[ p. 25 ]
THE account which we have given in the previous chapter of the nature of religion has not divested it of all difficulty. It is not claimed for that account that it provides us with an understanding of the religious experience of such a kind that we can regard it as simple and straightforward. On the contrary, it is a part of the theory there propounded that there is a paradox in religion from the outset. If we may recall the discussion of the last chapter, we argued that religion is the supreme instance and culminating point of the life of the spirit. In all its forms, however, the life of spirit depends upon an intuition or immediate and ultimate postulation of an “other” which is at the same time not simply other, of a beyond-the-self which is within the self and akin to it. A paradoxical character, therefore, attaches to every activity of mind and emerges with full force in religion, which is the highest and properly the most inclusive activity of the human spirit. We shall be mistaken if we suppose that the paradox and the difficulties to which it gives rise are peculiar to religion, for they exist in every level of spiritual experience. The theory of knowledge, the theory of ethical value and the theory of beauty, all have their fundamental problems which arise from the central situation—that of the self in contact with an object with which it can neither be wholly identical nor from which it can be wholly different. This paradox [ p. 26 ] manifests itself with peculiar intensity in the life of religion, precisely because religion is the most intense form of the spirit’s being.
The paradox to which we have referred comes to the surface in a theoretical form in the crucial problem of religious thought—the debate between transcendence and immanence. A philosophy which will justify the religious attitude must maintain both that God is immanent and that He is transcendent. On the one hand, a purely immanent deity turns ont, in the last resort, to be undistinguishable from ourselves, and hence to be no possible object of adoration and aspiration, while conversely, a purely transcendent Deity is one with whom communion would be impossible. Either conception, in the long run, must deprive worship of its justification and prayer of its reality. The same paradox is found in the central exercise of practical religion—the life of prayer. As we have seen, God must be recognized as the “ other than me”, or Icannot’pray, and yet itis of the essence of prayer in its nobler forms that we should recognize, at the same time, that only the inspiration of God makes prayer possible, and indeed, in the language of the greatest masters of devotion, that God prays in us. All the problems which have voxed theologians and puzzled the simply pious may in fact be traced to this fundamental paradox as their root. One further instance will be enough. Human freedom and divine grace are both needful affirmations for the religious man. If he abandons the former he becomes a mere puppet in the universe and, as such, incapablo of the religious attitude ; if he abandons the latter he declines from religion to moralism, and has denied his need for God. Theology and faith have swung backwards and forwards between these two poles, but have never finally rested at either. Both sides of the [ p. 27 ] apparent contradiction must be affirmed together, as they are without soruple by St. Paul: “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who worketh in you both to will and to do”.[1]
That there is an apparent paradox in religion has been recognized by many thinkers. Two passages from writers of a very different standpoint may be quoted. In a remarkable passage of the Opus Posthumum Kant has expressed it in terms of his moralistic conception of religion: “There is a Being in me, distinguished from myself as the cause of an effect wrought upon me, which freely—that is without being dependent on laws of nature in space and time—judges me within, justifying or condemning me ; and I as man am myself this being, and it is no substance external to me, and—what is most surprising of all—its causality is no natural necessity, but a determination of me to a free act.”[2] Of still wider range, though vaguer, is Professor A. N. Whitehead’s statement, of the apparent contradictions of the religious interpretation of the world. “ Religion is the vision of something which stands beyond, behind, and within, the passing flux of immediate things; something which is real, and yet waiting to be realized ; something which is a remote possibility, and yet the greatest of present facts; something which gives meaning to all that passes, and yet eludes apprehension; something whose possession is the final good, and yet is beyond all reach ; something which is the ultimate ideal, and the hopeless quest.”[3]
Only a superficial view would infer from this paradox which religion presents that it is illusory or mistaken. The contradictions which it seems to offer to our intellect [ p. 28 ] are not of the kind which allow us to dismiss the object as unreal. We have seen that they are not absent from other aspects of man’s spiritual life. They indicate rather that we are dealing with an object which is beyond our full comprehension. The antinomies arise from the necessary effort to formulate in terms of our finite thought and experience a Reality which transcends their capacity. Neither Kant nor Whitehead draws this sceptical conclusion. To them the paradox which is presented by the highest experience is a mark of the fact that in it we are in contact with reality in its most conerete form. Professor Whitehead, after the sentences just quoted, goes on to point out that religion is the one element in human experience which persistently shows an upward trend. To the fact of this upward trend we must now briefly turn our attention, with a view to discovering if there is any law or principle in religious progress and in the dovelopment of the conception of God.
The fact which Dr. Whitehead roundly asserts may possibly be questioned. We are not concerned here with the exclusive claim for religion as alone progressive among the elements of human experience, which perhaps would be difficult to defend, but with the question whether religious insight doos in fact show development, It may be pointed out truly that religion over a great part of the world has for long periods been stagnant or even regressive, and moreover that it has been at times the source of general stagnation and regression in civilization as a whole. It is indeed important to recognize this fact. Nothing could be more at variance with the evidence than to represent the history of man’s experience of God as a steady progress all along the line, or to suppose that every change in religious belief is good. Progress has not been steady ; it has taken place rather in spurts and has made [ p. 29 ] rapid advance in short creative epochs. This characteristic appears to become more pronounced as we rise in the scale of value, the higher religions being more definitely the creation of prophets, “ religious geniuses ”, and inspired persons, than thoso of the less civilized races. Still less can it be maintained that progress has been uniform. We are here confronted with a situation analogous to that in biological evolution. The picture of life as a whole pushing forward to new and more complex types of organism is a romantic imagination. In fact the line which Jeads from the amoeba to man is both wavy and thin. The forward movement of life is like a trickle of current passing through stagnant waters. So it is with the development of religion. We have to discern the progressive tendency amid the vast mass of religious humanity whose faith seems to contain no impulse to transcend itself and whose worship is but the repetition of the ceremonies and the words which their fathers have told them. But this statement does not represent the whole truth. Just as in biological evolution there are degeneration and parasitism so in the religious sphere the constant change which governs the thoughts of men may be in the direction of mechanical performance of sacred rites, of distorted conceptions of deity and, ultimately, towards magic. The fact of degeneration has perhaps not always been adequately recognized in studies of comparative religion.
The development of religion in the sense of progress towards a higher type of experience is reflected most plainly in the concepts of the divine. An interesting theoretical discussion might be started here on the question whether the ideas of God are predominantly cause or effect. Is the thought of the Divine Being determined by the ethical and spiritual experience of the [ p. 30 ] race or, on the contrary, is the experience determined by the idea? It will be readily admitted that the concepts of deity are coloured by the experience of the worshipping community, but it must also be conceded that the action is reciprocal. The idea of deity in turn determines the experience, moral and religious, of the worshippers. In tracing the development of religion we are concerned neither with a purely dialectical process which consists in the logical explication of concepts, nor with a merely emotional or pre-rational process which has no element of ideality ; we are concerned with a vital process which throughout contains all the elements of the life of the spirit—will, emotion, thought. We must keep this carefully in mind while we are discussing the evolution of the idea of God, lest our theory should be vitiated by the fallacy of intellectualism. It is in any case important to remember that the human race does not consist of professors.
The idea of the divine, when we consider it historieally, appears, at first sight, to offer us only a mass of bewildering confusion. There is, it would seem, scarcely any type of being or thing or aspect of the world which man has not at some time worshipped. Dr. W. P. Patterson, in his Gifford Lectures on the Nature of Religion, has attempted an exhaustive division of concepts of the divine or supernatural and has been compelled to arrange them into no less than eight main classes with many sub-divisions. Men have found their “ determiners of destiny” in inanimate objects, animals, ghosts, and gods. The vast mantle of religion covers Fetish-worship, Magic, Zoolatry, Spiritism, as well as the higher cults of great deities. Amid all this illusion and superstition we must look for the line of upward development and among the ferment of religious imagining seek the germ from [ p. 31 ] which the higher faiths were to spring. The clue to our problem is found when we observe that the one progressive line of religious evolution is connected with the application to the divine of the analogy of human life and experience. Anthropomorphism is the road along which the believing mind has travelled from superstition to noble creeds. The fact is not surprising. An anthropomorphic religion has at least taken the step of postulating that the power on which we depend is not lower than ourselves and has admitted at the same time the principle of progress. For man is the deepest mystery of the world. He alone has the potentiality of indefinite development. Inanimate objects remain as they are, the lower animals move within the strict boundaries which instinct and environment draw for them, but man is constantly moving towards an end which is not known to him and discovering possibilities which he had not suspected. “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.”[4]
Nevertheless, the proposition that anthropomorphism is the principle on which progress depends is at first sight somewhat startling, for it has been one of the reproaches against religious persons that they have made their gods after their own likeness. Doubtless, as the ancient critic remarked, if the oxen had gods they would be like oxen.[5] We cannot, moreover, forget that the burden of the accusation by reformers of religion has often been the absurdity of the anthropomorphism of current faith. The Hebrew prophets not less than Plato have joined in the protest against thinking that God is “even such an one as ourselves ”.
[ p. 32 ]
There are two motives at work in this protest in which prophets and philosophers concur. First is the obvious thought that the humanity which is taken as the analogue of the divine is not human nature at its highest. The gods are envisaged as all too human in their caprices and their short-sighted selfishness. We must not allow even inspired poets to persuade us that the gods are at war with one another or that they feel enmity and jealousy, nor dare we believe that they can be guilty of fraud and evil desires.[6] But the remedy for this malady of religion is not the desertion of the human analogy but the application of the noblest only of the attributes and activities of man to the Divine. “ Let us not then deem God inferior to human workmen, who, in proportion to their skill, finish and perfect their works, small as well as great, by one and the same art ; or that God, the wisest of beings, who is both willing and able to care, is like a lazy goodfor-nothing, or a coward, who turns his back upon labour and gives no thought to smaller and easier matters, but to the greater only.”[7]
But there is another motive in the protest against anthropomorphism which is of profound importance. Dr. Otto has brought out in his analysis of the “ numinous ” the element of “ creature feeling ” which he rightly holds to be a constituent of all genuine and developed religion. It is the same element as that which Schleiermacher isolated in his formula of “ absolute dependence”. When they contemplate the Divine the worshipper and the prophet know themselves to be in the presence of a Being which transcends the human categories even at their highest, in comparison with which all the thoughts and virtues of man are of no worth. The Other which is akin to man remains Other. Under the [ p. 33 ] overwhelming impression of the unlimited power and the impenetrable mystery of God, Job exclaims, “I have heard of thee by the hearing of the ear; but now mine eye seeth thee, wherefore I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes ”,[8] and Isaiah, confronted with the vision of the Lord arising “to shake mightily the carth ”, feels the nothingness of the human race! “ Cease ye from man, whose breath is in his nostrils ; for wherein is he to be accounted of ?”[9]
This latter cause of protest against anthropomorphism, however, never becomes in the great religious minds a complete rejection of the whole anthropomorphic method. Indeed it could not do so without undermining the whole structure of religion ; for, it is clear, once we have come to regard the Divine as “ wholly other,” utterly alien and beyond our ken, God has been reduced to a mere unknown quantity, a mere mystery which can inspire neither aspiration nor hope. It is not accurate to say that the determination of the divine nature by the values revealed in human life must necessarily lead to a conception of God which has lost every trace of transcendence, “otherness”, and mystery. On the contrary, the transcendent is implicit in the values themselves, and it is only a meagro and unimaginative conception of them which finds them to be complete and perfect here and now. The kinship of the divine and human, thought of as the Platonists have taught us, establishes the divine transcendence on a basis firmer than fear, Mr. R. C. Lodge has summed up the situation for us in words which, if somewhat technical, are pregnant with meaning: “God and man are essentially identical in nature, and it is by living the life of idealistic endeavour that the divinity within us flowers into a resemblance of the Divinity in [ p. 34 ] whom and through whom alone can all that is achieve meaning and value. Our value-sense thus penetrates beyond the accidental surroundings of human life, material, sensuous, emotional, and social-conventional, and comes to rest in the contemplation of an ideal experience, an experience which includes these elements, takes thom up into itself and transmutes them into its own meaning and value, but in origin and destiny transcends the empirical content which it includes and transforms.”[10]
Reflection on the nature of religious experience leads us to see that anthropomorphism must be for it not only legitimate but unavoidable. We have argued that religion arises out of an impulse and need of the human spirit which feels or intuits its continuity and kinship with a Reality beyond itself, and that this impulse seeks, as it would seem, two satisfactions in particular—for unity and substantiation of values, both in the face of divergent appearances. It follows, therefore, that the determination of the nature of this Other, the discovery of its character, or as religion itself would say, its revelation of itself, must proceed pari passu with man’s discovery of his own nature. It is only as man comes to know himself that he is able to catch a glimpse of the nature of the Other with whom he continually dwells, and by contact with whom he acquires self-knowledge. The two fundamental maxims of Greek and Hebrew aspiration respectively “Know thyself” and “Know God”, are not contradictory but complementary, for man knows God in so far as he truly knows himself and he knows himself through knowing God.
When we have recognized the necessity of anthropomorphism, and the fact that it affords the only line of advance for religious ideas, we must proceed to distinguish [ p. 35 ] between the lower and the higher types of anthropomorphism. It is against the lower anthropomorphism that prophets protest. At the root of polytheism is the thought of deity as a magnified and powerful, perhaps immortal, man; and the social order of the nation or tribe is projected into the unseen world, so that the pantheon is a reflection of the court of a Homeric king or the palace of an oriental despot. This simple-minded religious imagery persists even in religions which have, in principle, left it far behind, and Christianity both in its Protestant and Catholic forms can still show abundant traces of this rudimentary theology. Yet even in polytheism man appears to be seeking for some perfection in the beyond which is above the achievement of his ordinary state. As Sir Henry Jones has said, “The religious history of man gives no ground for believing that. he consciously worships a recognized imperfect God. For the moment even the god of the polytheist, whom at any instance he may toss aside, stands for the perfection he needs”.[11] The history of religion is crossed by a “ great divide ”. On the further side are those which have never emerged from the stage in which man in his empirical reality is the analogue of the gods ; on this side are those which have attained the conception that man is essentially spirit and that God must Himself be the supreme Spirit, to be worshipped in spirit and in truth.
“Not lehrt beten”, and in the prayers which are offered we may discern most clearly the kinds of need of which the worshipper is conscious and the kind of deity to whom he prays. Petitions reveal more candidly than anything else a man’s thought of himself and his thought of God. The prayers of the lower culture are well on the further side of the “great divide” and belong to the [ p. 36 ] cruder anthropomorphism, The Dschagyanegeo spits four times in the morning towards the sun and says, “ O Ruwa, protect me and mine”. The Masai prays every morning, “God of my distress, give me food, give me milk, give me children, give me much cattle, give me meat, my father”[12] The affecting confidence of these prayers goes no further than the claim of the natural needs, and the deity is the benevolent provider for them. “ Create in me a new heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” is the petition of the Psalmist[13], for whom the deepest need is righteousness and “ truth in the inward parts ”. In his thought God and man have passed beyond the natural to the spiritual, and the Divine is primarily the source of moral judgment and of purification, “The gnostic,” says Clement of Alexandria, “ who has reached the summit will pray that contemplation may grow and abide, as the common man will pray for continual good health.”[14] In this saying we hear a note which in varying resonance sounds through all the higher religions, but most clearly in Christianity. God is no longer simply the source of satisfactions, even those of ethical rightness, He is Himself the final satisfaction and that Other which completes the human spirit, so that the aspiring soul can cry, “Whom have I in heaven but thee and there is none upon earth that I desire in comparison of thee”, and the life of time is regarded as “ quoddam suburbium celestis regni”, in which the unearthly joy may be tasted beforehand.[15]
The passage from the lower to the higher anthropomorphism is closely associated with the attainment of [ p. 37 ] monotheistic faith. Doubtless in every historical instance of the rise of belief in one God out of an earlier polytheism influences of a relatively external and accidental character can be alleged. Political developments, fusions of tribes, conquests, even geographical conditions, have played their part ; but these factors are never the mainspring of the development. There is an inner logic or dialectic which pushes the religious consciousness beyond the polytheistic stage. But this logic is not to be understood as a revolt against anthropomorphism in principle, but rather as the fuller development of that principle. For man comes to realize within himself the presence of needs to which the deities of polytheism cannot minister ; needs which go beyond long life, protection against enemies, prosperity, children, and crops. Two needs in particular he discovers—that for the unification of experience, the intellectual need, and that for the substantiation of universal values, the moral and the esthetic need. When once the human spirit has, however dimly, come to recognize the more than natural necessities of its life the knell of polytheism has sounded. The many gods can give no ground for the apprehension of the world as one intelligible system, while the many divine wills, often in antagonism, of the best ordered pantheon can furnish no adequate response to a moral outlook which has apprehended the universal character of moral good.
Nevertheless, the natural reaction against lower conceptions of deity may really be, in some instances, areaction against anthropomorphism in general; and this is more likely to be the case when the myths of popular religion have been very much below the insight of the best minds. For thus the tendency arises to despair of the attempt to revise the idea of deity, which seems irretrievably stained with the heritage derived from the nature-religion, and [ p. 38 ] to push behind the conception of God to that of a principle which has been purged of all the attributes of personality —to pantheism or to the conception of fate or destiny. Dr. Gilbert Murray remarks of the “ Olympian ” religion of Greece: “It is curious how near to monotheism and to monotheism of a very profound and impersonal type the real religion of Greece came in the fifth and sixth centuries,”[16] and it is clear that, in his opinion, the profundity is closely connected with the impersonality. A similar development is even more evidently to be seen in the Indian religions, which on the whole have rested on a pantheistic theology. But the effort to go beyond anthropomorphism leads to the failure of the religious enterprise, which is illustrated by the historical fact that pantheistic theology has everywhere proved to be perfectly compatible with polytheistic worship. It is only those faiths which have ; si to the personal conception of Deity which have had “jealous God ” who will tolerate no other gods beside Him, Perhaps the reason for this is not really obscure. The “values” which religion seeks to find fulfilled and sustained in the Beyond the Self are indeed recognized as no creations of the human spirit, they are universal in claim and they are objective, but they have no existence, nor can their existence be conceived apart from personal life. A thought of God, therefore, which has expunged all tincture of anthropomorphism must decline into a concept of a being for whom no human values are real, into an unknowable ground of the universe or an order of nature.
The consideration which we have given to the place of the anthropomorphic principle in the development of the conception of God is strictly relevant to the study of the Christian doctrine of God, for it is sufficiently obvious [ p. 39 ] that the Christian religion may be regarded as the most extreme and consistent expression of that principle. The eagerness of some Christian thinkers to disclaim the title for their religion is due to the mistaken notion that such a type of thought about God must be superstitious and childish. As we have seen, this accusation can lie only against the lower anthropomorphism. As we shall see in the next chapter, the religious consciousness of Jesus was fashioned after this mode; and it is surely significant that the two pivotal dogmas of developed Christianity are that man is made in the image of God and that God is made manifest fully in the man Christ Jesus. Let us not be afraid of the plain implications of our faith. The Christian doctrine of God depends more than any other on the legitimacy of the anthropomorphic approach.
Christianity is, first of all, the completion of the Hebrew religious experience ; but the Old Testament is not the only influence whose effects may be traced in the Christian conception of God. Two great streams flow together into the sea of Christian thought about God—the Hebrew and the Greek. They represent the two main aspects of the higher anthropomorphism, and Christianity therefore inherits the features of both. The Hebrew development represents, in an almost pure form, the working out of that side of the experience of God for which He is primarily the Souree and Sustainer of ethical values. The onward movement of the Hebrew religious consciousness is motived by this thought. Doubtless influences of a philosophical kind can be discovered in Hebrew literature, in Job and the Wisdom writings, but they are not in the main stream of the development, nor are they, as philosophy, of great moment. It is a curious fact that the canonical literature of the Hebrews, a race which was in [ p. 40 ] later times to produce one at least of the greatest philosophers, should bear so little mark of the philosophical impulse. The Hebrew consciousness of God is a meditation upon righteousness. It pushes to the furthest point the conception of Deity as the Vindicator of moral values, and for that reason it has a deep interest in history, in events, finding in them the revelation of the righteous purpose of God.
The Greek development, on the other hand, is dominated by the specifically philosophical impulse. Little of permanent value for the world has come out of the popular religion of Hellenism. Philosophers were the real teachers of Greece—men who sought to understand, to find unity in experience. Like all generalizations about human affairs, this is open to qualification in detail and can claim to be no more than an approximation to truth. It would indeed be ridiculous to overlook the moral interest which inspires the life of Socrates or Plato and to forget that Stoicism in its later phase was a moral teaching and very little a metaphysic. But the emphasis is upon reason throughout, reason often in isolation from the other aspects and faculties of human nature. The good life is the life according to reason: the reason is the divine element in man, and the most characteristic and consistent product of Greek thought on God is Aristotle’s eternal Thinker who abides beyond good and evil.
We may claim for Christianity as one of its glories that it has at least tried to hold together these two elements in the higher anthropomorphic conceptions of God. It has found in the doctrine of God the satisfaction of the intellect’s thirst for unity and coherence ; but it has found in Him even more the Source and Sustainer of all values, the Supreme Value who is also personal, entering into personal relations with us in worship and prayer. The [ p. 41 ] Hebrew prophet, in the last resort, would have chosen to rely upon his direct experience of Jahweh, the righteous God, and would have affirmed the reality of the voice which spoke in his conscience, even though that inward revelation seemed to have no relevance to any merely intellectual problem, even though it seemed to contradict the deliverances of man’s “wisdom”. We know from Plato’s own words the place which he would have given to “inspiration ” compared with the conclusions of rational thought. The “inspired” utterances of poets and prophets are, at the best, symbolical adumbrations of truth and, at the worst, the source of degrading superstitions.[17] Christianity has never abandoned the belief that the two impulses were reconcilable, that the Personal Righteousness is the explanation of the world. We might illustrate the fact of the synthesis between the specifically “ philosophical ” and the specifically “ religious” motives which Christianity has attempted by a fantastic imagination. Some writer of imaginary conversations should attempt one between Plato and Jeremiah, the greatest man of the Old Testament. The dialogue would be difficult to manage, for it is not easy to see how the two interlocutors could get on to a common ground. They belong to different worlds of thought and experience. A second-rate person like Clement of Alexandria has perhaps no very deep understanding of either Plato or Jeremiah, but they both mean something to him. They both have something to say to him about God. The two worlds of experience and thought have flowed together.
The attempt at synthesis which is a glory of Christianity and one of the marks of its position as the supreme and absolute religion, has been, at the same time, the source [ p. 42 ] of its internal tension and unrest. The two elements within its experience of God have never been completely harmonized ; the personal, “ psychological”, living God of Hebrew tradition and piety has never been successfully identified with the God of metaphysics whose ancestry derives from Greece. Christian thought has never achieved a concept of God which fully satisfied the two needs of its heart. The labours of theologians have always been a little remote from the religion of the saint and of the common man, and the experience of the worshipping community has often created forms of devotion which theology has found hard to rationalize. This inner tension of Christian thought is a significant feature various aspects of which will engage our attention in later chapters. Here I will simply remark that it affords a justification of our present enquiry. The Christian conception of God is not fixed and complete, not a doctrine fully thought out and settled, so that a reopening of the question would bo amere impertinence. The identity of the personal God of holiness with the Ground and Unifier of Reality which Christian faith affirms presents us with a task for thought as well as a resting place for the refreshment of our souls. Every generation has the duty and opportunity of contributing to the work of thinking out the Christian idea of God in the light of its own special point of view.
Phil. II. 12. ↩︎
Op. Post : Adiches, ed. 1920, p. 824, quoted Webb, Kant’s Phil. of Religion, p. 198. ↩︎
Science and the Modern World, p. 238. ↩︎
St. Matt. VIII. 20. St. Luke IX. 58. ↩︎
Xenophanes of Kolophon: Satires, XV, quoted by J. Burnet. Early Greek Philosophy. ↩︎
Euthyphro, 6.b. Repub., Book II. ↩︎
Laws, X, 913. ↩︎
Job XLII, 5, 6. ↩︎
Isa. II, 22. ↩︎
Plato’s Theory of Ethics, p. 330. ↩︎
A Faith that Enquires, p. 58. ↩︎
Heiler, das Gebet, p. 44. ↩︎
Ps. LI. 10. ↩︎
Stromateis VII, 7. ↩︎
The reference is to St. Bonaventura, Soliloquium IV. 1. “Si haec caelestia gaudia jugiter in mente teneres, de hoc exilio quoddam suburbium cxlostis regni construeres, in quo illam sternam dulcidinem quotidie spiritualiter prelibando degustares.” Quoted E. Gilson, St. Bonaventura, p. 459. ↩︎
Five Stages in Greek Religion, p. 92. ↩︎
Repub. 378 v.c. Timaeus 28 a. ↩︎