the ridicule so justly annexed to sensibility. Elinor was obliged, though unwillingly, to believe that the sentiments which Mrs. Jennings had assigned him for her own satisfaction, were now actually excited by her sister; and that however a general resemblance of disposition between the parties might forward the affection of Mr. Willoughby, an equally striking opposition of character was no hindrance to the regard of Colonel Brandon. She saw it with concern; for what could a silent man of five and thirty hope, when opposed to a very lively one of five and twenty? and as she could not even wish him successful, she heartily wished him indifferent. She liked him—in spite of his gravity and reserve, she beheld in him an object of interest. His manners, though serious, were mild; and his reserve appeared rather the result of some oppression of spirits than of any natural gloominess of temper. Sir John had dropped hints of past injuries and disappointments, which justified her belief of his being an unfortunate man, and she regarded him with respect and compassion. Perhaps she pitied and esteemed him the more because he was slighted by Willoughby and Marianne, who, prejudiced against him for being neither lively nor young, seemed resolved to undervalue his merits. “Brandon is just the kind of man,” said Willoughby one day, when they were talking of him together, “whom every body speaks well of, and nobody cares about; whom all are delighted to see, and nobody remembers to talk to.” “That is exactly what I think of him,” cried Marianne. “Do not boast of it, however,” said Elinor, “for it is injustice in both of you. He is highly esteemed by all the family at the park, and I never see him myself without taking pains to converse with him.” “That he is patronised by _you_,” replied Willoughby, “is certainly in his favour; but as for the esteem of the others, it is a reproach in itself. Who would submit to the indignity of being approved by such a woman as Lady Middleton and Mrs. Jennings, that could command the indifference of any body else?” “But perhaps the abuse of such people as yourself and Marianne will make amends for the regard of Lady Middleton and her mother. If their praise is censure, your censure may be praise, for they are not more undiscerning, than you are prejudiced and unjust.” “In defence of your _protégé_ you can even be saucy.”
From Augustine: Philosopher and Saint (2005)
56 Lecture 12: The City of God • This provides Augustine with a philosophical analysis of the nature of paganism. Paganism is not just belief in many gods (for Christians too believe in many immortal beings: the angels, who are just like what pagans call gods). Paganism is the inward worship of many gods, i.e., seeking one’s ultimate happiness from them. • This means that the interesting challenges Augustine must face are from non-Christians who seek their happiness from the one Supreme God, i.e., Platonists and Jews. • The Platonists (in the City of God as in the Confessions) are blamed for their intellectual pride, their participation in pagan worship, and their refusal to embrace the humility of Christ (cf. books 8–10). • Augustine blames the Jews too for not believing in Christ, but he also retells their history in the Old Testament as signifying the eternal life brought by Christ (in books 15–18). The Jews of the Old Testament were the primary members of the City of God at that time. The Roman virtue so admired by the pagans consisted of the lust for domination and the desire for praise or earthly glory (5:12–20)—that was the common love that united Rome as “the capital of the Earthly City” (15:5). The peace of the Earthly City (City of God, book 19): • Peace is the ultimate goal of war, of all politics, indeed of all life (19:10–13): the ordered harmony of body and soul and of mind with mind. • ConÀ ict, wars, and violence inevitably arise in the Earthly City because it is a community in which everybody loves private goods that cannot be shared (15:3–5), as opposed to loving God, who can be shared by all with no loss to any. • The heavenly city seeks the peace of the Earthly City as a real but not ultimate good, promoting “the compromise of human wills concerning things pertaining to this mortal life” (19:17). Hence Christians are good citizens. • The City of God is a sojourner in its pilgrimage on earth, seeking eternal peace, being happy in its hope, not in present reality (19:16).
From An Anomalous Jew: Paul Among Jews, Greeks, and Romans (2016)
94. See Tomson, Paul and the Jewish Law, 230. 198 The Incident at Antioch (Gal 2:11-14): The Beginnings of Paulinism The designation oi x mepttopijc is used in Acts to describe Jewish Christ- believers in favor of circumcising Christ-believing Gentiles (Acts 10:45; 11:2). As such, we need to integrate into our reconstruction the fact that one of the opposing parties in Antioch was not called “those of the clean food” but “those of the circumcision.’”° In sum, the presupposition for the shared meals between Jewish and Gen- tile believers in Antioch was that Messiah and Spirit were determinative for their identity and unity, not Torah. The delegation from James observed the open fellowship between Christ-believing Jews and Gentiles, understood its implication for the perceptions of Jewish Christ-believers before other Jews, and argued that Jewish Christ-believers must withdraw from fellowship unless the Gentiles completely judaized, that is, converted to Judaism and followed the Torah.*° Mark Nanos comments, “The ones advocating proselyte conver- sion of these Gentiles thus objected to circumventing the place of this rite to identify these Gentiles as full and equal members of this Jewish subgroup— which was how they were being identified at these meals, rather than as merely pagan guests.”*’ Bauckham is similar: “If it is because the Gentile Christians are Gentiles that the men from James have persuaded Peter not to eat with them, then eating with them would only be possible if they became Jews.””® Thus, Peter’s separation signified a denial of the equal status of Gentiles in the messianic community and represented a demand (implied or verbalized) that Gentiles would have to judaize (i-e., undergo circumcision) in order to attain that status.” 95. See Martyn (Galatians, 234): “In the context one might have expected to hear that Peter was afraid of ‘the food party”; Nanos (“What Was at Stake,” 303): “It should be noted that in this text Paul never mentions the food itself, and he does not identify those whom Peter fears as ‘the ones for Jewish diet’ or ‘for a more rigorous diet, not even, per Dunn, for example, for what might be described as ‘a more rigorous Noachide diet.” 96. See Esler, First Christians, 58-62; idem, Galatians, 137-38; Tomson, Paul and the Jew- ish Law, 227-30; Watson, Paul, Judaism, and the Gentiles, 107; de Boer, Galatians, 136; Moo, Galatians, 151. 97. Nanos, “What Was at Stake,” 301 (italics original). 98. Richard Bauckham, “James, Peter, and the Gentiles,” in The Missions of James, Peter, and Paul: Tensions in Early Christianity, ed. B. Chilton and C. Evans (Leiden: Brill, 2004), 126 (italics original). 99. See Zetterholm (Antioch, 162): “In practice, the explicit demand for separation of the community would soon, of course, function as an implicit demand on the Jesus-believing Gentiles formally to become Jews” (italics original). 199 AN ANOMALOUS JEW Why Did Paul Object to Cephas’s Actions? Paul, it seems, did not agree with this Realpolitik of James and with Peter's compliance with it.
From Sense and Sensibility (1811)
The immediate advantage to herself was by no means inconsiderable, for it supplied her with endless jokes against them both. At the park she laughed at the colonel, and in the cottage at Marianne. To the former her raillery was probably, as far as it regarded only himself, perfectly indifferent; but to the latter it was at first incomprehensible; and when its object was understood, she hardly knew whether most to laugh at its absurdity, or censure its impertinence, for she considered it as an unfeeling reflection on the colonel’s advanced years, and on his forlorn condition as an old bachelor. Mrs. Dashwood, who could not think a man five years younger than herself, so exceedingly ancient as he appeared to the youthful fancy of her daughter, ventured to clear Mrs. Jennings from the probability of wishing to throw ridicule on his age. “But at least, Mama, you cannot deny the absurdity of the accusation, though you may not think it intentionally ill-natured. Colonel Brandon is certainly younger than Mrs. Jennings, but he is old enough to be _my_ father; and if he were ever animated enough to be in love, must have long outlived every sensation of the kind. It is too ridiculous! When is a man to be safe from such wit, if age and infirmity will not protect him?” “Infirmity!” said Elinor, “do you call Colonel Brandon infirm? I can easily suppose that his age may appear much greater to you than to my mother; but you can hardly deceive yourself as to his having the use of his limbs!” “Did not you hear him complain of the rheumatism? and is not that the commonest infirmity of declining life?” “My dearest child,” said her mother, laughing, “at this rate you must be in continual terror of _my_ decay; and it must seem to you a miracle that my life has been extended to the advanced age of forty.” “Mama, you are not doing me justice. I know very well that Colonel Brandon is not old enough to make his friends yet apprehensive of losing him in the course of nature. He may live twenty years longer. But thirty-five has nothing to do with matrimony.” “Perhaps,” said Elinor, “thirty-five and seventeen had better not have any thing to do with matrimony together. But if there should by any chance happen to be a woman who is single at seven and twenty, I should not think Colonel Brandon’s being thirty-five any objection to his marrying _her_.”
From The City of God
189 Lecture 9 Transcript—Public Religion in Imperial Rome (Books 6–7) did not evangelize. Over time, indeed, they became increasingly wary of engaging others, increasingly oblique to the everyday world, increasingly seeking to escape it. Some sought this escape through the quiet of leisured ease, or scholarly researches, as did the Middle Platonists and the scholars of the Library of Alexandria. Others became even more socially outcast, like the cynics. A story from the latter can serve to exemplify the philosopher’s overall attitude to worldly affairs. This is the story of the meeting that once took place, supposedly, between Alexander the Great and Diogenes the Cynic. Alexander, having just conquered the city of Corinth, went to find its most famous resident Diogenes, who was just then relaxing in the morning sunlight, seated—sitting down, right? Alexander, delighted and excited to meet the famous philosopher, asked him, looming above him, if there was anything he could do for him. Diogenes, looking up, replied simply, “Yes. Get out of my sunlight.” This is the basic view of ancient philosophy. The wise man withdraws from the noise of the world and turns to the peace of quiet retirement, whether the quiet life of a villa suitable for the rich, or the inner peace of the Stoic in the inner citadel of the soul. All this goes some way to explaining the fundamentally hostile and snobbish reaction of ancient philosophy when first confronted with Christianity, for they saw it as just another myth. As we’ve seen already, the civic republicans said Christianity was anti-worldly, but for the philosophers that was not their main complaint. Instead, and tellingly, they accused it of being just another superstitio, just another bad collection of myths, a bad form of wishful, magical thinking still stuck in the ignorance of childhood—of being, as it were, an infant’s idea of what divinity might be. The philosophers recoiled at Christianity’s vulgarity, its commonness, the way the religion breached social boundaries. Their leader had been a carpenter, his disciples common workingmen—fishermen, farmers, and the like. Since then, the Christians really hadn’t risen