The City of God, Volume I

To strengthen his case, Augustine cites the philosopher Seneca, who criticized the superstitions of the state religion even more vehemently than Varro. Seneca mocked the images of the gods and the deranged behavior of their worshippers, including self-mutilation and bloodletting, arguing that gods who demand such worship are monsters, not deities. He described the absurdity of temple functionaries acting as hairdressers or lawyers for the gods, treating the Capitol like a stage for mimes. Augustine notes, however, that despite his criticism, Seneca still participated in the rites out of political custom, preferring to act a part rather than genuinely believe. Seneca advised the wise man to observe the laws as if they were pleasing to the gods, but to inwardly despise them as mere customs. Augustine also mentions Seneca’s grudging respect for the Jews, acknowledging that unlike the Romans, the Jews understood the reasons for their rites, a testament to their superior wisdom despite his general disdain for their customs. Seneca observed that the conquered Jews had given laws to the conquerors, a remark that unknowingly testified to the power of the true God. While Seneca possessed the liberty to write against these superstitions, he lacked the courage to live free from them, remaining a hypocrite who worshipped what he condemned.

In conclusion, Augustine asserts that since the gods of the fabulous and civil theologies are proven to be vain, shameful, and invented by men, they cannot be the source of eternal life. He defines eternal life as endless happiness—true beatitude—which can only come from the true God, the giver of felicity. The pagan gods, who are demons, cannot give true happiness; therefore, they cannot grant eternal life. Augustine argues that true happiness is the gift of God, not a goddess named Felicity, and that only the God who is the author of nature can bestow the life that transcends. Having sufficiently demonstrated the vanity of civil theology, Augustine promises to continue the refutation in the next book for those still held by inveterate habit, but maintains that no reasonable person can look to such deities for the salvation of their souls. He dismisses the civil theology as a collection of demon-inspired fables, unworthy of the rational soul, and affirms that the hope of immortality must be placed solely in the God who is the source of all being and all blessedness. The argument is complete: if the gods cannot grant temporal goods, and are morally repugnant in their characters and rites, they are utterly incapable of bestowing the eternal happiness which is the true end of man.

Augustine begins this seventh book by establishing both the pastoral necessity and the eternal stakes of his argument. He requests patience from readers whose sharper minds have already found the previous books sufficient, asking them to tolerate his extended labors for the sake of those still entangled in ancient errors. The task before him is nothing less than the eradication of depraved opinions that centuries of human error have fixed deeply in unenlightened minds. He frames his work as a humble cooperation with divine grace, depending entirely on the help of the true God. What is at stake is the commendation of the true divinity to human beings—not for the sake of temporal advantages, however necessary these may be, but for the sake of eternal life alone, which alone is blessed.

Having demonstrated in the sixth book that the civil theology—the established state worship with its multitude of deities—cannot confer eternal life, Augustine now turns to examine whether the so-called “select gods” might prove more worthy of worship for this supreme end. These select gods constitute a smaller, elite group that Varro distinguished in his final book from the larger crowd of deities. Augustine carefully distances himself from Tertullian’s witty dismissal that selecting gods is like selecting onions, with the rejected ones pronounced bad. Selection itself, Augustine grants, does not necessarily condemn those not chosen. Military recruits are selected, and from these, others are selected for higher service. Overseers are elected in the church without rejecting the rest of the faithful. Corner stones are chosen without rejecting the other stones. The question, therefore, is not whether selection is legitimate, but what these select gods are and why they appear to have been singled out.

Varro identifies twenty select gods: Janus, Jupiter, Saturn, Genius, Mercury, Apollo, Mars, Vulcan, Neptune, Sol, Orcus, Father Liber, Tellus, Ceres, Juno, Luna, Diana, Minerva, Venus, and Vesta—twelve male and eight female. Augustine immediately poses the critical question: were these deities chosen because they hold higher administrative spheres in the cosmos, or simply because they became better known and received more popular worship? If the former, they should not be found among the plebeian crowd of gods assigned to minute and trifling functions. Augustine then demonstrates, through a devastating examination of the reproductive process, that the select gods are engaged in the most menial tasks while obscure deities perform far superior functions.

When a fetus is conceived, Janus opens the way for the seed’s reception; Saturn presides over the seed itself; Liber enables the male to emit seed; Libera, identified with Venus, does the same for the woman; Juno, queen of the select gods, presides over menstruation alongside the obscure goddess Mena. Yet two exceedingly unknown gods—Vitumnus and Sentinus—bestow life and sensation upon the fetus. These gifts, Augustine insists, are incomparably greater than those of the select gods. Without life and sensation, the fetus is mere slime and dust. The seed’s admission, sowing, and emission are worthless unless the fetus attains life. Therefore, the obscure Vitumnus and Sentinus ought to rank among the select rather than Janus and Saturn.

Augustine anticipates the defense that Janus governs all beginnings, Saturn all seeds, Liber and Libera all emissions, and Juno all purgations and births. But he presses the question: do Vitumnus and Sentinus govern all things that live and feel? If so, their position would be sublime, for living and feeling are properties attributed even to the heavenly bodies, while springing from seeds is earthly. If they govern only fleshly life, then why does the universal Governor of life and sense not bestow these gifts directly? And if these lowest matters have been delegated to minor gods as servants, are the select gods so lacking in attendants that they must work alongside ignoble ones? Juno herself, queen of the gods, serves as conductor of boys on journeys alongside the obscure Abeona and Adeona. The goddess Mena, who gives boys a good mind—a gift greater than the memory assigned to Minerva—remains outside the select. Virtue and Felicity, acknowledged as goddesses, are excluded, while Mars, who causes death, and Orcus, who receives the dead, are included.