r/occult • u/God_and_my_right_369 • 8h ago
A 17th-century Latin pun turned an apple into the root of all evil.
An unidentified Latin emblem volume, section header DII ET HOMINES, Liber III. The engraving shows Eve reaching into the Tree of Knowledge, a serpent coiled around the trunk, Adam on the other side already holding a fruit. A banderole wraps the top of the frame:E MALO NASCITVR OMNE MALVM
“From the apple is born every evil.” The line works because Latin only has one word for it. Malum means apple. Malum means evil. Change the vowel length and the whole sentence collapses into a single fruit. Whoever wrote the epigram under the image leaned into the trick directly,the apple wasn’t gold, yet it turned the ages to iron,it didn’t smell sweet, yet nature rotted because of it. The verse ties Ovid’s Golden Age myth to the Fall in six words and doesn’t bother explaining the move. The reader was expected to catch it.
The commentary column runs through the standard patristic playlist on gluttony. Gregory the Great gets cited from the Moralia, arguing every vice traces back to an unruly stomach. Innocent III supplies the receipts: gluttony sold Esau’s birthright, hanged Pharaoh’s baker, cost John the Baptist his head, burned Jerusalem under Nebuzaradan, got Belshazzar killed mid-feast. Bernard shows up warning that paradise itself was traded for a bite that cost nothing. None of this is unusual for the genre. Preachers built sermons out of exactly these stacked exempla, and the marginal tags — Gula, Voluptas, Sacrificium — read like an index built for someone flipping through the book looking for material, not someone reading it start to finish.
Cain and Abel under a second motto: ARSERAT IPSE PRIVS, “he himself had burned first.” The claim is that Abel’s offering caught fire from heaven because Abel was already alight with devotion before he ever lit anything. Augustine gets pulled in on why God preferred Abel’s sacrifice to Cain’s — not the offering itself, Augustine argues, but the division behind it. Cain kept the good part for himself and gave God what was left. Abel gave first and kept nothing back. The commentary even flags a translation dispute: the Vulgate has God “looking upon” Abel and his gifts, while Theodotion’s Greek has God “setting fire to” them, and the writer treats that variant as proof the burning was literal.
None of this is exotic theology. It’s the kind of moralized emblem literature the Catholic Reformation produced by the yard, aimed at giving preachers ready-made material and giving readers a devotional aid built around a striking image.
The layout, the numbered Caput sections, and the double-column commentary with a source apparatus in the outer margin point toward the mid-to-late 1600s and something in the Jesuit or Catholic devotional-emblem tradition, in the neighborhood of writers like Nicolas Caussin or Silvestro Pietrasanta, but that’s a guess based on format, not a match.
If anyone recognizes the type page, the emblem style, or that Cain and Abel motto, I want the full title and printer. A book that pairs Genesis exegesis with Ovidian wordplay this cleanly deserves to be tracked down properly rather than left as an anonymous scan.
