feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/The Consolation of Philosophy/section_3_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Consolation of Philosophy.book iv
feat_summary_id: book iv
feat_summary: {"name": "Book IV", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20201128165942/https://www.gradesaver.com/the-consolation-of-philosophy/study-guide/summary-book-iv", "summary": "Book IV examines the problem of evil's existence. Boethius has listened to and agreed with all of the arguments Philosophy has so far presented. But if God is perfect in his goodness, and is the unity of all things rules the world, how is it that evil is allowed to exist and is not always punished? In addition, where wickedness flourishes, virtue is often downtrodden and even stamped out. If God is omniscient and omnipotent and beneficent how can this evil continue in His world? Lady Philosophy reminds Boethius of his catechism - that God has said no evil will go unpunished, no virtue will be forgotten. Philosophy also asserts that the wicked are weak and have no power, and the virtuous are strong and powerful. All people strive to true happiness; the wicked cannot possibly attain it, and the virtuous can attain it. The evil people of the world seek happiness in misguided ways, and they will never attain their goal. Evil people are excluded from attaining the supreme good of perfect happiness, and therefore they are excluded from all that really exists. Since they cannot possibly attain the only thing of value any earthly power they have is not actually power at all. Evil people, Philosophy says, cease to exist. The wicked lose power and strength by striving for things that do not matter. They also lose their humanity, and become like the animals they represent by their various desires . Boethius agrees, but he laments that the wicked harm the virtuous and are not punished. Wickedness, like virtue, Philosophy assures Boethius, is its own reward. The wicked, by the fact of their very wickedness, are rewarded by their lack of existence and their descent into bestiality. The are, by their own actions rather than by any outside punishment, denied happiness. If they are punished, the evil people of the world are given a good, for they have a chance at redeeming themselves and changing their ways. When the evil people of the world escape punishment, their capacity and likelihood for more wickedness increases. Boethius finds this difficult, and protests. He can't abide that the good must suffer the earthly punishments that the evil, who deserve them, inflict upon them. This is acceptable in a world where nothing is determinate, but our world, he says, is ruled by God. How can God in his omnipotence allow this? The following argument for the foreknowledge of God is famous and somewhat difficult. Philosophy agrees that this is indeed a mystery, and no human being can hope to understand it fully. All events on Earth are happening in the unchanging mind of God, for whom there is no past, present or future. Since we are temporal beings, we cannot understand how everything that has ever happened or will happen is happening for God simultaneously, but every occurrence is contained within His mind. The government of all changeable things is called Providence. When this is applied in the temporal realm, it is called by the old pagan name of Fate. In short, Providence represents the foreknowledge of God of all things, and controls of the nature of all things. The actual connection of events which occur on Earth is Fate. Providence is the divine reason by which the world is ordered. Fate is the same reason when applied the temporal world. Because we on earth cannot understand Providence, Fate sometimes seems unordered and cruel. Because of this, anything that happens to you, good fortune or bad, is good, because if your fortune is bad it is an instruction toward virtue. This is, in short, the best of all possible worlds, for evil doesn't actually have any substance or power, and all the events of the world have been planned by Providence.", "analysis": "This discussion of evil in the world - this theodicy - is one of the most famous and important passages of this book.  The argument that evil has no substance and does not exist is not always considered an orthodox Catholic idea, but it breaks no rules of the catechism and is easier to prove logically than the existence of the devil.  The fact that the omniscience, omnipotence, and beneficence of God is retained is the important point here, and Boethius does it with verve and daring. Some critics have read the seed of fascism in the idea that the truly wicked are no longer human but have become animals.  Some fascist states, such as Nazi Germany, similarly contended that the \"wicked\" are not really human.  In Boethius' defense, Lady Philosophy advises compassion toward the wicked, rather than contempt, an idea that is never part of fascist philosophy.  However, Philosophy does continue by saying that we should punish the wicked as a cure for their wickedness.  Boethius never really examines the human social context that is an inevitable part of determining who is \"wicked\" and who isn't.  If human beings, who are inevitably flawed and cannot understand the true nature of good and evil, take it upon themselves to punish the \"wicked\" among them, surely injustice may result.  Critics have also said that it is possible that Boethius' injunction to purge the wicked justified torture and death for heretics, in order to enable them to \"lay aside the filth of vice through the pains of punishment.\"  Again, Boethius does not directly address the difficulty of locating absolute values like \"vice\" and \"virtue\" among inevitably flawed, imperfect human beings.  Certainly Boethius foreshadows the extremes of the Inquisition and the mass slaughter of Jews and other \"heretics\" at the hands of Christians. Boethius' argument that evil does not have any substance is not his own idea.  Various philosophies and religions, including Neo-Platonism, had argued this idea before.  The way Philosophy explains it through the ineffectual actions of evil people follows from previous arguments she has presented to Boethius.  Rather than starting with a cosmic idea of good and evil and the nature of God, she starts, as she has every argument so far, with practical discussions of what is done by human beings on earth.  This is, after all, supposed to be a \"consolation,\" not necessarily a cosmography.  When Boethius to be able to start with something he knows - the actions of the virtuous and the evil here on earth - he is better able to find comfort in his situation.  Perhaps this is the reason Boethius wrote this book to begin with - to explain to himself and others how he was able to, without resorting to the revealed knowledge of the Bible, reconcile himself to his fate. Providence and Fate are perhaps the two most difficult concepts to understand in this book.  Because so much of what Boethius says inspired by faith, the arguments for these concepts may seem flip or inadequate.  The concept of God holding all events in his mind at one time, outside of the temporal world, and Fate being the ordering of events in the temporal world, is, in the understatement of Philosophy, a \"mystery.\"  This is as complete an explanation of it as can be found, however, outside of a theological text. Accepting that all fortune is good, and that this is the best of all possible worlds, is as difficult for Boethius as it is for the rest of us.  Perhaps few today would accept that bad fortune leads us toward virtue and good fortune leads us to vice.  However, this argument comforts Boethius, and makes him more accepting of his fate.  Indeed, the Consolation of Philosophy in general functions more as a guidebook for salvaging happiness in the most adverse conditions rather than a theological proof of God's existence or the necessity of evil.  One might go so far as to say that Boethius' Lady Philosophy insists upon the existence of God simply because that belief is conducive to Boethius' consolation.  Truth and pristine logic are not Boethius' object; resignation in the face of unjust realities is."}
text: <CHAPTER>
  BOOK IV. I.
  
  
  Softly and sweetly Philosophy sang these verses to the end without
  losing aught of the dignity of her expression or the seriousness of her
  tones; then, forasmuch as I was as yet unable to forget my deeply-seated
  sorrow, just as she was about to say something further, I broke in and
  cried: 'O thou guide into the way of true light, all that thy voice hath
  uttered from the beginning even unto now has manifestly seemed to me at
  once divine contemplated in itself, and by the force of thy arguments
  placed beyond the possibility of overthrow. Moreover, these truths have
  not been altogether unfamiliar to me heretofore, though because of
  indignation at my wrongs they have for a time been forgotten. But, lo!
  herein is the very chiefest cause of my grief--that, while there exists
  a good ruler of the universe, it is possible that evil should be at all,
  still more that it should go unpunished. Surely thou must see how
  deservedly this of itself provokes astonishment. But a yet greater
  marvel follows: While wickedness reigns and flourishes, virtue not only
  lacks its reward, but is even thrust down and trampled under the feet of
  the wicked, and suffers punishment in the place of crime. That this
  should happen under the rule of a God who knows all things and can do
  all things, but wills only the good, cannot be sufficiently wondered at
  nor sufficiently lamented.'
  
  Then said she: 'It would indeed be infinitely astounding, and of all
  monstrous things most horrible, if, as thou esteemest, in the
  well-ordered home of so great a householder, the base vessels should be
  held in honour, the precious left to neglect. But it is not so. For if
  we hold unshaken those conclusions which we lately reached, thou shall
  learn that, by the will of Him of whose realm we are speaking, the good
  are always strong, the bad always weak and impotent; that vices never go
  unpunished, nor virtues unrewarded; that good fortune ever befalls the
  good, and ill fortune the bad, and much more of the sort, which shall
  hush thy murmurings, and stablish thee in the strong assurance of
  conviction. And since by my late instructions thou hast seen the form of
  happiness, hast learnt, too, the seat where it is to be found, all due
  preliminaries being discharged, I will now show thee the road which will
  lead thee home. Wings, also, will I fasten to thy mind wherewith thou
  mayst soar aloft, that so, all disturbing doubts removed, thou mayst
  return safe to thy country, under my guidance, in the path I will show
  thee, and by the means which I furnish.'
  
  
  
  SONG I. THE SOUL'S FLIGHT.
  
  
      Wings are mine; above the pole
        Far aloft I soar.
      Clothed with these, my nimble soul
        Scorns earth's hated shore,
      Cleaves the skies upon the wind,
      Sees the clouds left far behind.
  
      Soon the glowing point she nears,
        Where the heavens rotate,
      Follows through the starry spheres
        Phoebus' course, or straight
      Takes for comrade 'mid the stars
      Saturn cold or glittering Mars;
  
      Thus each circling orb explores
        Through Night's stole that peers;
      Then, when all are numbered, soars
        Far beyond the spheres,
      Mounting heaven's supremest height
      To the very Fount of light.
  
      There the Sovereign of the world
        His calm sway maintains;
      As the globe is onward whirled
        Guides the chariot reins,
      And in splendour glittering
      Reigns the universal King.
  
      Hither if thy wandering feet
        Find at last a way,
      Here thy long-lost home thou'lt greet:
        'Dear lost land,' thou'lt say,
      'Though from thee I've wandered wide,
      Hence I came, here will abide.'
  
      Yet if ever thou art fain
        Visitant to be
      Of earth's gloomy night again,
        Surely thou wilt see
      Tyrants whom the nations fear
      Dwell in hapless exile here.
  
  
  
  II.
  
  
  Then said I: 'Verily, wondrous great are thy promises; yet I do not
  doubt but thou canst make them good: only keep me not in suspense after
  raising such hopes.'
  
  'Learn, then, first,' said she, 'how that power ever waits upon the
  good, while the bad are left wholly destitute of strength.[K] Of these
  truths the one proves the other; for since good and evil are contraries,
  if it is made plain that good is power, the feebleness of evil is
  clearly seen, and, conversely, if the frail nature of evil is made
  manifest, the strength of good is thereby known. However, to win ampler
  credence for my conclusion, I will pursue both paths, and draw
  confirmation for my statements first in one way and then in the other.
  
  'The carrying out of any human action depends upon two things--to wit,
  will and power; if either be wanting, nothing can be accomplished. For
  if the will be lacking, no attempt at all is made to do what is not
  willed; whereas if there be no power, the will is all in vain. And so,
  if thou seest any man wishing to attain some end, yet utterly failing to
  attain it, thou canst not doubt that he lacked the power of getting what
  he wished for.'
  
  'Why, certainly not; there is no denying it.'
  
  'Canst thou, then, doubt that he whom thou seest to have accomplished
  what he willed had also the power to accomplish it?'
  
  'Of course not.'
  
  'Then, in respect of what he can accomplish a man is to be reckoned
  strong, in respect of what he cannot accomplish weak?'
  
  'Granted,' said I.
  
  'Then, dost thou remember that, by our former reasonings, it was
  concluded that the whole aim of man's will, though the means of pursuit
  vary, is set intently upon happiness?'
  
  'I do remember that this, too, was proved.'
  
  'Dost thou also call to mind how happiness is absolute good, and
  therefore that, when happiness is sought, it is good which is in all
  cases the object of desire?'
  
  'Nay, I do not so much call to mind as keep it fixed in my memory.'
  
  'Then, all men, good and bad alike, with one indistinguishable purpose
  strive to reach good?'
  
  'Yes, that follows.'
  
  'But it is certain that by the attainment of good men become good?'
  
  'It is.'
  
  'Then, do the good attain their object?'
  
  'It seems so.'
  
  'But if the bad were to attain the good which is _their_ object, they
  could not be bad?'
  
  'No.'
  
  'Then, since both seek good, but while the one sort attain it, the other
  attain it not, is there any doubt that the good are endued with power,
  while they who are bad are weak?'
  
  'If any doubt it, he is incapable of reflecting on the nature of things,
  or the consequences involved in reasoning.'
  
  'Again, supposing there are two things to which the same function is
  prescribed in the course of nature, and one of these successfully
  accomplishes the function by natural action, the other is altogether
  incapable of that natural action, instead of which, in a way other than
  is agreeable to its nature, it--I will not say fulfils its function, but
  feigns to fulfil it: which of these two would in thy view be the
  stronger?'
  
  'I guess thy meaning, but I pray thee let me hear thee more at large.'
  
  'Walking is man's natural motion, is it not?'
  
  'Certainly.'
  
  'Thou dost not doubt, I suppose, that it is natural for the feet to
  discharge this function?'
  
  'No; surely I do not.'
  
  'Now, if one man who is able to use his feet walks, and another to whom
  the natural use of his feet is wanting tries to walk on his hands,
  which of the two wouldst thou rightly esteem the stronger?'
  
  'Go on,' said I; 'no one can question but that he who has the natural
  capacity has more strength than he who has it not.'
  
  'Now, the supreme good is set up as the end alike for the bad and for
  the good; but the good seek it through the natural action of the
  virtues, whereas the bad try to attain this same good through all manner
  of concupiscence, which is not the natural way of attaining good. Or
  dost thou think otherwise?'
  
  'Nay; rather, one further consequence is clear to me: for from my
  admissions it must needs follow that the good have power, and the bad
  are impotent.'
  
  'Thou anticipatest rightly, and that as physicians reckon is a sign that
  nature is set working, and is throwing off the disease. But, since I see
  thee so ready at understanding, I will heap proof on proof. Look how
  manifest is the extremity of vicious men's weakness; they cannot even
  reach that goal to which the aim of nature leads and almost constrains
  them. What if they were left without this mighty, this well-nigh
  irresistible help of nature's guidance! Consider also how momentous is
  the powerlessness which incapacitates the wicked. Not light or
  trivial[L] are the prizes which they contend for, but which they cannot
  win or hold; nay, their failure concerns the very sum and crown of
  things. Poor wretches! they fail to compass even that for which they
  toil day and night. Herein also the strength of the good conspicuously
  appears. For just as thou wouldst judge him to be the strongest walker
  whose legs could carry him to a point beyond which no further advance
  was possible, so must thou needs account him strong in power who so
  attains the end of his desires that nothing further to be desired lies
  beyond. Whence follows the obvious conclusion that they who are wicked
  are seen likewise to be wholly destitute of strength. For why do they
  forsake virtue and follow vice? Is it from ignorance of what is good?
  Well, what is more weak and feeble than the blindness of ignorance? Do
  they know what they ought to follow, but lust drives them aside out of
  the way? If it be so, they are still frail by reason of their
  incontinence, for they cannot fight against vice. Or do they knowingly
  and wilfully forsake the good and turn aside to vice? Why, at this rate,
  they not only cease to have power, but cease to be at all. For they who
  forsake the common end of all things that are, they likewise also cease
  to be at all. Now, to some it may seem strange that we should assert
  that the bad, who form the greater part of mankind, do not exist. But
  the fact is so. I do not, indeed, deny that they who are bad are bad,
  but that they _are_ in an unqualified and absolute sense I deny. Just as
  we call a corpse a dead man, but cannot call it simply "man," so I would
  allow the vicious to be bad, but that they _are_ in an absolute sense I
  cannot allow. That only _is_ which maintains its place and keeps its
  nature; whatever falls away from this forsakes the existence which is
  essential to its nature. "But," thou wilt say, "the bad have an
  ability." Nor do I wish to deny it; only this ability of theirs comes
  not from strength, but from impotence. For their ability is to do evil,
  which would have had no efficacy at all if they could have continued in
  the performance of good. So this ability of theirs proves them still
  more plainly to have no power. For if, as we concluded just now, evil is
  nothing, 'tis clear that the wicked can effect nothing, since they are
  only able to do evil.'
  
  ''Tis evident.'
  
  'And that thou mayst understand what is the precise force of this power,
  we determined, did we not, awhile back, that nothing has more power than
  supreme good?'
  
  'We did,' said I.
  
  'But that same highest good cannot do evil?'
  
  'Certainly not.'
  
  'Is there anyone, then, who thinks that men are able to do all things?'
  
  'None but a madman.'
  
  'Yet they are able to do evil?'
  
  'Ay; would they could not!'
  
  'Since, then, he who can do only good is omnipotent, while they who can
  do evil also are not omnipotent, it is manifest that they who can do
  evil have less power. There is this also: we have shown that all power
  is to be reckoned among things desirable, and that all desirable things
  are referred to good as to a kind of consummation of their nature. But
  the ability to commit crime cannot be referred to the good; therefore it
  is not a thing to be desired. And yet all power is desirable; it is
  clear, then, that ability to do evil is not power. From all which
  considerations appeareth the power of the good, and the indubitable
  weakness of the bad, and it is clear that Plato's judgment was true; the
  wise alone are able to do what they would, while the wicked follow their
  own hearts' lust, but can _not_ accomplish what they would. For they go
  on in their wilfulness fancying they will attain what they wish for in
  the paths of delight; but they are very far from its attainment, since
  shameful deeds lead not to happiness.'
  
  FOOTNOTES:
  
  [K] The paradoxes in this chapter and chapter iv. are taken from Plato's
  'Gorgias.' See Jowett, vol. ii., pp. 348-366, and also pp. 400, 401
  ('Gorgias,' 466-479, and 508, 509).
  
  [L]
  
  'No trivial game is here; the strife Is waged for Turnus' own dear
  life.'
  
  _Conington_.
  
  See Virgil, AEneid,' xii. 764, 745: _cf_. 'Iliad,' xxii. 159-162.
  
  
  
  SONG II. THE BONDAGE OF PASSION.
  
  
      When high-enthroned the monarch sits, resplendent in the pride
      Of purple robes, while flashing steel guards him on every side;
      When baleful terrors on his brow with frowning menace lower,
      And Passion shakes his labouring breast--how dreadful seems his power!
      But if the vesture of his state from such a one thou tear,
      Thou'lt see what load of secret bonds this lord of earth doth wear.
      Lust's poison rankles; o'er his mind rage sweeps in tempest rude;
      Sorrow his spirit vexes sore, and empty hopes delude.
      Then thou'lt confess: one hapless wretch, whom many lords oppress,
      Does never what he would, but lives in thraldom's helplessness.
  
  
  
  III.
  
  
  'Thou seest, then, in what foulness unrighteous deeds are sunk, with
  what splendour righteousness shines. Whereby it is manifest that
  goodness never lacks its reward, nor crime its punishment. For, verily,
  in all manner of transactions that for the sake of which the particular
  action is done may justly be accounted the reward of that action, even
  as the wreath for the sake of which the race is run is the reward
  offered for running. Now, we have shown happiness to be that very good
  for the sake of which all things are done. Absolute good, then, is
  offered as the common prize, as it were, of all human actions. But,
  truly, this is a reward from which it is impossible to separate the good
  man, for one who is without good cannot properly be called good at all;
  wherefore righteous dealing never misses its reward. Rage the wicked,
  then, never so violently, the crown shall not fall from the head of the
  wise, nor wither. Verily, other men's unrighteousness cannot pluck from
  righteous souls their proper glory. Were the reward in which the soul of
  the righteous delighteth received from without, then might it be taken
  away by him who gave it, or some other; but since it is conferred by his
  own righteousness, then only will he lose his prize when he has ceased
  to be righteous. Lastly, since every prize is desired because it is
  believed to be good, who can account him who possesses good to be
  without reward? And what a prize, the fairest and grandest of all! For
  remember the corollary which I chiefly insisted on a little while back,
  and reason thus: Since absolute good is happiness, 'tis clear that all
  the good must be happy for the very reason that they are good. But it
  was agreed that those who are happy are gods. So, then, the prize of the
  good is one which no time may impair, no man's power lessen, no man's
  unrighteousness tarnish; 'tis very Godship. And this being so, the wise
  man cannot doubt that punishment is inseparable from the bad. For since
  good and bad, and likewise reward and punishment, are contraries, it
  necessarily follows that, corresponding to all that we see accrue as
  reward of the good, there is some penalty attached as punishment of
  evil. As, then, righteousness itself is the reward of the righteous, so
  wickedness itself is the punishment of the unrighteous. Now, no one who
  is visited with punishment doubts that he is visited with evil.
  Accordingly, if they were but willing to weigh their own case, could
  _they_ think themselves free from punishment whom wickedness, worst of
  all evils, has not only touched, but deeply tainted?
  
  'See, also, from the opposite standpoint--the standpoint of the
  good--what a penalty attends upon the wicked. Thou didst learn a little
  since that whatever is is one, and that unity itself is good.
  Accordingly, by this way of reckoning, whatever falls away from goodness
  ceases to be; whence it comes to pass that the bad cease to be what they
  were, while only the outward aspect is still left to show they have been
  men. Wherefore, by their perversion to badness, they have lost their
  true human nature. Further, since righteousness alone can raise men
  above the level of humanity, it must needs be that unrighteousness
  degrades below man's level those whom it has cast out of man's estate.
  It results, then, that thou canst not consider him human whom thou seest
  transformed by vice. The violent despoiler of other men's goods,
  enflamed with covetousness, surely resembles a wolf. A bold and restless
  spirit, ever wrangling in law-courts, is like some yelping cur. The
  secret schemer, taking pleasure in fraud and stealth, is own brother to
  the fox. The passionate man, phrenzied with rage, we might believe to be
  animated with the soul of a lion. The coward and runaway, afraid where
  no fear is, may be likened to the timid deer. He who is sunk in
  ignorance and stupidity lives like a dull ass. He who is light and
  inconstant, never holding long to one thing, is for all the world like a
  bird. He who wallows in foul and unclean lusts is sunk in the pleasures
  of a filthy hog. So it comes to pass that he who by forsaking
  righteousness ceases to be a man cannot pass into a Godlike condition,
  but actually turns into a brute beast.'
  
  
  
  SONG III. CIRCE'S CUP.
  
  
      Th' Ithacan discreet,
      And all his storm-tossed fleet,
      Far o'er the ocean wave
      The winds of heaven drave--
      Drave to the mystic isle,
      Where dwelleth in her guile
      That fair and faithless one,
      The daughter of the Sun.
      There for the stranger crew
      With cunning spells she knew
      To mix th' enchanted cup.
      For whoso drinks it up,
      Must suffer hideous change
      To monstrous shapes and strange.
      One like a boar appears;
      This his huge form uprears,
      Mighty in bulk and limb--
      An Afric lion--grim
      With claw and fang. Confessed
      A wolf, this, sore distressed
      When he would weep, doth howl;
      And, strangely tame, these prowl
      The Indian tiger's mates.
  
      And though in such sore straits,
      The pity of the god
      Who bears the mystic rod
      Had power the chieftain brave
      From her fell arts to save;
      His comrades, unrestrained,
      The fatal goblet drained.
      All now with low-bent head,
      Like swine, on acorns fed;
      Man's speech and form were reft,
      No human feature left;
      But steadfast still, the mind,
      Unaltered, unresigned,
      The monstrous change bewailed.
  
      How little, then, availed
      The potencies of ill!
      These herbs, this baneful skill,
      May change each outward part,
      But cannot touch the heart.
      In its true home, deep-set,
      Man's spirit liveth yet.
      _Those_ poisons are more fell,
      More potent to expel
      Man from his high estate,
      Which subtly penetrate,
      And leave the body whole,
      But deep infect the soul.
  
  
  
  IV.
  
  
  Then said I: 'This is very true. I see that the vicious, though they
  keep the outward form of man, are rightly said to be changed into beasts
  in respect of their spiritual nature; but, inasmuch as their cruel and
  polluted minds vent their rage in the destruction of the good, I would
  this license were not permitted to them.'
  
  'Nor is it,' said she, 'as shall be shown in the fitting place. Yet if
  that license which thou believest to be permitted to them were taken
  away, the punishment of the wicked would be in great part remitted. For
  verily, incredible as it may seem to some, it needs must be that the bad
  are more unfortunate when they have accomplished their desires than if
  they are unable to get them fulfilled. If it is wretched to will evil,
  to have been able to accomplish evil is more wretched; for without the
  power the wretched will would fail of effect. Accordingly, those whom
  thou seest to will, to be able to accomplish, and to accomplish crime,
  must needs be the victims of a threefold wretchedness, since each one of
  these states has its own measure of wretchedness.'
  
  'Yes,' said I; 'yet I earnestly wish they might speedily be quit of this
  misfortune by losing the ability to accomplish crime.'
  
  'They will lose it,' said she, 'sooner than perchance thou wishest, or
  they themselves think likely; since, verily, within the narrow bounds of
  our brief life there is nothing so late in coming that anyone, least of
  all an immortal spirit, should deem it long to wait for. Their great
  expectations, the lofty fabric of their crimes, is oft overthrown by a
  sudden and unlooked-for ending, and this but sets a limit to their
  misery. For if wickedness makes men wretched, he is necessarily more
  wretched who is wicked for a longer time; and were it not that death, at
  all events, puts an end to the evil doings of the wicked, I should
  account them wretched to the last degree. Indeed, if we have formed true
  conclusions about the ill fortune of wickedness, that wretchedness is
  plainly infinite which is doomed to be eternal.'
  
  Then said I: 'A wonderful inference, and difficult to grant; but I see
  that it agrees entirely with our previous conclusions.'
  
  'Thou art right,' said she; 'but if anyone finds it hard to admit the
  conclusion, he ought in fairness either to prove some falsity in the
  premises, or to show that the combination of propositions does not
  adequately enforce the necessity of the conclusion; otherwise, if the
  premises be granted, nothing whatever can be said against the inference
  of the conclusion. And here is another statement which seems not less
  wonderful, but on the premises assumed is equally necessary.'
  
  'What is that?'
  
  'The wicked are happier in undergoing punishment than if no penalty of
  justice chasten them. And I am not now meaning what might occur to
  anyone--that bad character is amended by retribution, and is brought
  into the right path by the terror of punishment, or that it serves as an
  example to warn others to avoid transgression; but I believe that in
  another way the wicked are more unfortunate when they go unpunished,
  even though no account be taken of amendment, and no regard be paid to
  example.'
  
  'Why, what other way is there beside these?' said I.
  
  Then said she: 'Have we not agreed that the good are happy, and the evil
  wretched?'
  
  'Yes,' said I.
  
  'Now, if,' said she, 'to one in affliction there be given along with his
  misery some good thing, is he not happier than one whose misery is
  misery pure and simple without admixture of any good?'
  
  'It would seem so.'
  
  'But if to one thus wretched, one destitute of all good, some further
  evil be added besides those which make him wretched, is he not to be
  judged far more unhappy than he whose ill fortune is alleviated by some
  share of good?'
  
  'It could scarcely be otherwise.'
  
  'Surely, then, the wicked, when they are punished, have a good thing
  added to them--to wit, the punishment which by the law of justice is
  good; and likewise, when they escape punishment, a new evil attaches to
  them in that very freedom from punishment which thou hast rightly
  acknowledged to be an evil in the case of the unrighteous.'
  
  'I cannot deny it.'
  
  'Then, the wicked are far more unhappy when indulged with an unjust
  freedom from punishment than when punished by a just retribution. Now,
  it is manifest that it is just for the wicked to be punished, and for
  them to escape unpunished is unjust.'
  
  'Why, who would venture to deny it?'
  
  'This, too, no one can possibly deny--that all which is just is good,
  and, conversely, all which is unjust is bad.'
  
  Then I answered: 'These inferences do indeed follow from what we lately
  concluded; but tell me,' said I, 'dost thou take no account of the
  punishment of the soul after the death of the body?'
  
  'Nay, truly,' said she, 'great are these penalties, some of them
  inflicted, I imagine, in the severity of retribution, others in the
  mercy of purification. But it is not my present purpose to speak of
  these. So far, my aim hath been to make thee recognise that the power of
  the bad which shocked thee so exceedingly is no power; to make thee see
  that those of whose freedom from punishment thou didst complain are
  never without the proper penalties of their unrighteousness; to teach
  thee that the license which thou prayedst might soon come to an end is
  not long-enduring; that it would be more unhappy if it lasted longer,
  most unhappy of all if it lasted for ever; thereafter that the
  unrighteous are more wretched if unjustly let go without punishment than
  if punished by a just retribution--from which point of view it follows
  that the wicked are afflicted with more severe penalties just when they
  are supposed to escape punishment.'
  
  Then said I: 'While I follow thy reasonings, I am deeply impressed with
  their truth; but if I turn to the common convictions of men, I find few
  who will even listen to such arguments, let alone admit them to be
  credible.'
  
  'True,' said she; 'they cannot lift eyes accustomed to darkness to the
  light of clear truth, and are like those birds whose vision night
  illumines and day blinds; for while they regard, not the order of the
  universe, but their own dispositions of mind, they think the license to
  commit crime, and the escape from punishment, to be fortunate. But mark
  the ordinance of eternal law. Hast thou fashioned thy soul to the
  likeness of the better, thou hast no need of a judge to award the
  prize--by thine own act hast thou raised thyself in the scale of
  excellence; hast thou perverted thy affections to baser things, look not
  for punishment from one without thee--thine own act hath degraded thee,
  and thrust thee down. Even so, if alternately thou turn thy gaze upon
  the vile earth and upon the heavens, though all without thee stand
  still, by the mere laws of sight thou seemest now sunk in the mire, now
  soaring among the stars. But the common herd regards not these things.
  What, then? Shall we go over to those whom we have shown to be like
  brute beasts? Why, suppose, now, one who had quite lost his sight
  should likewise forget that he had ever possessed the faculty of vision,
  and should imagine that nothing was wanting in him to human perfection,
  should we deem those who saw as well as ever blind? Why, they will not
  even assent to this, either--that they who do wrong are more wretched
  than those who suffer wrong, though the proof of this rests on grounds
  of reason no less strong.'
  
  'Let me hear these same reasons,' said I.
  
  'Wouldst thou deny that every wicked man deserves punishment?'
  
  'I would not, certainly.'
  
  'And that those who are wicked are unhappy is clear in manifold ways?'
  
  'Yes,' I replied.
  
  'Thou dost not doubt, then, that those who deserve punishment are
  wretched?'
  
  'Agreed,' said I.
  
  'So, then, if thou wert sitting in judgment, on whom wouldst thou decree
  the infliction of punishment--on him who had done the wrong, or on him
  who had suffered it?'
  
  'Without doubt, I would compensate the sufferer at the cost of the doer
  of the wrong.'
  
  'Then, the injurer would seem more wretched than the injured?'
  
  'Yes; it follows. And so for this and other reasons resting on the same
  ground, inasmuch as baseness of its own nature makes men wretched, it is
  plain that a wrong involves the misery of the doer, not of the
  sufferer.'
  
  'And yet,' says she, 'the practice of the law-courts is just the
  opposite: advocates try to arouse the commiseration of the judges for
  those who have endured some grievous and cruel wrong; whereas pity is
  rather due to the criminal, who ought to be brought to the judgment-seat
  by his accusers in a spirit not of anger, but of compassion and
  kindness, as a sick man to the physician, to have the ulcer of his fault
  cut away by punishment. Whereby the business of the advocate would
  either wholly come to a standstill, or, did men prefer to make it
  serviceable to mankind, would be restricted to the practice of
  accusation. The wicked themselves also, if through some chink or cranny
  they were permitted to behold the virtue they have forsaken, and were to
  see that by the pains of punishment they would rid themselves of the
  uncleanness of their vices, and win in exchange the recompense of
  righteousness, they would no longer think these sufferings pains; they
  would refuse the help of advocates, and would commit themselves wholly
  into the hands of their accusers and judges. Whence it comes to pass
  that for the wise no place is left for hatred; only the most foolish
  would hate the good, and to hate the bad is unreasonable. For if vicious
  propensity is, as it were, a disease of the soul like bodily sickness,
  even as we account the sick in body by no means deserving of hate, but
  rather of pity, so, and much more, should they be pitied whose minds are
  assailed by wickedness, which is more frightful than any sickness.'
  
  
  
  SONG IV. THE UNREASONABLENESS OF HATRED.
  
  
        Why all this furious strife? Oh, why
      With rash and wilful hand provoke death's destined day?
        If death ye seek--lo! Death is nigh,
      Not of their master's will those coursers swift delay!
  
        The wild beasts vent on man their rage,
      Yet 'gainst their brothers' lives men point the murderous steel;
        Unjust and cruel wars they wage,
      And haste with flying darts the death to meet or deal.
  
        No right nor reason can they show;
      'Tis but because their lands and laws are not the same.
        Wouldst _thou_ give each his due; then know
      Thy love the good must have, the bad thy pity claim.
  
  
  
  V.
  
  
  On this I said: 'I see how there is a happiness and misery founded on
  the actual deserts of the righteous and the wicked. Nevertheless, I
  wonder in myself whether there is not some good and evil in fortune as
  the vulgar understand it. Surely, no sensible man would rather be
  exiled, poor and disgraced, than dwell prosperously in his own country,
  powerful, wealthy, and high in honour. Indeed, the work of wisdom is
  more clear and manifest in its operation when the happiness of rulers is
  somehow passed on to the people around them, especially considering that
  the prison, the law, and the other pains of legal punishment are
  properly due only to mischievous citizens on whose account they were
  originally instituted. Accordingly, I do exceedingly marvel why all this
  is completely reversed--why the good are harassed with the penalties due
  to crime, and the bad carry off the rewards of virtue; and I long to
  hear from thee what reason may be found for so unjust a state of
  disorder. For assuredly I should wonder less if I could believe that all
  things are the confused result of chance. But now my belief in God's
  governance doth add amazement to amazement. For, seeing that He
  sometimes assigns fair fortune to the good and harsh fortune to the bad,
  and then again deals harshly with the good, and grants to the bad their
  hearts' desire, how does this differ from chance, unless some reason is
  discovered for it all?'
  
  'Nay; it is not wonderful,' said she, 'if all should be thought random
  and confused when the principle of order is not known. And though thou
  knowest not the causes on which this great system depends, yet forasmuch
  as a good ruler governs the world, doubt not for thy part that all is
  rightly done.'
  
  
  
  SONG V. WONDER AND IGNORANCE.
  
  
      Who knoweth not how near the pole
        Bootes' course doth go,
      Must marvel by what heavenly law
        He moves his Wain so slow;
      Why late he plunges 'neath the main,
      And swiftly lights his beams again.
  
      When the full-orbed moon grows pale
        In the mid course of night,
      And suddenly the stars shine forth
        That languished in her light,
      Th' astonied nations stand at gaze,
      And beat the air in wild amaze.[M]
  
      None marvels why upon the shore
        The storm-lashed breakers beat,
      Nor why the frost-bound glaciers melt
        At summer's fervent heat;
      For here the cause seems plain and clear,
      Only what's dark and hid we fear.
  
      Weak-minded folly magnifies
        All that is rare and strange,
      And the dull herd's o'erwhelmed with awe
        At unexpected change.
      But wonder leaves enlightened minds,
      When ignorance no longer blinds.
  
  FOOTNOTES:
  
  [M] To frighten away the monster swallowing the moon. The superstition
  was once common. See Tylor's 'Primitive Culture,' pp. 296-302.
  
  
  
  VI.
  
  
  'True,' said I; 'but, since it is thy office to unfold the hidden cause
  of things, and explain principles veiled in darkness, inform me, I pray
  thee, of thine own conclusions in this matter, since the marvel of it is
  what more than aught else disturbs my mind.'
  
  A smile played one moment upon her lips as she replied: 'Thou callest me
  to the greatest of all subjects of inquiry, a task for which the most
  exhaustive treatment barely suffices. Such is its nature that, as fast
  as one doubt is cut away, innumerable others spring up like Hydra's
  heads, nor could we set any limit to their renewal did we not apply the
  mind's living fire to suppress them. For there come within its scope the
  questions of the essential simplicity of providence, of the order of
  fate, of unforeseen chance, of the Divine knowledge and predestination,
  and of the freedom of the will. How heavy is the weight of all this
  thou canst judge for thyself. But, inasmuch as to know these things also
  is part of the treatment of thy malady, we will try to give them some
  consideration, despite the restrictions of the narrow limits of our
  time. Moreover, thou must for a time dispense with the pleasures of
  music and song, if so be that thou findest any delight therein, whilst I
  weave together the connected train of reasons in proper order.'
  
  'As thou wilt,' said I.
  
  Then, as if making a new beginning, she thus discoursed: 'The coming
  into being of all things, the whole course of development in things that
  change, every sort of thing that moves in any wise, receives its due
  cause, order, and form from the steadfastness of the Divine mind. This
  mind, calm in the citadel of its own essential simplicity, has decreed
  that the method of its rule shall be manifold. Viewed in the very purity
  of the Divine intelligence, this method is called _providence_; but
  viewed in regard to those things which it moves and disposes, it is
  what the ancients called _fate_. That these two are different will
  easily be clear to anyone who passes in review their respective
  efficacies. Providence is the Divine reason itself, seated in the
  Supreme Being, which disposes all things; fate is the disposition
  inherent in all things which move, through which providence joins all
  things in their proper order. Providence embraces all things, however
  different, however infinite; fate sets in motion separately individual
  things, and assigns to them severally their position, form, and time.
  
  'So the unfolding of this temporal order unified into the foreview of
  the Divine mind is providence, while the same unity broken up and
  unfolded in time is fate. And although these are different, yet is there
  a dependence between them; for the order of destiny issues from the
  essential simplicity of providence. For as the artificer, forming in his
  mind beforehand the idea of the thing to be made, carries out his
  design, and develops from moment to moment what he had before seen in a
  single instant as a whole, so God in His providence ordains all things
  as parts of a single unchanging whole, but carries out these very
  ordinances by fate in a time of manifold unity. So whether fate is
  accomplished by Divine spirits as the ministers of providence, or by a
  soul, or by the service of all nature--whether by the celestial motion
  of the stars, by the efficacy of angels, or by the many-sided cunning of
  demons--whether by all or by some of these the destined series is woven,
  this, at least, is manifest: that providence is the fixed and simple
  form of destined events, fate their shifting series in order of time, as
  by the disposal of the Divine simplicity they are to take place. Whereby
  it is that all things which are under fate are subjected also to
  providence, on which fate itself is dependent; whereas certain things
  which are set under providence are above the chain of fate--viz., those
  things which by their nearness to the primal Divinity are steadfastly
  fixed, and lie outside the order of fate's movements. For as the
  innermost of several circles revolving round the same centre approaches
  the simplicity of the midmost point, and is, as it were, a pivot round
  which the exterior circles turn, while the outermost, whirled in ampler
  orbit, takes in a wider and wider sweep of space in proportion to its
  departure from the indivisible unity of the centre--while, further,
  whatever joins and allies itself to the centre is narrowed to a like
  simplicity, and no longer expands vaguely into space--even so whatsoever
  departs widely from primal mind is involved more deeply in the meshes of
  fate, and things are free from fate in proportion as they seek to come
  nearer to that central pivot; while if aught cleaves close to supreme
  mind in its absolute fixity, this, too, being free from movement, rises
  above fate's necessity. Therefore, as is reasoning to pure intelligence,
  as that which is generated to that which is, time to eternity, a circle
  to its centre, so is the shifting series of fate to the steadfastness
  and simplicity of providence.
  
  'It is this causal series which moves heaven and the stars, attempers
  the elements to mutual accord, and again in turn transforms them into
  new combinations; _this_ which renews the series of all things that are
  born and die through like successions of germ and birth; it is _its_
  operation which binds the destinies of men by an indissoluble nexus of
  causality, and, since it issues in the beginning from unalterable
  providence, these destinies also must of necessity be immutable.
  Accordingly, the world is ruled for the best if this unity abiding in
  the Divine mind puts forth an inflexible order of causes. And this
  order, by its intrinsic immutability, restricts things mutable which
  otherwise would ebb and flow at random. And so it happens that, although
  to you, who are not altogether capable of understanding this order, all
  things seem confused and disordered, nevertheless there is everywhere an
  appointed limit which guides all things to good. Verily, nothing can be
  done for the sake of evil even by the wicked themselves; for, as we
  abundantly proved, they seek good, but are drawn out of the way by
  perverse error; far less can this order which sets out from the supreme
  centre of good turn aside anywhither from the way in which it began.
  
  '"Yet what confusion," thou wilt say, "can be more unrighteous than that
  prosperity and adversity should indifferently befall the good, what
  they like and what they loathe come alternately to the bad!" Yes; but
  have men in real life such soundness of mind that their judgments of
  righteousness and wickedness must necessarily correspond with facts?
  Why, on this very point their verdicts conflict, and those whom some
  deem worthy of reward, others deem worthy of punishment. Yet granted
  there were one who could rightly distinguish the good and bad, yet would
  he be able to look into the soul's inmost constitution, as it were, if
  we may borrow an expression used of the body? The marvel here is not
  unlike that which astonishes one who does not know why in health sweet
  things suit some constitutions, and bitter others, or why some sick men
  are best alleviated by mild remedies, others by severe. But the
  physician who distinguishes the precise conditions and characteristics
  of health and sickness does not marvel. Now, the health of the soul is
  nothing but righteousness, and vice is its sickness. God, the guide and
  physician of the mind, it is who preserves the good and banishes the
  bad. And He looks forth from the lofty watch-tower of His providence,
  perceives what is suited to each, and assigns what He knows to be
  suitable.
  
  'This, then, is what that extraordinary mystery of the order of destiny
  comes to--that something is done by one who knows, whereat the ignorant
  are astonished. But let us consider a few instances whereby appears what
  is the competency of human reason to fathom the Divine unsearchableness.
  Here is one whom thou deemest the perfection of justice and scrupulous
  integrity; to all-knowing Providence it seems far otherwise. We all know
  our Lucan's admonition that it was the winning cause that found favour
  with the gods, the beaten cause with Cato. So, shouldst thou see
  anything in this world happening differently from thy expectation, doubt
  not but events are rightly ordered; it is in thy judgment that there is
  perverse confusion.
  
  'Grant, however, there be somewhere found one of so happy a character
  that God and man alike agree in their judgments about him; yet is he
  somewhat infirm in strength of mind. It may be, if he fall into
  adversity, he will cease to practise that innocency which has failed to
  secure his fortune. Therefore, God's wise dispensation spares him whom
  adversity might make worse, will not let him suffer who is ill fitted
  for endurance. Another there is perfect in all virtue, so holy and nigh
  to God that providence judges it unlawful that aught untoward should
  befall him; nay, doth not even permit him to be afflicted with bodily
  disease. As one more excellent than I[N] hath said:
  
      '"The very body of the holy saint
      Is built of purest ether."
  
  Often it happens that the governance is given to the good that a
  restraint may be put upon superfluity of wickedness. To others
  providence assigns some mixed lot suited to their spiritual nature; some
  it will plague lest they grow rank through long prosperity; others it
  will suffer to be vexed with sore afflictions to confirm their virtues
  by the exercise and practice of patience. Some fear overmuch what they
  have strength to bear; others despise overmuch that to which their
  strength is unequal. All these it brings to the test of their true self
  through misfortune. Some also have bought a name revered to future ages
  at the price of a glorious death; some by invincible constancy under
  their sufferings have afforded an example to others that virtue cannot
  be overcome by calamity--all which things, without doubt, come to pass
  rightly and in due order, and to the benefit of those to whom they are
  seen to happen.
  
  'As to the other side of the marvel, that the bad now meet with
  affliction, now get their hearts' desire, this, too, springs from the
  same causes. As to the afflictions, of course no one marvels, because
  all hold the wicked to be ill deserving. The truth is, their punishments
  both frighten others from crime, and amend those on whom they are
  inflicted; while their prosperity is a powerful sermon to the good, what
  judgments they ought to pass on good fortune of this kind, which often
  attends the wicked so assiduously.
  
  'There is another object which may, I believe, be attained in such
  cases: there is one, perhaps, whose nature is so reckless and violent
  that poverty would drive him more desperately into crime. _His_ disorder
  providence relieves by allowing him to amass money. Such a one, in the
  uneasiness of a conscience stained with guilt, while he contrasts his
  character with his fortune, perchance grows alarmed lest he should come
  to mourn the loss of that whose possession is so pleasant to him. He
  will, then, reform his ways, and through the fear of losing his fortune
  he forsakes his iniquity. Some, through a prosperity unworthily borne,
  have been hurled headlong to ruin; to some the power of the sword has
  been committed, to the end that the good may be tried by discipline, and
  the bad punished. For while there can be no peace between the righteous
  and the wicked, neither can the wicked agree among themselves. How
  should they, when each is at variance with himself, because his vices
  rend his conscience, and ofttimes they do things which, when they are
  done, they judge ought not to have been done. Hence it is that this
  supreme providence brings to pass this notable marvel--that the bad make
  the bad good. For some, when they see the injustice which they
  themselves suffer at the hands of evil-doers, are inflamed with
  detestation of the offenders, and, in the endeavour to be unlike those
  whom they hate, return to the ways of virtue. It is the Divine power
  alone to which things evil are also good, in that, by putting them to
  suitable use, it bringeth them in the end to some good issue. For order
  in some way or other embraceth all things, so that even that which has
  departed from the appointed laws of the order, nevertheless falleth
  within _an_ order, though _another_ order, that nothing in the realm of
  providence may be left to haphazard. But
  
       '"Hard were the task, as a god, to recount all, nothing omitting."
  
  Nor, truly, is it lawful for man to compass in thought all the mechanism
  of the Divine work, or set it forth in speech. Let us be content to
  have apprehended this only--that God, the creator of universal nature,
  likewise disposeth all things, and guides them to good; and while He
  studies to preserve in likeness to Himself all that He has created, He
  banishes all evil from the borders of His commonweal through the links
  of fatal necessity. Whereby it comes to pass that, if thou look to
  disposing providence, thou wilt nowhere find the evils which are
  believed so to abound on earth.
  
  'But I see thou hast long been burdened with the weight of the subject,
  and fatigued with the prolixity of the argument, and now lookest for
  some refreshment of sweet poesy. Listen, then, and may the draught so
  restore thee that thou wilt bend thy mind more resolutely to what
  remains.'
  
  FOOTNOTES:
  
  [N] Parmenides. Boethius seems to forget for the moment that Philosophy
  is speaking.
  
  
  
  SONG VI. THE UNIVERSAL AIM.
  
  
      Wouldst thou with unclouded mind
      View the laws by God designed,
      Lift thy steadfast gaze on high
      To the starry canopy;
      See in rightful league of love
      All the constellations move.
      Fiery Sol, in full career,
      Ne'er obstructs cold Phoebe's sphere;
      When the Bear, at heaven's height,
      Wheels his coursers' rapid flight,
      Though he sees the starry train
      Sinking in the western main,
      He repines not, nor desires
      In the flood to quench his fires.
  
      In true sequence, as decreed,
      Daily morn and eve succeed;
      Vesper brings the shades of night,
      Lucifer the morning light.
      Love, in alternation due,
      Still the cycle doth renew,
      And discordant strife is driven
      From the starry realm of heaven.
      Thus, in wondrous amity,
      Warring elements agree;
      Hot and cold, and moist and dry,
      Lay their ancient quarrel by;
      High the flickering flame ascends,
      Downward earth for ever tends.
  
      So the year in spring's mild hours
      Loads the air with scent of flowers;
      Summer paints the golden grain;
      Then, when autumn comes again,
      Bright with fruit the orchards glow;
      Winter brings the rain and snow.
      Thus the seasons' fixed progression,
      Tempered in a due succession,
      Nourishes and brings to birth
      All that lives and breathes on earth.
      Then, soon run life's little day,
      All it brought it takes away.
  
      But One sits and guides the reins,
      He who made and all sustains;
      King and Lord and Fountain-head,
      Judge most holy, Law most dread;
      Now impels and now keeps back,
      Holds each waverer in the track.
      Else, were once the power withheld
      That the circling spheres compelled
      In their orbits to revolve,
      This world's order would dissolve,
      And th' harmonious whole would all
      In one hideous ruin fall.
  
      But through this connected frame
      Runs one universal aim;
      Towards the Good do all things tend,
      Many paths, but one the end.
      For naught lasts, unless it turns
      Backward in its course, and yearns
      To that Source to flow again
      Whence its being first was ta'en.
  
  
  
  VII.
  
  
  'Dost thou, then, see the consequence of all that we have said?'
  
  'Nay; what consequence?'
  
  'That absolutely every fortune is good fortune.'
  
  'And how can that be?' said I.
  
  'Attend,' said she. 'Since every fortune, welcome and unwelcome alike,
  has for its object the reward or trial of the good, and the punishing or
  amending of the bad, every fortune must be good, since it is either just
  or useful.'
  
  'The reasoning is exceeding true,' said I, 'the conclusion, so long as I
  reflect upon the providence and fate of which thou hast taught me, based
  on a strong foundation. Yet, with thy leave, we will count it among
  those which just now thou didst set down as paradoxical.'
  
  'And why so?' said she.
  
  'Because ordinary speech is apt to assert, and that frequently, that
  some men's fortune is bad.'
  
  'Shall we, then, for awhile approach more nearly to the language of the
  vulgar, that we may not seem to have departed too far from the usages of
  men?'
  
  'At thy good pleasure,' said I.
  
  'That which advantageth thou callest good, dost thou not?'
  
  'Certainly.'
  
  'And that which either tries or amends advantageth?'
  
  'Granted.'
  
  'Is good, then?'
  
  'Of course.'
  
  'Well, this is _their_ case who have attained virtue and wage war with
  adversity, or turn from vice and lay hold on the path of virtue.'
  
  'I cannot deny it.'
  
  'What of the good fortune which is given as reward of the good--do the
  vulgar adjudge it bad?'
  
  'Anything but that; they deem it to be the best, as indeed it is.'
  
  'What, then, of that which remains, which, though it is harsh, puts the
  restraint of just punishment on the bad--does popular opinion deem it
  good?'
  
  'Nay; of all that can be imagined, it is accounted the most miserable.'
  
  'Observe, then, if, in following popular opinion, we have not ended in a
  conclusion quite paradoxical.'
  
  'How so?' said I.
  
  'Why, it results from our admissions that of all who have attained, or
  are advancing in, or are aiming at virtue, the fortune is in every case
  good, while for those who remain in their wickedness fortune is always
  utterly bad.'
  
  'It is true,' said I; 'yet no one dare acknowledge it.'
  
  'Wherefore,' said she, 'the wise man ought not to take it ill, if ever
  he is involved in one of fortune's conflicts, any more than it becomes a
  brave soldier to be offended when at any time the trumpet sounds for
  battle. The time of trial is the express opportunity for the one to win
  glory, for the other to perfect his wisdom. Hence, indeed, virtue gets
  its name, because, relying on its own efficacy, it yieldeth not to
  adversity. And ye who have taken your stand on virtue's steep ascent,
  it is not for you to be dissolved in delights or enfeebled by pleasure;
  ye close in conflict--yea, in conflict most sharp--with all fortune's
  vicissitudes, lest ye suffer foul fortune to overwhelm or fair fortune
  to corrupt you. Hold the mean with all your strength. Whatever falls
  short of this, or goes beyond, is fraught with scorn of happiness, and
  misses the reward of toil. It rests with you to make your fortune what
  you will. Verily, every harsh-seeming fortune, unless it either
  disciplines or amends, is punishment.'
  
  
  
  SONG VII. THE HERO'S PATH.
  
  
      Ten years a tedious warfare raged,
        Ere Ilium's smoking ruins paid
        For wedlock stained and faith betrayed,
      And great Atrides' wrath assuaged.
  
      But when heaven's anger asked a life,
        And baffling winds his course withstood,
        The king put off his fatherhood,
      And slew his child with priestly knife.
  
      When by the cavern's glimmering light
        His comrades dear Odysseus saw
        In the huge Cyclops' hideous maw
      Engulfed, he wept the piteous sight.
  
      But blinded soon, and wild with pain--
        In bitter tears and sore annoy--
        For that foul feast's unholy joy
      Grim Polyphemus paid again.
  
      His labours for Alcides win
        A name of glory far and wide;
        He tamed the Centaur's haughty pride,
      And from the lion reft his skin.
  
      The foul birds with sure darts he slew;
        The golden fruit he stole--in vain
        The dragon's watch; with triple chain
      From hell's depths Cerberus he drew.
  
      With their fierce lord's own flesh he fed
        The wild steeds; Hydra overcame
        With fire. 'Neath his own waves in shame
      Maimed Achelous hid his head.
  
      Huge Cacus for his crimes was slain;
        On Libya's sands Antaeus hurled;
        The shoulders that upheld the world
      The great boar's dribbled spume did stain.
  
      Last toil of all--his might sustained
        The ball of heaven, nor did he bend
        Beneath; this toil, his labour's end,
      The prize of heaven's high glory gained.
  
      Brave hearts, press on! Lo, heavenward lead
        These bright examples! From the fight
        Turn not your backs in coward flight;
      Earth's conflict won, the stars your meed!
  
  
  
  
  </CHAPTER>
  BOOK V.
  
  FREE WILL AND GOD'S FOREKNOWLEDGE.
  
  
       SUMMARY.
  
       CH. I. Boethius asks if there is really any such thing as chance.
       Philosophy answers, in conformity with Aristotle's definition
       (Phys., II. iv.), that chance is merely relative to human purpose,
       and that what seems fortuitous really depends on a more subtle form
       of causation.--CH. II. Has man, then, any freedom, if the reign of
       law is thus absolute? Freedom of choice, replies Philosophy, is a
       necessary attribute of reason. Man has a measure of freedom, though
       a less perfect freedom than divine natures.--CH. III. But how can
       man's freedom be reconciled with God's absolute foreknowledge? If
       God's foreknowledge be certain, it seems to exclude the possibility
       of man's free will. But if man has no freedom of choice, it
       follows that rewards and punishments are unjust as well as useless;
       that merit and demerit are mere names; that God is the cause of
       men's wickednesses; that prayer is meaningless.--CH. IV. The
       explanation is that man's reasoning faculties are not adequate to
       the apprehension of the ways of God's foreknowledge. If we could
       know, as He knows, all that is most perplexing in this problem
       would be made plain. For knowledge depends not on the nature of the
       thing known, but on the faculty of the knower.--CH. V. Now, where
       our senses conflict with our reason, we defer the judgment of the
       lower faculty to the judgment of the higher. Our present perplexity
       arises from our viewing God's foreknowledge from the standpoint of
       human reason. We must try and rise to the higher standpoint of
       God's immediate intuition.--CH. VI. To understand this higher form
       of cognition, we must consider God's nature. God is eternal.
       Eternity is more than mere everlasting duration. Accordingly, His
       knowledge surveys past and future in the timelessness of an eternal
       present. His foreseeing is seeing. Yet this foreseeing does not in
       itself impose necessity, any more than our seeing things happen
       makes their happening necessary. We may, however, if we please,
       distinguish two necessities--one absolute, the other conditional on
       knowledge. In this conditional sense alone do the things which God
       foresees necessarily come to pass. But this kind of necessity
       affects not the nature of things. It leaves the reality of free
       will unimpaired, and the evils feared do not ensue. Our
       responsibility is great, since all that we do is done in the sight
       of all-seeing Providence.
  
  
  
  
  </CHAPTER>
  
feat_summary_name: Book IV
target: Book IV examines the problem of evil's existence. Boethius has listened to and agreed with all of the arguments Philosophy has so far presented. But if God is perfect in his goodness, and is the unity of all things rules the world, how is it that evil is allowed to exist and is not always punished? In addition, where wickedness flourishes, virtue is often downtrodden and even stamped out. If God is omniscient and omnipotent and beneficent how can this evil continue in His world? Lady Philosophy reminds Boethius of his catechism - that God has said no evil will go unpunished, no virtue will be forgotten. Philosophy also asserts that the wicked are weak and have no power, and the virtuous are strong and powerful. All people strive to true happiness; the wicked cannot possibly attain it, and the virtuous can attain it. The evil people of the world seek happiness in misguided ways, and they will never attain their goal. Evil people are excluded from attaining the supreme good of perfect happiness, and therefore they are excluded from all that really exists. Since they cannot possibly attain the only thing of value any earthly power they have is not actually power at all. Evil people, Philosophy says, cease to exist. The wicked lose power and strength by striving for things that do not matter. They also lose their humanity, and become like the animals they represent by their various desires . Boethius agrees, but he laments that the wicked harm the virtuous and are not punished. Wickedness, like virtue, Philosophy assures Boethius, is its own reward. The wicked, by the fact of their very wickedness, are rewarded by their lack of existence and their descent into bestiality. The are, by their own actions rather than by any outside punishment, denied happiness. If they are punished, the evil people of the world are given a good, for they have a chance at redeeming themselves and changing their ways. When the evil people of the world escape punishment, their capacity and likelihood for more wickedness increases. Boethius finds this difficult, and protests. He can't abide that the good must suffer the earthly punishments that the evil, who deserve them, inflict upon them. This is acceptable in a world where nothing is determinate, but our world, he says, is ruled by God. How can God in his omnipotence allow this? The following argument for the foreknowledge of God is famous and somewhat difficult. Philosophy agrees that this is indeed a mystery, and no human being can hope to understand it fully. All events on Earth are happening in the unchanging mind of God, for whom there is no past, present or future. Since we are temporal beings, we cannot understand how everything that has ever happened or will happen is happening for God simultaneously, but every occurrence is contained within His mind. The government of all changeable things is called Providence. When this is applied in the temporal realm, it is called by the old pagan name of Fate. In short, Providence represents the foreknowledge of God of all things, and controls of the nature of all things. The actual connection of events which occur on Earth is Fate. Providence is the divine reason by which the world is ordered. Fate is the same reason when applied the temporal world. Because we on earth cannot understand Providence, Fate sometimes seems unordered and cruel. Because of this, anything that happens to you, good fortune or bad, is good, because if your fortune is bad it is an instruction toward virtue. This is, in short, the best of all possible worlds, for evil doesn't actually have any substance or power, and all the events of the world have been planned by Providence.
feat_summary_analysis: This discussion of evil in the world - this theodicy - is one of the most famous and important passages of this book.  The argument that evil has no substance and does not exist is not always considered an orthodox Catholic idea, but it breaks no rules of the catechism and is easier to prove logically than the existence of the devil.  The fact that the omniscience, omnipotence, and beneficence of God is retained is the important point here, and Boethius does it with verve and daring. Some critics have read the seed of fascism in the idea that the truly wicked are no longer human but have become animals.  Some fascist states, such as Nazi Germany, similarly contended that the "wicked" are not really human.  In Boethius' defense, Lady Philosophy advises compassion toward the wicked, rather than contempt, an idea that is never part of fascist philosophy.  However, Philosophy does continue by saying that we should punish the wicked as a cure for their wickedness.  Boethius never really examines the human social context that is an inevitable part of determining who is "wicked" and who isn't.  If human beings, who are inevitably flawed and cannot understand the true nature of good and evil, take it upon themselves to punish the "wicked" among them, surely injustice may result.  Critics have also said that it is possible that Boethius' injunction to purge the wicked justified torture and death for heretics, in order to enable them to "lay aside the filth of vice through the pains of punishment."  Again, Boethius does not directly address the difficulty of locating absolute values like "vice" and "virtue" among inevitably flawed, imperfect human beings.  Certainly Boethius foreshadows the extremes of the Inquisition and the mass slaughter of Jews and other "heretics" at the hands of Christians. Boethius' argument that evil does not have any substance is not his own idea.  Various philosophies and religions, including Neo-Platonism, had argued this idea before.  The way Philosophy explains it through the ineffectual actions of evil people follows from previous arguments she has presented to Boethius.  Rather than starting with a cosmic idea of good and evil and the nature of God, she starts, as she has every argument so far, with practical discussions of what is done by human beings on earth.  This is, after all, supposed to be a "consolation," not necessarily a cosmography.  When Boethius to be able to start with something he knows - the actions of the virtuous and the evil here on earth - he is better able to find comfort in his situation.  Perhaps this is the reason Boethius wrote this book to begin with - to explain to himself and others how he was able to, without resorting to the revealed knowledge of the Bible, reconcile himself to his fate. Providence and Fate are perhaps the two most difficult concepts to understand in this book.  Because so much of what Boethius says inspired by faith, the arguments for these concepts may seem flip or inadequate.  The concept of God holding all events in his mind at one time, outside of the temporal world, and Fate being the ordering of events in the temporal world, is, in the understatement of Philosophy, a "mystery."  This is as complete an explanation of it as can be found, however, outside of a theological text. Accepting that all fortune is good, and that this is the best of all possible worlds, is as difficult for Boethius as it is for the rest of us.  Perhaps few today would accept that bad fortune leads us toward virtue and good fortune leads us to vice.  However, this argument comforts Boethius, and makes him more accepting of his fate.  Indeed, the Consolation of Philosophy in general functions more as a guidebook for salvaging happiness in the most adverse conditions rather than a theological proof of God's existence or the necessity of evil.  One might go so far as to say that Boethius' Lady Philosophy insists upon the existence of God simply because that belief is conducive to Boethius' consolation.  Truth and pristine logic are not Boethius' object; resignation in the face of unjust realities is.