Two Apologies and Dialogue with Trypho

or greater trifles than those produced by logic. Shall we therefore despise the art itself, which, if it exists (which I cannot affirm) or can exist (which I seem able to affirm), I know not whether it should be placed behind any art either in the dignity of its subject matter or the utility of its office? For what is there that one might do (if there is someone, or will ever be someone, who can and will and dares to do it) that is more glorious for himself or more useful to the human race than to reveal a certain mark of judgment and assent, to pave an easy and safe path for all who wish to flee errors and for those skilled and ingenious in investigating the truth, and to make rational—through art and discipline—those whom nature has merely made capable of reason (a category of animals that is now, indeed, quite scarce)? Meanwhile, regarding the aids that exist for this purpose, there are few for whom it would not be more advantageous to value those things that have been grasped, perhaps not as the greatest, than to despise and ridicule what is unknown. Regarding chronology—which, since we have fallen into this discussion about the trifles of the learned, should by no means be passed over—there is no need to say much. I see that there is no discipline regarding whose utility there is more agreement among those who are quite severe censors of other arts, yet who, if they wish to be consistent, must confess that no class of men, whether learned or unlearned, consumes more time in lighter and more frivolous matters; unless, perhaps, it is worth the effort to spend whole days, months, and years of one's entire and flourishing life investigating the birthday of a futile little man who, if he had never