Chapter II.—Profane Authors Had No Means of Knowing the Truth.
For it was fit that they who wrote should themselves
have been eye-witnesses of those things concerning which they made
assertions, or should accurately have ascertained them from those who had
seen them; for they who write of things unascertained beat the air. For
what did it profit Homer to have composed the Trojan war, and to have
deceived many; or Hesiod, the register of the theogony of those whom he
calls gods; or Orpheus, the three hundred and sixty-five gods, whom in
the end of his life he rejects, maintaining in his precepts that there is
one God? What profit did the sphærography of the world’s circle
confer on Aratus, or those who held the same doctrine as he, except glory
among men? And not even that did they reap as they deserved. And what
truth did they utter? Or what good did their tragedies do to Euripides
and Sophocles, or the other tragedians? Or their comedies to Menander and
Aristophanes, and the other comedians? Or their histories to Herodotus and
Thucydides? Or the shrines638638 and the pillars of Hercules
to Pythagoras, or the Cynic philosophy to Diogenes? What good did it
do Epicurus to maintain that there is no providence; or Empedocles
to teach atheism; or Socrates to swear by the dog, and the goose,
and the plane-tree, and Æsculapius struck by lightning, and the
demons whom he invoked? And why did he willingly die? What reward, or of
what kind, did he expect to receive after death? What did Plato’s
system of culture profit him? Or what benefit did the rest of the
philosophers derive from their doctrines, not to enumerate the whole of
them, since they are numerous? But these things we say, for the purpose
of exhibiting their useless and godless opinions.