The Consolation of Philosophy

Introduction

I. Getting to Know The Consolation of Philosophy

The book The Consolation of Philosophy has meant different things to different people over time. A famous historian named Gibbon called it “a golden volume.” He thought it was as good as books by the great thinkers Plato or Tully (also known as Cicero). However, Gibbon didn’t think the philosophy in the book was very effective.

People in the Middle Ages felt differently. They loved The Consolation of Philosophy. Many people translated it, wrote explanations about it, and even copied its style. Here are some examples of its translation:

• King Alfred translated it into Old English for his people to learn from and enjoy.
• Chaucer and John the Chaplain translated it into Middle English.
• Notker Labeo and Peter von Kastl put it into medieval German.
• Simun de Fraisne, Jean de Meung, and others translated it into Old French.
• There were also versions in Greek, Middle Dutch, Old Provencal, Italian, and Spanish.

Later, Queen Elizabeth I of England also translated the book. It’s said she did it very quickly, in about twenty-four to twenty-seven hours! People still translate The Consolation of Philosophy today, though it usually takes them much longer.

Boethius, the author of the book, is a figure who connects two important periods in history: the Classical world (ancient Greece and Rome) and the Medieval world (the Middle Ages). Richard Morris, a writer, said that no philosopher was more essential to writers in the Middle Ages than Boethius. Morris pointed out that if you read works from that time, you’ll find Boethius’s ideas and even his exact words. The full story of Boethius’s wide-ranging influence has been explored by others.

Why was The Consolation of Philosophy so popular? It was likely because Boethius wrote it differently from a typical, formal philosophy book. He wrote it while he was in prison. In that difficult situation, he wasn’t focused on tiny details or complicated arguments. Instead, he wanted to find comfort through broad, general thinking about philosophy. Looking back, we can see him as a “divine popularizer”—someone who made complex ideas understandable for many people. It’s unlikely Boethius thought of himself this way.

This accessible quality of the book was important for two main reasons. First, Boethius was also a skilled poet. This, combined with the book’s readability, made The Consolation of Philosophy appeal to other poets.

• In Britain, it inspired the author of The Kingis Quair to think about the “wheel of Fortune” and write a notable short poem.
• Almost all the long philosophical thoughts in Chaucer’s writings can be traced back to Boethius.
• In Italy, the famous poet Dante placed Boethius in a special place in heaven (in his work Paradiso). Dante praised Boethius as a joyful person who exposed the world’s pretenses to anyone who paid attention to his clear words.

Dante said that Boethius’s words, along with Cicero’s book De Amicitia (On Friendship), gave him the most comfort after the death of his beloved Beatrice. Dante’s Paradiso actually ends with a line that echoes Boethius: “the love that moves the sun and other stars.” In fact, Dante’s entire masterpiece, The Divine Comedy, can be seen as a grand development of Boethius’s ideas. These ideas include the soul’s journey to understand God and its return to its true home, or patria, within the universe.

Second, the wide range of topics and the gentle style of The Consolation of Philosophy made it “the book of most serene and kindly wisdom that the Middle Ages knew.” W. P. Ker, in his clear and brief writing about Boethius, said this book “saved the thought of the Middle Ages.” Ker explained what made it so special:

• It was far better than ordinary writings about death and life’s struggles.
• It revived traditions from Plato and even older, simpler Greek philosophy. This was important because clear thinking was becoming rare due to the complexities of medieval thought.
• The book offered a lifeline to anyone who felt overwhelmed by the complicated arguments of academic thinkers.
• The Consolation of Philosophy provided a viewpoint from which less important issues faded away, allowing the true nature of the world to become clear.
• Ker believed Boethius, more than any other philosopher, helped the great thinkers of the Middle Ages (known as the Schoolmen) maintain a broad, overall view of the world, even when they were busy with very specific and detailed research.

II. Boethius’ Life and Writings

Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius was born around 480 AD. He belonged to an ancient and noble Roman family called the Anicia. This family had become Christian in the fourth century, which was quite early for a well-established, traditional family. After converting, the Anicia family grew very powerful and wealthy. Among Boethius’s ancestors and relatives were many consuls (high-ranking government officials), two emperors, and even a pope. Boethius’s own father had a respected career in public service. He became a consul in 487 AD, serving under King Odoacer, but he died when Boethius was still a boy.

After his father’s death, Boethius was raised in the home of another noble family. This was the family of Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus. Symmachus was a very famous man. He had been a consul in 485 AD and later became the Prefect (governor) of Rome and the Head of the Senate. It was Symmachus who introduced the young Boethius to literature and philosophy. Boethius later married Symmachus’s daughter, Rusticiana. In The Consolation of Philosophy, Boethius speaks of Symmachus and Rusticiana with great respect and admiration.

According to Ennodius, a relative of Boethius, Boethius was a child prodigy—he was exceptionally gifted from a very young age. He showed an unusual love for studying early on. He received an excellent education, possibly in Athens, though the location isn’t certain. As a young man, Boethius mastered all the liberal arts. These were the key subjects of higher education at the time, including rhetoric (the art of effective speaking), logic (the study of reasoning), and astronomy.

Both Ennodius and Cassiodorus (another relative of Boethius who was a high official for King Theodoric the Ostrogoth) talked about Boethius’s skills. They mentioned his eloquence (his ability to speak persuasively), his perfect writing style, and his complete command of the Greek language. Being fluent in Greek was becoming increasingly rare at the end of the fifth century.

At a young age, Boethius caught the attention of Theodoric, the great Ostrogothic king. (Theodoric had defeated and killed the previous ruler, Odoacer, in 493 AD.) We don’t know exactly how Boethius came to Theodoric’s notice. Theodoric praised Boethius highly and gave him several tasks:

• He asked Boethius to build a water clock and a sundial for Gundobad, king of the Burgundians.
• He also asked Boethius to choose a skilled lyre player (a musician) for Clovis, king of the Franks. Boethius was also asked to investigate a case where the official in charge of paying the king’s guards was accused of devaluing the currency. In 510 AD, when Boethius was thirty years old, he was made a consul, serving alone without a colleague. This was traditionally the most honored of all Roman government positions, an honor most men never achieved at any age. However, during Theodoric’s rule, the position of consul was largely symbolic and had little real power.

Later, though the exact year isn’t known, Theodoric appointed Boethius as magister officiorum. This was a very important position with many serious responsibilities. Boethius became the head of the entire government administration and the chief of all palace officials. Then, in 522 AD, an event occurred that Boethius, even later when he was in prison, considered the happiest moment of his life: his two sons were appointed as consuls together. This was a unique honor for their father, Boethius. It showed that he was highly respected by both King Theodoric in Italy and the Emperor in Constantinople (the capital of the Eastern Roman Empire).

The years right after Boethius’s own consulship are not well documented. However, it’s likely during this period that he deeply pursued the studies he had started in Symmachus’s home. His later duties as magister officiorum would have made extensive study difficult. That job would have required him to be away from Rome for long periods, attending Theodoric’s court in cities like Verona or Ravenna. This would have separated him from his library and left him little time for his passionate interest in philosophy, which he called his “chief solace in life.”

Boethius’s true calling was not in high-profile public life, but in the study and careful examination of all areas of philosophy. He pursued this passion with incredible focus and a methodical, steady approach. This dedication is amazing, though perhaps less surprising when we remember he was a child prodigy. This scholarly pursuit shows us the real Boethius: a calm, almost unhurried scholar working on his self-chosen task. He wasn’t trying to escape from a feeling that the once-great Roman government positions had become insignificant. Instead, he had a deliberate plan as a dedicated student: to give his fellow Romans the solid foundation they needed for a truly scholarly study of philosophy. As one writer, Campenhausen, put it, “Boethius saw himself as the schoolmaster of the West.”

Boethius himself described his ambitious goal: “I wish to translate all of Aristotle’s work that I can access into the Roman way of speaking (Latin). I want to carefully offer all his writings in the Latin language. I will translate everything Aristotle ever wrote on the difficult art of logic, on the important field of moral experience, and on the precise understanding of natural things. I will translate them in the correct order. Furthermore, I will make all of this understandable by adding explanations. I would also like to translate all of Plato’s Dialogues, explain them too, and present them in a Latin version. Once this is done, I will also try to prove that Aristotle’s and Plato’s ideas are in harmony in every way. I want to show they do not completely contradict each other, as many people believe. I will demonstrate that they agree on the most philosophically important points. This is the task I will dedicate myself to, as long as I have life and the time to work. I know this task will be as useful as it is difficult, and it will need the help of powers that are never envious or jealous.”

Boethius did not manage to complete this huge plan. However, he did finish translating some important works:

• Porphyry’s Introduction to the Categories of Aristotle. This was meant to be an introductory text for students.
• Aristotle’s writings on logic. These included De Interpretatione, Topics, Prior Analytics, Posterior Analytics, and Sophistical Fallacies. It is also clear that Boethius knew other works by Aristotle, such as Metaphysics, Physics, De Generatione et Corruptione, De Anima, and Poetics. Additionally, Boethius wrote commentaries (detailed explanations) on:
• Porphyry’s Introduction.
• Probably all the works of Aristotle that he translated.
• Cicero’s Topics. But his philosophical work wasn’t just about passing on older knowledge. He also wrote five original books of his own on logic.

The historical importance of all this work was enormous. It was primarily through Boethius’s translations of Aristotle’s logic that knowledge of Aristotle survived in Western Europe during the early Middle Ages. Through his careful, literal translations of philosophical terms, Boethius created a new philosophical vocabulary for the medieval scholars (often called the Schoolmen). His commentaries also provided them with a model for how to write their own explanations of Aristotle. The great medieval debate between Nominalists and Realists (two opposing philosophical views about the nature of reality) actually began with a passage in Boethius’s commentary on Porphyry. A phrase often used to describe Boethius is: “The last of the Romans; the first of the scholastics.” This sums up his crucial role. He was the channel through whom ancient philosophy, precisely organized and systematized by him, passed to the academic discussions of the later period known as Scholasticism.

The liberal arts (subjects like grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy) were also valuable to Boethius, just as they were to St. Augustine. He saw them as a necessary preparation for studying philosophy. Consequently, he wrote books – or rather, translated existing books – on arithmetic, geometry, and possibly on astronomy and mechanics. These works were important in the development of education in the Middle Ages. For instance, his book on music was used as a textbook at Oxford University until the eighteenth century. Boethius also gave us the term quadrivium. This referred to a “fourfold way” – the four subjects of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music – which he believed were essential for anyone wanting to reach the highest level of understanding in philosophy.

Boethius is also credited with writing five small works, or tractates, on theology (the study of God and religious belief). The authenticity of at least four of these is certain. Their teachings are completely orthodox (they align with mainstream Christian doctrine). These tractates are important because they show a philosopher, primarily interested in logic, trying to use the methods of philosophy to support religious truths that are believed to be revealed by God and exist independently. By applying logical methods and Aristotle’s terminology to theological problems, Boethius again stands out as a forerunner of the Scholastic thinkers who came later.

All of this intellectual activity forms the background to Boethius’s last and most famous work, the one for which he is best remembered: The Consolation of Philosophy. Yet, this great book is surrounded by many questions:

• Under what circumstances did he write it?
• Why did Boethius, who was King Theodoric’s trusted right-hand man, fall from power so suddenly and dramatically?
• Was Boethius a Christian? If he was, why does The Consolation of Philosophy make no mention of the Christian faith, which should have been his greatest comfort while he was imprisoned and awaiting death?

Only one of these questions can be answered with certainty. Scholars are confident that Boethius was indeed a Christian. This is because he almost certainly wrote the Theological Tractates (his religious works), and it would have been impossible for an open non-Christian (a pagan) to achieve such high public office in the early sixth century. So, the fact of his Christianity is not really in doubt. However, the quality or nature of his Christian faith is still something people disagree about. While the full historical details of his downfall are lost to time, we can create a reasonable hypothesis (a likely explanation) based on Boethius’s own words and testimonies from that period.

To understand Boethius’s situation, we need some historical context. Since the beginning of the fourth century, the Roman Empire had an Eastern capital in Constantinople, in addition to Rome in the West. Since the end of that century, the Empire had been governed by two emperors, one in the West and one in the East. In 476 AD, a Germanic leader named Odoacer removed the last Western Roman Emperor. Odoacer then sent the imperial insignia (the symbols of the emperor’s power) to Constantinople. In the view of these Germanic peoples, only a Roman could rightfully be emperor (wear “the purple,” a symbol of imperial rank). Odoacer seemed content to keep the Roman administrative system running in Rome and to recognize Zeno, the Eastern Emperor, as the sole emperor. In return for this, Odoacer was given the title of “Patricius,” a high-ranking noble status.

This established a loose working arrangement (a modus vivendi) between the Germanic rulers in Italy and the Emperor in Constantinople. In practice, Odoacer ruled Italy as an independent king. But in theory, and especially in the eyes of the Romans, he was seen as a kind of Viceroy—a representative of the Emperor in Constantinople, ruling a part of a single, unified Empire. This system was continued by Theodoric, king of the Ostrogoths, when he took power from Odoacer in 493 AD. Theodoric even wrote to Anastasius, the Emperor in Constantinople, saying: “Our royalty is an imitation of yours, a copy of the only Empire on earth.”

Theodoric was a great military leader of a Germanic people, but he had also been educated in the sophisticated circles of the imperial court at Constantinople. This background gave him the qualities needed to establish firm and peaceful rule in Italy. He managed to act as both king of the Goths and Viceroy of the emperor. He successfully established a peaceful coexistence between the Roman population and the Goths. The government administration was carried out by the existing Roman civil service, but it was directed by Theodoric’s strong and energetic leadership. He was able to attract highly capable Romans to his service, such as Liberius, Cassiodorus, and Boethius himself. Under Theodoric’s rule, industry thrived, peace was maintained, and buildings and aqueducts were restored and rebuilt. The success of Theodoric’s rule in Italy was also reflected in his growing prestige and influence in other countries.

In religious matters, Theodoric was a Christian. However, he was an Arian. Like most Goths, he belonged to a branch of Christianity that was considered heretical (holding incorrect beliefs) by the main Church. Arians believed that God the Father and God the Son were not of “one substance” or essence. This disagreement had deeply divided the Church. Yet, Theodoric had no difficulty ruling in Rome, the city of the Pope and the center of orthodox (mainstream) Christianity. He firmly supported complete freedom of worship for all groups—except for pagans (followers of the old Roman religions). He also maintained friendly relations with the orthodox clergy. On one occasion, he was even invited to mediate a dispute over a papal election. For the time being, the underlying tensions and potential for future suspicion and hostility remained hidden.

Boethius’s decision to serve as Theodoric’s minister, as we have seen, involved a great deal of personal sacrifice. Like his father-in-law Symmachus, Boethius would have preferred a life of quiet study among his books. (Symmachus himself was a scholar, fluent in Greek, a historian, and a brilliant speaker. Although he had served the Germanic rulers, he maintained a certain aloofness and reserve towards them.) Boethius chose to enter politics not out of a desire for fame, but from a strong sense of duty. We learn from his own writings that he was inspired by Plato’s ideal of a state governed by philosophers. He also used the lessons of philosophy as his guide in carrying out his official duties.

Given Boethius’s strong moral principles and his unselfish honesty, it was inevitable that he would make enemies in the world of politics, which was often filled with hostility, suspicion, deceit, intrigue, and self-promotion. At first, Boethius was successful in opposing the greed and injustice of some Goths, and he had King Theodoric’s support in these efforts. But these favorable circumstances were about to change.

In 484 AD, a major doctrinal split had occurred between the Eastern Church (centered in Constantinople) and the Western Church (centered in Rome). This was known as the Acacian Schism, named after Acacius, the Patriarch of Constantinople, who was condemned by the Pope. This hostility between the Pope and the Italian clergy on one side, and Constantinople on the other, was not entirely unwelcome to King Theodoric. It indirectly strengthened his independence from the Eastern Empire. However, for those who deeply valued the unity of the Roman Empire, the split was a terrible development. This group seems to have included the circle around Symmachus, to which Boethius and many senators belonged. They consistently looked towards the East and valued those connections. Although Boethius himself appears to have stayed out of the direct arguments of these church controversies, it is quite possible that his theological writings (his Theological Tractates) were intended as a modest contribution towards resolving the dispute. The Acacian Schism was, in fact, officially healed in 519 AD, though the underlying disagreements did not end immediately.

Boethius supported the Eastern Empire. The special honor given to him in 522 AD might have first been suggested by the Emperor in Constantinople. This may have happened because a female relative of Boethius who lived in Constantinople asked the Emperor.

The end of the religious split (the Acacian Schism) had political results too. The Senate in Rome had been directly involved in discussions. More importantly, the improving relationship between the Western and Eastern parts of the Empire threatened King Theodoric’s power. In the eyes of many Romans, their true leader was once again the orthodox Emperor in Constantinople. This made Theodoric, who ruled Italy, seem like an outside invader and a heretic (someone with unacceptable religious beliefs).

This mix of circumstances inevitably led to Boethius’s downfall. He was a man of strong principles, not a typical politician. His loyalty was clearly with the Roman Empire and its culture. He did not support the pro-Gothic group associated with a man named Cyprian. The royal court was a dangerous place full of corruption. Boethius’s enemies saw their chance. They fueled King Theodoric’s suspicions, which were already growing. The king was also very angry because Arians (the Christian group Theodoric belonged to) were facing new persecution in the East.

Letters being sent to Constantinople were seized. In these letters, a senator named Albinus had apparently written something unwise. This might have been related to the recent election of Pope John I, who favored closer ties with the Eastern Empire. When Boethius tried to dismiss the seriousness of these letters, evidence was brought forward to connect him to the matter. Boethius claimed this evidence was false, but we don’t know if it was true or not. An additional charge of sorcery was made against him, which seemed like a rather desperate move by his accusers. People likely asked: Wasn’t Boethius the same man who had worked against certain Goths like Conigast and Triguilla? Hadn’t he himself written against the Arian beliefs?

Soon after, Boethius was arrested, found guilty, and sent away into exile to await his execution. The Senate, intimidated by an aging, disillusioned, and suspicious King Theodoric, confirmed the sentence. After being cruelly tortured, Boethius was beaten to death at Pavia, the place of his exile, in the year 524 or 525 AD.

The complete truth about his case will likely never be known. Boethius may have believed that his loyalty to the idea of the Roman Empire was consistent with his service to the Gothic king, Theodoric. However, from the perspective of the Gothic rulers, his loyalty could understandably have been seen as treason. In any case, Theodoric’s revenge continued even after Boethius’s death. It extended to include Boethius’s respected father-in-law, Symmachus, and Pope John I as well. By the time Theodoric died in 526 AD—old and bitter—his entire policy of peaceful coexistence between Romans and Goths lay in ruins. Along with it, the Roman aristocracy, the proud and ancient offices of the Roman state, and the study of philosophy itself virtually disappeared from Italy. Philosophy was only rediscovered much later, during the Carolingian Renaissance in the ninth century, after attacks by Justinian (the Eastern Emperor) and the invasion of the Lombards.

On December 15, 1883, the Sacred Congregation of Rites in Rome, together with the Bishop of Pavia, approved the local worship of St. Severinus Boethius. This practice of honoring Boethius as a saint is at least as old as the ninth century. However, it did not become popular until the thirteenth century. At that time, the famous poet Dante knew that Boethius was buried in the church of San Pietro in Cielo d’Oro in Pavia. Thinkers like Peter Abelard and others in the Middle Ages may have been right to honor Boethius, along with Symmachus and Pope John, as orthodox Christian martyrs who died because of Arianism. However, the modern view tends to see this as too simple an explanation.

The Consolation of Philosophy

Writing in Prison

There was a period of delay between Boethius’s condemnation and his execution. During this time, he was imprisoned in Pavia. We don’t know the exact conditions of his imprisonment. However, he had enough freedom to think deeply and write The Consolation of Philosophy. Some scholars have thought he must have had access to his books while writing. But the book contains many casual references, memories, and quotations. These are not just from philosophers, but also from great literary figures like Catullus, Claudian, Euripides, Homer, Juvenal, Lucan, Menander, Ovid, Seneca (especially his Tragedies), Sophocles, Statius, and Virgil. For a man who spent his youth eagerly reading, and in an age when people’s memories were generally sharper and better at retaining information than ours, recalling these extensive quotes is not so surprising.

Therefore, unless there is strong evidence to prove otherwise, we must believe Boethius. He wrote in prison, alone, knowing he would eventually be executed. He had no help except for the power of his own memory and genius.

Literary Style and Influences

In its form, The Consolation of Philosophy belongs to an ancient type of writing called a consolatio. This was a kind of philosophical writing, part of a broader category called “diatribe,” popular in pagan Greece and Rome. All schools of philosophy used this form. By the time of the Roman philosopher Seneca, the art of writing consolationes had become, as one scholar J. Martha described it, “a kind of moral medication.” One only needed to find the section corresponding to the particular problem to find the best advice for a cure. This background explains several features in Boethius’s book:

• The extended metaphor of philosophy as a doctor and Boethius as a patient.
• Philosophy’s diagnosis of the true nature of Boethius’s “sickness” in Book I.
• The examination of the nature of Fortune (luck or fate).
• The use of historical examples to teach lessons.
• The popular, broad-based philosophy offering common comforts, which is a foundation for much of Book II. This includes a memorable prose passage showing how unimportant and limited earthly fame and glory really are, similar to Cicero’s arguments in The Dream of Scipio.

But The Consolation of Philosophy skillfully combines more than one literary style.

• Part of it is like a monologue (one person speaking their thoughts).
• Part of it imitates the question-and-answer method (dialectic) found in Plato’s dialogues.
• The entire work is structured as a specific type of dialogue known as a sacred dialogue. In this form, the author describes how a divine spirit or power, initially unknown, appears and reveals some hidden wisdom. An example of this can be found in the Apocrypha, in the second book of Esdras.

The combination of a divine revelation dialogue with Menippean Satire already existed before Boethius. Menippean Satire is a literary form, originally Greek and later adopted by Latin writers, which mixes sections of prose with sections of verse (poetry). The most famous earlier example was Martianus Capella’s unusual work, The Marriage of Philology and Mercury. Knowing this book might not have helped Boethius much with the content, but it might have inspired his choice of literary form. Boethius then took this form to a much higher level of artistry than ever before.

The Role of Poetry

So, in The Consolation of Philosophy, there is a skillful blend of different literary forms. A similar, or even greater, level of literary skill is shown in the thirty-nine poems that are woven into the prose, enlivening the discussion. These poems are an essential part of the work, and they serve various purposes:

• They offer relief from the intense philosophical arguments, especially when the “patient” (Boethius) is still spiritually weak.
• As Boethius grows stronger and the arguments become more complex, the poems appear less often. It’s not by chance that The Consolation begins with a poem and ends with prose.
• Sometimes the poems summarize or even advance the philosophical discussion.
• Sometimes their role is like that of the chorus in a Greek tragedy. They offer wise, general comments and provide a sense of distance and perspective on the intense, personal journey of the dialogue.

Opinions about the artistic quality of these poems have varied. A writer in the ninth century thought Boethius was as good as Cicero in his prose and as good as Virgil in his poetry. The great scholar Scaliger considered the poetry divine. On the other hand, Hermann Usener felt the poems sounded like the work of a less mature writer compared to the prose. W. P. Ker thought “the verse of The Consolation is that of a prosodist – somewhat too deliberate in the choice and combination of metres, not always quite successful, it may be thought.” While some poems are clever but not extraordinary, quite a few reach greater heights.

• The poem in Book I, section 5 was already set to music by the ninth century.
• Book II, section 7 contains the famous reference to the bones of Fabricius (a Roman hero known for his integrity).
• Books III and IV include several good poems, such as the fine retelling of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.
• Everyone is likely to be moved by the majestic and masterful poetry of the ninth poem in Book III. This poem was very famous in the Middle Ages and even had special commentaries written about it by scholars like Bruno of Corvey and Adalbold of Utrecht.

In his prose style too, Boethius is much better than many writers of his time. His writing is simpler and more restrained, unlike the typically elaborate and wordy prose of that era.

Philosophical Foundations

In one of his commentaries on the philosopher Porphyry, Boethius wrote: “This love of wisdom (or philosophy) is the illumination of the intelligent mind by that pure wisdom. Pure wisdom is defined as the self-sufficient living mind and the sole original reason for all things. Philosophy is a kind of return and recall to this pure wisdom. So, it seems that philosophy is at once the pursuit of wisdom, the pursuit of divinity, and the friendship of that pure mind. This wisdom gives to all minds the reward of its own divinity and returns them to their proper state and natural purity.”

This idea forms the philosophical basis of The Consolation of Philosophy. In the book, the character of Philosophy comes down to Boethius from above (Book I, section 3) and leads him back to God through various paths. The changing height of Philosophy in Book I, section 1 is symbolic:

• Sometimes she is of average height, offering the practical philosophy found in Book II.
• Sometimes she seems to pierce the sky, leading Boethius back to God, from Whom she came.

Platonic Themes

The overall plan of the book is undoubtedly Platonic (influenced by the ancient Greek philosopher Plato). The idea of turning one’s gaze from what is false to what is true (Book III, section 1) and realizing that God is the supreme good (Book III, section 10) is based on the soul’s ascent in Plato’s famous allegory of the Cave. This allegory is found in the seventh book of Plato’s Republic. The ascent, or education, of the soul is compared to a man climbing out of a dark cave. He has been chained there since childhood, only able to see shadows on the wall. When he is freed, he is brought step by step into the light. Eventually, he is able to see the sun itself, which represents the Idea of the Good.

But the soul’s ascent is not just a process of education; it is also one of remembering. The Platonic basis of The Consolation is also seen in its reference to the doctrine of anamnesis, or recollection. This is discussed in the second poem of Book III. Here, we find a Neoplatonic combination of ideas that Plato himself did not formally link: the ascent of the soul is connected with the doctrine of recollection. Both are seen in terms of the soul turning inward upon itself and being illuminated by its own inner light.

The idea of recollection underlies all of Book III. Early on, in chapter 6 of Book I, Philosophy diagnoses Boethius’s condition as being due to the loss of memory of his true nature. His mind dreams of true happiness (Book III, section 1), but like other people, his memory is clouded (Book III, section 2). This is because there is a natural attraction of the soul to the Good, but it often gets diverted and frustrated along false paths. However, when Boethius is brought to the point where he is ready to turn away from falsehood and towards truth, the recollection and ascent he prays for in the ninth poem of Book III seem almost to be achieved. This happens through the poetic inspiration and anticipation in the magnificent closing lines of that poem. By the end of Book III, the prose has caught up with the poetry again, and Philosophy has shown the true nature of God. However, there is a hint in the Orpheus allegory that Boethius might still fall back into error.

Theodicy: Justifying God’s Ways

The Consolation of Philosophy was written in prison. As the scholar E. K. Rand observed, literature written in prison often takes the form of a theodicy. A theodicy is an attempt to “assert eternal Providence, And Justify the ways of God to men,” as the poet John Milton wrote. We could compare it, for example, to Sir Thomas More’s Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, which was also written in prison while under the threat of execution. So, Boethius’s bitter experiences led him to reconsider the nature of happiness. The method he uses is Platonic dialectic—a way of reasoning through dialogue by asking and answering questions. He carefully imitates the language and conventions of this style, though the main substance of his argument might be drawn from a different source, perhaps from St. Augustine.

To the modern reader, this use of dialectic will probably seem the least successful part of The Consolation. This is because it tends to treat words as if they had fixed, unchanging values, like symbols in algebra or logic. For this reason, the argument at the end of Book III that “evil is nothing” might not convince many today. This argument is based on the reasoning that “God who can do all things cannot do evil,” and therefore “what God cannot do is nothing.” The further conclusion that evil men are powerless will also likely fail to persuade. However, this argument contains the seeds for further discussion in Book IV.

Providence, Fate, and Free Will

Book IV is what the scholar Campenhausen calls “a detailed theodicy developed in the Platonic spirit.” The first part of Book IV discusses:

• The strength of good people and the weakness of bad people.
• Their rewards and punishments.
• It includes the idea that criminals should be treated like sick people who need healing. This section is based on Plato’s dialogue, Gorgias.

The second part of Book IV responds to Boethius’s doubts about how God controls the universe. Here, Philosophy starts a fresh line of argument. Chapter 6 marks a shift:

• It’s the end of the Socratic dialogue style and decorative language.
• It’s the end of Boethius’s main reliance on Plato.
• It’s an advance to a higher level of argument.

This higher argument explains two aspects of history:

1. Providence: God’s simple, unchanging plan in His own mind.
2. Fate: The ever-changing distribution of all the events God has planned, spread out over time.

Boethius seems to have combined two ideas here:

• The idea of a changeable Fate that governs and revolves all things. He likely read about this in a treatise called On Providence and Fate by Proclus, a Neoplatonist philosopher from the fifth century.
• The idea of God as the “still point of the turning world.” This concept, already hinted at near the end of Book III, chapter 12, Boethius found in the philosophy of Plotinus.

The combination of these two ideas is perfect. According to both Proclus and Plotinus, the more the soul frees itself from physical things, the more it frees itself from Fate. As the soul does this, it gets closer to the stability and simplicity of the place of rest at the center. According to Plotinus, this center is God, the hinge upon which everything turns, or Providence. For Boethius, this is the source of freedom and consolation. This is a brilliant example of what H. R. Patch calls Boethius’s “inspired eclecticism”—his skill in blending material from various sources to create a new and harmonious whole.

The poem that follows this discussion celebrates in verse the truth that has just been explained: God’s loving government of the universe. The question of why evil exists in the world finds its solution in the vision of divine peace. This theme of God’s governance appears in several poems that deal with how the universe is structured, offering a generally Platonic answer:

• First, in Book I, poem 5, Boethius praises God’s rule over the universe. But he asks why this rule doesn’t seem to apply to human affairs and why people are subject to the whims of Fortune. He ends with a prayer that seems to echo the line “Thy will be done in earth as in heaven” from the Lord’s Prayer.
• Then, in the last poem of Book II, Philosophy sings about the power of love in the natural world. This love preserves peace and keeps chaos away. She directly answers Boethius by saying that God’s government does include human affairs: love creates peace between nations, blesses marriage, and strengthens friendship. But she also implies that humans can rebel against this love and separate themselves from the proper order of things. This is how Boethius lost his way—through a misguided love. But there is a hint of a promise that through true love, he will be brought back to his real home.
• Book III, poem 9 continues the theme of God’s government and control of the universe. This theme then receives its fullest treatment in Book IV, poem 6. This poem begins, like the first two in this group, with a description of the eternal peace of the heavens, brought about by love. Echoing Book III, poem 9 and Plato’s Timaeus, Philosophy moves on to discuss the harmony of the elements, the seasons, and the cycles of birth and death, which include humanity. She connects human affairs with the cosmic power of love. This leads her to describe the author of this love (God), who stabilizes the universe through a triple movement described by Neoplatonists: movement away from God, turning back, and returning to Him.

In Boethius’s emphasis on peace and love, some commentators have seen a shift away from purely philosophical expression. They see it as something closer to the writings of Christian authors like Pseudo-Dionysius and St. Augustine. One scholar noted, “These poems have a temper and colouring that harmonises with the Christianity of their author.” Whether this is true, or if it’s just a philosophical expression of an idea going back to the ancient Greek philosopher Empedocles’ concept of Love, these poems were certainly influential in later times. They contain the seeds of thought found in Dante (for example, Beatrice’s speech at the end of Paradiso I). They are also the source of Chaucer’s noble philosophy of love in his work Troilus and Criseyde.

The final poem of Book IV is a hymn of encouragement. The heroes Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Hercules are celebrated as examples of great achievement. They serve as incentives for the final stage in the ascent to divinity. The discussion of Fate and Providence leads directly into Book V. In the first chapter, Philosophy answers Boethius’s inquiry by stating that the chain of causes rules all things, and she denies the existence of pure chance. The doctrine of Fate and Providence, and of secondary causes, comes from Plato. But here, Philosophy uses an Aristotelian development of this idea—analyzing contingency (things that might or might not happen) into absolute and incidental causes—and she uses an Aristotelian example.

In the second chapter, freedom is asserted based on the Platonic tradition: the more one shares in the divine, the more freedom one achieves. But the assertion that the choices of an individual soul are already known to Providence raises another difficulty for Boethius. This is the apparent incompatibility between divine foreknowledge (God knowing what will happen) and freedom of the will.

It’s hard to accept that God’s plan, or Providence, could be flawed or change based on events in time. Yet, if God truly knows the future (has foreknowledge), this seems to make all future events and actions completely unavoidable. If everything is unavoidable, then it seems strange or unfair for God to reward or punish people for their actions.

Boethius didn’t find much comfort in St. Augustine’s answer to this problem. Augustine suggested that human free will depends on God’s will. Boethius also wasn’t satisfied by believing in predestination—the idea that God has already decided everything that will happen. So, Boethius pushed the argument further. He wanted to find a way to justify a belief in human freedom that was strong enough to make people morally responsible for their choices.

His solution comes from combining two main ideas:

1. First, the quality of knowledge depends on the ability of the knower to know, not on the ability of the object to be known.
2. Second, he compared God’s ability to know with human ability to know.

This leads to Boethius’s classic definition of eternity, found at the beginning of the very last chapter of his book. The ultimate source for this idea, once again, is Plato’s dialogue Timaeus, where Plato discusses time as a moving image of eternity. Boethius likely encountered this idea through the writings of the later philosopher Proclus. However, Boethius expressed this concept with such clarity and conciseness that his definition—like several others he created—was accepted as authoritative by St. Thomas Aquinas and other medieval scholars.

Boethius explains eternity not as a long quantity of life, but as a special quality of life:

• God is eternal because He possesses everlasting life completely, all at once (simultaneously), and perfectly. For God, there is no past or future, only a timeless present.
• The world, on the other hand, is merely perpetual. It experiences an endless series of moments, where each moment is lost as soon as it is gained. In trying to explain this, Boethius is pushing the limits of what language can express.

This definition of eternity, along with his theory of knowledge and Aristotle’s theory of two kinds of necessity (simple and conditional), forms the core of Boethius’s explanation of how God’s perfect knowledge and human free will can coexist. Boethius uses an analogy: God is like a spectator at a chariot race.

• The spectator watches the actions the charioteers perform.
• But the spectator’s watching does not cause those actions. Similarly, God’s vision of events is eternal, meaning He sees all things simultaneously—past, present, and future—in one timeless moment, without causing them. This allows God to have knowledge of events that, from the human perspective in time, seem uncertain.

Of course, this solution answers a particular kind of objection from Boethius’s time. He cannot be blamed for not addressing difficulties that might be raised today. Few thinkers have struggled more honestly with the problems of good and evil, fate, and free will. If Boethius’s answers are not entirely satisfying, Philosophy’s own words in the book may remind us that “it is not allowed to man to comprehend in thought all the ways of the divine work.” This is the traditional Christian attitude, going back to St. Paul, regarding mysterious aspects of its doctrine that seem beyond human explanation. By firmly insisting on both human freedom and God’s complete knowledge (omniscience), Boethius maintains a position that is perfectly in line with Christian belief.

With a touch of deliberate artistry, the book leaves us at the end with Philosophy’s final encouragement. We are left on a high plane of thought, with our gaze directed upwards, forgetting the prison walls.

IV. The Christianity of Boethius

And so we come back to a question raised earlier: What was the true nature of Boethius’s Christianity? It would not be hard to show that, despite his reliance on ideas borrowed from Stoicism, Plato, Aristotle, and Neoplatonism, there is little in The Consolation of Philosophy that openly contradicts basic Christian teachings. The few elements that might conflict are:

• The doctrine of anamnesis (recollection), which implies that the soul existed before birth.
• The idea of the world’s perpetuity (that the world has always existed and will always exist), found in the poem based on Plato’s Timaeus. This implicitly denies the Christian doctrine of creation ex nihilo (creation out of nothing). However, these points are not fundamentally significant within The Consolation.

Indeed, there are important differences between Boethius’s thought and the Neoplatonism that influenced him so much. For example, the God of Plotinus (a key Neoplatonist) was absolutely transcendent and impossible to describe. From this supreme being, the variety of finite things in the world “emanated” or flowed out through a hierarchy of powers like Mind, World-Soul, and Nature. Plotinus’s Neoplatonic successors actually increased the number of these intermediary beings between God and physical objects. They did this to emphasize the remoteness of the supreme Godhead. One critic described their system as an “amazing metaphysical museum, with all the entities and super-entities neatly labelled and arranged on their proper shelves.”

All of this, however, is quite different from Boethius’s view.

• He speaks not of a remote supreme essence, but of God.
• He does not fill the gap between God and His world with a complicated series of “graded abstractions” or intermediary beings. Boethius’s God is a personal God—a God to whom one can and should pray, as he reminds us in the final words of The Consolation.

It is tempting, therefore, to argue that The Consolation of Philosophy doesn’t mention Christ, Christianity, or the Bible explicitly because Boethius was writing a philosophical comfort, not a theological one. The writer C. S. Lewis suggested Boethius might say: “Did you not read my title? I wrote philosophically, not religiously, because I had chosen the consolations of philosophy, not those of religion, as my subject. You might as well ask why a book on arithmetic does not use geometrical methods.”

It is true that an author would be expected to distinguish between different fields of study and avoid mixing their methods. For instance, Boethius praises Philosophy (the character in his book) for presenting her arguments from “within the bounds of the matter we have been discussing,” not from outside sources. This seems to commend her for sticking to philosophical methods and not bringing in anything from religious revelation. Here, as in Boethius’s other works, we seem to find a clear distinction between faith and reason.

Nevertheless, it seems strange that Boethius, writing while facing death, still prefers reason to faith. It is puzzling that he makes no mention of what should be the most meaningful consolation for a Christian: the Incarnation of Christ (God becoming human) and the doctrine of grace (God’s free help). For St. Augustine, since humans could achieve nothing good on their own, their absolute dependence on God’s grace was, at the same time, their true freedom and happiness. But Boethius’s doctrine of salvation—the ascent of the unaided individual to the knowledge of God through philosophical self-reflection and meditation—is essentially pagan in its inspiration. This is true despite the closeness between Neoplatonic philosophy and the Christianity of Boethius’s time (post-Augustinian Christianity). This is the reason why Sir Thomas More, in his Dialogue of Comfort, rejected the ancient philosophers. It is also interesting that even in the Middle Ages, when Boethius was accepted as a saint, commentators and scholars like Bruno of Corvey and John of Salisbury noticed the absence of Christian doctrine from The Consolation.

It is hard to avoid the conclusion that Boethius practiced a kind of “neutralized Christianity” (or christianisme neutralisé). As one scholar put it: “Boethius needs neither word nor Spirit nor mercy, neither church nor fellow-Christians in order to be what he is. It is therefore no accident but entirely appropriate that his last confession does not speak about Christ.” He lived in an age when ancient classical culture had been blended with Christianity, but not completely absorbed by it. The schools, for example, were still largely pagan in their curriculum. And Boethius had not undergone the kind of profound inner religious conversion experienced by figures like Sidonius or Ennodius. The ancient learning still held a strong, undiminished grip on him.

It may be, however, that the question of Boethius’s Christianity has not been framed correctly. If more were known about the intellectual atmosphere of Roman society at that time, the problem might appear in a different light.

The scholar David Knowles suggests that the explanation may lie in a changed attitude towards philosophy since the later Middle Ages. Knowles proposes that:

• Between the time of St. Augustine (early 5th century) and Siger of Brabant (13th century), serious thinkers universally believed there was a single, true, rational explanation of humanity, the universe, and an all-powerful, provident God. This philosophical truth was considered as valid in its own way as the revealed truths of Christianity.
• It was believed that the great thinkers of ancient times, even if they were pagan, had reached and expressed this truth in their philosophy. If one could faithfully reproduce their teaching, philosophy could provide true and sufficient answers to the problems of human life and destiny.
• With these philosophical answers, a thinking person could face the world and all its disasters.
• Behind these rational arguments, in the unseen realm of the soul, an individual could still personally encounter the love and grace of Christ.

Book I

I. A Grieving Man’s Song

Boethius speaks: I used to write songs with joy and passion. Now, sorrow drives me into a state of weeping. Look, the Muses, their faces streaked with tears, tell me what to write. They make my own face wet with sad poems. At least no fear could stop them From accompanying me on my path. They were the light of my happy youth, And they still comfort me in my unfortunate old age. Old age came too quickly, sped up by suffering. Then grief began its rule over me. My hair has turned white too soon. I am just a worn-out bag of bones, loosely covered with flesh. Death would be a blessing if it spared the happy And instead listened to the pleas of the miserable. But now, Death is deaf to hopeless cries. His hands refuse to close poor, weeping eyes. When false Fortune smiled on me with success, Not even an hour of sadness could have brought me down. But now her untrustworthy face has darkened. The days that lengthen my life are not welcome. Those friends who called me happy then were foolish. For a man’s fall shows he was never truly secure.

The Vision of Philosophy

While I was quietly thinking about these things and expressing my sorrow with my pen, I suddenly realized a woman was standing over me. She had an awe-inspiring appearance. Her eyes were burning and sharper than usual human eyes. She seemed so ancient that I could hardly think of her as being from my own time, yet she had a vibrant color and seemed full of energy. It was hard to be sure of her height. Sometimes she seemed of average human size. At other times, she seemed to touch the very sky with the top of her head. And when she lifted herself even higher, she pierced the sky and disappeared from human sight.

Her clothes were made of a material that would never wear out. They were woven from the finest thread with the most delicate skill. (She later told me she had made them with her own hands.) However, their beauty was dimmed by a kind of film, as if from long neglect, like statues covered in dust. On the bottom hem of her dress, the Greek letter Pi (Π) was embroidered. On the top hem, the Greek letter Theta (Θ) was embroidered. Between these two letters, a series of steps like a ladder rose from the lower letter to the higher one. Her dress had been torn by the hands of violent people, who had each carried off whatever pieces they could grab. She held some books in her right hand and a scepter in her left.

When she saw the Muses of Poetry at my bedside, helping me find words for my tears, she became angry. “Who,” she demanded, her piercing eyes flashing, “has allowed these hysterical women to approach this sick man’s bedside? They have no medicine to ease his pains, only sweetened poisons that will make them worse. These are the very ones who destroy the rich and fruitful harvest of Reason with the useless thorns of Passion. They make men used to their sickness of mind instead of curing them. If you were, as usual, seducing some ordinary man, it would matter little to me – my work would not be harmed. But this man has been nourished by the philosophies of Zeno and Plato! Sirens is a better name for you and your deadly charms. Go away, and leave him for my own Muses to heal and cure.”

These sharp words made the Muses blush with shame. With their eyes cast down, they left in a sad group. My own tears had partly blinded me, so I couldn’t make out who this woman with such commanding authority was. Overcome with surprise, I could only stare at the ground and wait silently for what she would do next. She came closer and sat down on the edge of my bed. I felt her eyes looking at my face, which was lowered and marked by grief. Then, sadly, she began to recite the following lines about my confused state of mind.

II. Philosophy’s Song of a Lost Mind

Philosophy speaks: “This is how the mind sinks into deep despair, And its vision grows dim. When life’s storms increase the weight of earthly worries, The mind forgets its own inner light And turns to trust the darkness outside.

This was the man who once was free To explore the heavens with devoted passion, To study the red sun, And the cold beauty of the moon. He was an astronomer who once took joy In understanding and connecting With the planets on their wandering paths.

This man, this very man, searched for the source Of storms that roar and stir up the seas. He sought the spirit that turns the world, The reason why the sun moves From the shining East to the watery West. He sought the reason why spring hours Are mild and filled with flowers, And who enriched ripe autumn With plentiful grapes at the peak of the year.

Now look: that mind which searched And made all Nature’s hidden secrets clear Lies helpless, a prisoner of darkness. His neck is bent low, forced into shackles, And he is compelled by the weight To look only at the lowly dust.”

Philosophy Begins to Heal

“But this is a time for healing, not for more sorrow,” she continued. Then, fixing her eyes intently on me, she said, “You are the man, are you not, who was raised on the milk of my learning? You were fed my own food until you reached full maturity. I gave you weapons to protect you and keep your strength whole, but you threw them away. Surely you recognize me? And yet you do not speak. Is it shame or amazement that keeps you silent? I would prefer it to be shame, but I see that it is not.”

When she saw that I was not refusing to speak, but was so dumbstruck that I could not speak, she gently laid her hand on my chest. “It is nothing serious,” she said. “He is only suffering from a touch of amnesia, the common illness of confused minds. He has forgotten for a while who he is, but he will soon remember once he has recognized me. To make it easier for him, I will wipe a little of the blinding cloud of worldly concerns from his eyes.” As she spoke, she gathered her dress into a fold and wiped the tears from my eyes.

III. Clarity Returns

Boethius speaks: The night was driven away, the darkness fled, And my eyes regained their former strength. It was like when the wild west wind gathers Black clouds, and a stormy darkness fills the sky: The sun hides before the stars are due to shine, And night covers all the earth. But if the North wind rushes out from its Thracian cave, Lashes the darkness, and frees the imprisoned day, The sun suddenly shines out, filled with light, And dazzles the blinking eye with its rays.

Boethius Recognizes His Teacher

In the same way, the clouds of my grief scattered, and I took in the light. With my thoughts gathered, I turned to look at the face of my physician. I fixed my gaze upon her, and I saw that it was my nurse, Philosophy, in whose house I had been cared for since my youth. I asked her, “Why have you come down from the heights of heaven to my lonely place of exile? Is it to suffer false accusations along with me?”

“My child,” she replied, “why should I abandon you? Why should I not share your work and the burden you carry because people hate my name? Should I be frightened of being accused? Or should I cower in fear as if this were something new? This is hardly the first time wisdom has been threatened with danger by evil forces. In ancient times too, even before my servant Plato, I fought many great battles against the reckless forces of foolishness. And then, in Plato’s own lifetime, his master Socrates was unjustly put to death—a victorious death he won with me by his side. After that, groups of Epicureans, Stoics, and others each tried their best to seize the inheritance of wisdom that Socrates left behind. As part of their looting, they tried to carry me off. But I fought and struggled, and in the fight, the robe which I had woven with my own hands was torn. They ripped off little pieces from it and went away, foolishly believing they had obtained all of philosophy. The sight of scraps of my clothing on them made ignorant people think they were my close followers. As a result, many of them became corrupted by the ignorance of the uninformed crowd.”

“But even if you do not know the stories of foreign philosophers—how Anaxagoras was banished from Athens, how Socrates was put to death by poisoning, and how Zeno was tortured—you do know of Romans like Canius, Seneca, and Soranus. Their memory is still fresh and celebrated. The only reason for their tragic suffering was their obvious and complete contempt for the pursuits of immoral men, a contempt my teaching had instilled in them. So, it’s hardly surprising if we are driven by the blasts of storms when our main goal in this sea of life is to displease wicked men. And though there are many of them, we can afford to despise them. They have no one to lead them and are carried along only by ignorance, which distracts them randomly, first one way and then another. When their forces attack us in greater numbers, our general wisely withdraws our forces to a strong position. They are left to weigh themselves down with useless stolen goods. Safe from their furious activity, high on our ramparts, we can smile at their efforts to collect the most useless treasures. Our citadel cannot fall to the assaults of folly.”

IV. A Song of Inner Strength

Philosophy speaks: “Let people compose themselves and live in peace. Let them set proud fate beneath their feet. Let them look, unmoved, on good fortune and bad, And keep an unchanging expression. They will stand unmoved before the ocean’s rage, As it churns up waves from deep below. They will stand unmoved by restless Mount Vesuvius, When its furnace bursts and hurls flames. They will stand unmoved by fiery thunderbolts in flight, Which sweep down and destroy high towers.

Why then are miserable people in awe When tyrants rage so powerlessly? If you first get rid of hope and fear, You have disarmed the tyrant’s anger. But whoever trembles in fear or hope, Drifting and losing self-control, Has thrown away his shield, has abandoned his post, And is tying the very chain that will bind him.”

Philosophy Asks Boethius to Speak

“Do you understand this?” she went on. “Have my words truly reached your mind? Or are you like the proverb says, a donkey deaf to the sound of the lyre? Tell me, why are you weeping? Why are your eyes full of tears? As Homer says, ‘Speak out and do not hide it within.’ If you want the doctor’s help, you must show your wound.”

I gathered my thoughts and replied with energy, “Surely the harshness of Fortune’s attack on me needs no further explanation; it is obvious. Just look at this place! Is this the library in my house, which you yourself chose as a place of sure rest, and where you so often used to sit with me, discussing all topics of philosophy? Are my clothes the same, and is my face the same, as when I used to explore the secrets of nature with you? Back then, you would use your stick to describe the various paths of the planets, and you would connect human ethics and all of human life to the patterns of the stars.

This, then, is how you reward your followers! And yet, it was you who praised Plato’s opinion that countries would be blessed if they were ruled by philosophers, or if their rulers happened to have studied philosophy. You followed his idea and said that philosophers needed to take part in government. This was to prevent the control of government from falling into the hands of wicked and unprincipเพื่อled men, which would lead to the ruin and destruction of good people. It was based on this authority that I decided to apply what I had learned from you in our private studies to public administration. You and God, who planted you in the minds of wise men, are my witnesses: the only reason I took any office was a general desire to do good. This was why I had no choice but to grimly resist evil. In the struggle to defend justice, I have always been indifferent to the hatred I received from men who were more powerful than I. This indifference came from knowing I had freely followed my conscience.

Countless times I have opposed the attacks of Cunigast on the property of some defenseless person. Countless times I have stopped Triguilla, the Prefect of the Palace, from an injustice he had begun or already carried out. And countless times I have used my authority to protect miserable people from danger when they were hounded by the endless false accusations of greedy officials, driven by their continuous and unpunished lust for wealth. Nothing has ever moved me from justice to injustice. I have felt as much pain as the provinces themselves to see their fortunes ruined by private looting and public taxes. When the terrible famine came, a disastrous and inexplicable measure for a forced sale of food supplies was announced. It seemed designed to crush the province of Campania with poverty. I took up the fight against the Praetorian Prefect for the common good. Although the king knew of my actions, I succeeded in the struggle to block that sale.

Again, the corrupt officials at the palace, in their hope and ambition, had already practically swallowed up the wealth of an ex-consul named Paulinus. But I snatched him from their very jaws. Another ex-consul, Albinus, had been presumed guilty. I had to stand against the hatred of the Public Prosecutor, Cyprian, to save Albinus from punishment. You must surely agree that the opposition I stirred up against myself was considerable. But I should have been safer than others, because my love of justice meant I didn’t try to gain favors among the courtiers to protect myself.

Yet who were the informers who struck me down? One was Basilius. He had previously been dismissed from the royal service and was forced by his debts into accusing me. Two others were Opilio and Gaudentius. A royal decree had sentenced them to exile because of their countless frauds. To avoid this, they had sought protection by hiding in a sanctuary. When the king heard this, he proclaimed that unless they left the city of Ravenna by a certain day, they would be driven out with their foreheads branded. There could hardly be a more severe punishment than that! Yet on that very same day, they made accusations against me, and their charges were accepted. Surely my actions didn’t deserve that? And surely the fact that my conviction was decided in advance didn’t make my accusers just men? Fortune should have blushed to see an innocent man accused, or at least at the wickedness of my accusers.

But you want to know the main point of the charge against me. I am accused of having desired the safety of the Senate. And as for how I did this, I am accused of having prevented an informer from delivering certain papers. He intended to use these papers to show the Senate was guilty of treason. My Lady, tell me your advice: should I deny the charge to avoid causing you shame? But the fact is, I did desire the safety of the Senate, and I will never stop desiring it. Perhaps I should confess, except that my attempt to prevent the informer was not completed. Should I consider it a crime to have desired the safety of the Senate? They, at any rate, by their own decrees against me, have made it a crime. Foolishness may deceive itself, but it cannot change the true value of things. And the ruling of Socrates—that it is quite wrong to agree to falsehood and conceal truth—forbids me from either hiding the truth or being part of an untruth. But I leave it to you and to the wise to judge these events. I have committed them to writing to ensure they are remembered, and to preserve for future generations the true sequence of events.

As for the forged letters mentioned as evidence that I had hoped for the freedom of Rome, there is little point in speaking of them. It would have been obvious that they were forgeries if I had been allowed to use what carries the greatest weight in all such matters: the confession of the very informers themselves.

But there is no freedom left to hope for. If only there were! I would have replied with the same sharp answer that Canius gave to the Emperor Caligula. When Canius was accused of being involved in a plot against Caligula, he said, “If I had known of it, you would not have.” (Meaning, if he had known, Caligula would never have found out, implying either the plot’s success or Canius’s silence.)

Grief has not dulled my mind so much that I complain that wicked people have piled up their crimes against virtue. But what does fill me with wonder is that they have actually succeeded in their hopes. It may be a part of human weakness to have evil wishes. But it is nothing short of monstrous that God should look on while every criminal is allowed to achieve his purpose against the innocent. If this is so, it was hardly without reason that one of your own followers once asked: If there is a god, where does evil come from? And if there isn’t a god, where does good come from?

Even supposing there might have been some justice in the fact that the evil men who are out for the blood of all good men and of all the Senate also sought my own death when they saw me defending them. But surely I did not deserve the same treatment from the members of the Senate themselves? You remember, I am sure—since you were always present to guide me when I was preparing a speech or planning some action—you remember how at Verona a charge of treason was made against Albinus. You remember how the king, eager to see the total destruction of the Senate, tried to extend the charge to all of them, despite their universal innocence. And you remember how I defended them with complete indifference to any personal danger. You know that I am telling the truth and have never boasted about any of my good deeds. For whenever a man receives the reward of fame for his boasting, the conscience that indulges in self-congratulation loses some of its secret merit.

Boethius continues his lament to Philosophy: “And now you see what has come of my innocence. Instead of a reward for true goodness, I receive punishment for a crime I did not commit. Yet, even when a crime is confessed very clearly, no jury is ever so united in demanding the harshest penalty that some members aren’t softened. They might think of human weakness or how uncertain everyone’s luck can be. If I had been charged with planning to burn down sacred buildings, or plotting the sacrilegious murder of priests, or aiming to kill all worthy men, I would still have been brought to court. I would have either confessed or been found guilty before the sentence was carried out. But here I am, nearly five hundred miles away, condemned to death and to have my property taken away. I am silenced and have no opportunity to defend myself, all because I was perhaps too willing to support the Senate. They certainly deserve that no one should ever be convicted on a similar charge!

Even those who informed against me could see the dignity this charge gave me. To hide this dignity by adding some other charge, they falsely claimed that in my ambition for high office, I had stained my conscience with sacrilegious acts (acts disrespectful to God). But you, Philosophy, had taken up your dwelling within me. You used to drive every thought of human advancement from my mind. There could be no place for sacrilege when you were watching. You used to daily repeat in my ears and thoughts that Pythagorean maxim: ‘Follow God.’ And since you were there, lifting me up to such a high level of excellence as to make me like a god, it was hardly fitting for me to seek the help of the lowest kinds of spirits. Then there is my blameless life at home, my friendship with the most honorable men, and the holiness of Symmachus, my father-in-law—a man worthy of the same respect as you. All these things protect me against suspicion of this charge.

But the truly wicked thing is that they gain credibility for this terrible accusation because of you yourself, Philosophy! The very fact that I am soaked in your teaching and trained in your morality seems to them to prove that I have been engaged in evil practices. It is not enough that my devotion to you has not helped me at all. Now, you are made the victim of the hatred that should be directed at me alone. On top of all this, another burden is added to my load of troubles: the world does not judge actions on their merit, but on their chance results. People believe that only actions blessed with a happy outcome were undertaken with sound advice. It is always the unfortunate who are first abandoned by the goodwill of others.

I don’t want to recall all the rumors that are circulating and the clash of their many different opinions. I will just say that the final burden adversity heaps on its victims is this: when some accusation is made against them, people believe they deserved everything they suffer. And so, stripped of every possession, pushed out of my offices, and with my reputation in ruins, I have received punishment for doing a favor. I seem to see the wicked hideouts of criminals overflowing with happiness and joy. I seem to see all the most desperate men threatening new false accusations. I seem to see good men lying helpless with fear at the danger I am in. Meanwhile, all abandoned villains are encouraged to attempt every crime, expecting to get away with it or even hoping for a reward. And I seem to see the innocent deprived of peace and safety, and even of any chance to defend themselves.”

V. Boethius’s Prayer to the Creator

“Creator of the starry heavens, Lord on your everlasting throne, Your power turns the moving sky And makes the stars obey fixed laws. You make lesser stars grow dim Before the Moon’s reflected rays When she is opposite her bright kinsman, the Sun. Then, as she moves closer to the Sun, She loses all her borrowed light. You cause the Evening Star to rise, Cold and clear in the early night, And then, as the Morning Star, to change its role, Growing pale before the new sun’s light.

When Winter’s cold has stripped the trees of leaves, You keep the daylight hours short. When Summer comes with burning heat, You give swifter hours to the night. Your power rules the changing year: The tender leaves the North wind stole, The Spring West wind makes reappear. The seeds that Winter saw newly sown, The Summer burns as crops fully grown.

All things obey their ancient law, And all perform their proper tasks. You hold all things within strict bounds. Only human actions are denied Your fitting control as Lord of all. Why else does slippery Fortune change So much, and punishment more fit For crime oppress the innocent? Corrupt men sit enthroned on high; By a strange reversal, wickedness Treads down the necks of holy men. Bright virtue lies in dark eclipse, Hidden by clouds, and unjust men Heap condemnation on the just. There is no punishment for perjury Or lies dressed up with attractive words. Wicked men use their power when they please, And love to bring down great kings Whose rule holds countless people in fear.

Oh You, who bind all things together, Look down on all earth’s wretchedness. Of this great work of Yours, is humanity so mean A part, to be tossed about by Fortune? Lord, hold the rushing waves of misfortune in check, And with the same bond You use to rule the stars, Make stable all the lands of earth.”

Philosophy Responds to Boethius’s Lament

Throughout this long and emotional outpouring of grief, Philosophy remained calm and undisturbed. When I had finished, she looked at me serenely and said: “The moment I saw your sad and tear-stained face, I knew you had been reduced to the misery of exile. But unless you had told me, I still would not have known how far you had been exiled. However, it is not simply that you have been banished far from your home. You have wandered away yourself. Or, if you prefer to think you were banished, it is you yourself who caused it. No one else could ever have done that to you. For if you remember the true country you come from, it is not governed by majority rule like ancient Athens. Instead, to quote Homer, ‘One is its lord and one its king.’ This King prefers to have many subjects rather than banishing them. Submitting to His governance and obeying His laws is true freedom. You seem to have forgotten the oldest law of your community: any person who has chosen to make his home there has the sacred right never to be banished. So, no one within its walls and defenses need fear exile. On the other hand, if anyone stops wanting to live there, he automatically stops deserving to be there.

And so, it is not the sight of this place that concerns me, but your own appearance. It is not the walls of your library, with their glass and ivory decorations, that I am looking for, but the seat of your mind. That is the place where I once stored away—not my books, but—the thing that gives them any value: the philosophy they contain.

As for what you said about your services to the common good, it was a small account considering the great number of things you have done. Your talk about whether the charges against you are true or false is already known to many. You were right to think that the crimes and deceptions of your accusers needed only a brief mention, since they are the constant talk of the people, who know every detail even better. Then you spoke with great passion about the Senate’s unjust behavior, and you spoke with grief about my name being included in the accusations. You wept tears at the damage done to my injured reputation. And last of all, with your anger flaring up against Fortune, you bitterly complained that rewards are not given out according to merit. In your final angry verses, you prayed that the same peace that rules in the heavens should also rule on earth.

In your current state of mind, while this great storm of emotion has overcome you, and you are torn in different directions by waves of grief, anger, and anguish, it is hardly the time for the more powerful remedies. I will use gentler medicines first. It is as if your mind has become swollen and hardened under the influence of these disturbing passions. These gentler medicines, by their mild action, will prepare you to receive the strength of a sharper treatment later.”

VI. Philosophy’s Song of Right Timing

“If, when the summer sun is at its peak, Bringing scorching heat with the sign of the Crab, The farmer sows his wheat in furrows That refuse the seed because the ground is too dry, No crops will spring up to make him happy, And he will have to eat acorns instead.

You would not search the cheerful woods To pick a springtime flower When all the shivering countryside groans Before the North Wind’s power.

Nor would you seek with a greedy hand To pluck your grapes from the vines in May; The wine god Bacchus gives his gift of grapes When Autumn is on its way.

For God has fixed the tasks for every season, And each season receives its proper due. No power is free to disrupt The order God has established. If, then, some being should rashly try To leave its proper place or act out of turn, The Lord would not allow its rebellion To meet with success.”

Philosophy Begins Her Diagnosis

“First, then, will you let me discover your state of mind and test it with a few simple questions? That way I can find the best method to cure you.” “Ask what you like,” I replied, “and I will answer.”

“Do you believe,” Philosophy asked, “that this life consists of haphazard and chance events, or do you think it is governed by some rational principle?” “I could never believe,” I said, “that events with such regularity are due to the randomness of chance. In fact, I know that God the Creator watches over His creation. The day will never come when I abandon this true belief.”

“That is true,” she said. “And indeed, it is the very thing you were singing about just now when you were complaining that only humankind is outside God’s care. It was your firm conviction that all other things were governed by reason. So, how you can be sick when you hold such a healthy belief is quite beyond my understanding. However, let us examine this more deeply. I feel there is something missing somewhere. Tell me, then, since you have no doubts that the world is governed by God, by what means do you think He guides it?”

“I can’t answer that question,” I replied, “because I don’t understand what it means.”

“I was right, then,” she said, “in thinking that something was missing. Your defenses have been breached, and your mind has been invaded by the fever of emotional distraction. So tell me, do you remember what is the end and purpose of all things, and the goal to which the whole of Nature is directed?” “I did hear it once,” I said, “but my memory has been dulled by grief.”

“Well, do you know the source from which all things come?” “Yes,” I replied, and said that it was God.

“How can it be, then, that you know the beginning of things but don’t know their end? The strange thing about these mental disturbances is that they have just enough power to move a person from his usual position, but they can’t quite throw him over and totally uproot him. I want you to answer this too: do you remember that you are a man?” “Why shouldn’t I remember that?” I said.

“Can you, then, tell me what a man is?” “Are you asking me if I know that man is a rational and mortal animal? I do know it, and I acknowledge that that is what I am.”

“Are you sure you are not something more?” “Quite sure.”

“Now I know the other cause, or rather the major cause, of your illness: you have forgotten your true nature. And so, I have found out in full the reason for your sickness and the way to approach the task of restoring you to health. It is because you are confused by loss of memory that you wept and claimed you had been banished and robbed of all your possessions. And it is because you don’t know the end and purpose of things that you think wicked and criminal people have power and happiness. And because you have forgotten the means by which the world is governed, you believe these ups and downs of fortune happen randomly. These are grave causes, and they lead not only to illness but even to death. Thanks, however, to the Author of all health, your true nature has not quite abandoned you. In your correct belief about the world’s government—that it is subject to divine reason and not the randomness of chance—there lies our greatest hope of rekindling your health. So, you need have no fears, now that this tiny spark has blazed with the fire of life. Still, as it is not yet time for stronger medicine, I will try to lessen this fog little by little. It is generally believed that the nature of the mind is such that for every true belief it rejects, it accepts a false one. From these false beliefs, the fog of distraction rises and blocks out true insight. I will apply gentle remedies of only medium strength. In this way, the darkness of the ever-treacherous passions may be dispelled, and you will be able to see the splendid light of truth.”

VII. Philosophy’s Song on Clearing the Mind

“When hidden in dark clouds, The stars can shed no light. If boisterous winds Stir up the sea, Causing a storm, Waves once crystal clear Like peaceful days, Soon turn murky And thick with mud, Preventing the eye From piercing the water.

Streams that wander From high hills, Flowing downwards, Often dash Against a rock Torn from the hillside.

If you desire To look upon truth And follow its path With an unswerving course, Rid yourself Of joy and fear, Put hope to flight, And banish grief. The mind is clouded And bound in chains Where these emotions hold sway.”

Book II

I. Philosophy Diagnoses Boethius’s Longing for Lost Fortune

After this, Philosophy fell silent for a moment. Her calm silence made me pay closer attention to her. Then she began to speak again.

“If I have correctly understood the cause and nature of your condition,” she said, “you are wasting away because you long for your former good fortune. It is the loss of this good fortune, as your mind dwells on it, that has so corrupted your thinking. I know the many disguises of that monster, Fortune. I know how much she charms people with friendship, the very people she plans to cheat. She does this until she suddenly abandons them, overwhelming them with unbearable grief.

If you can remember her character, her methods, and the kinds of favors she offers, you will see that you didn’t have anything valuable in her, and so you didn’t lose anything of value when she left. I am sure it won’t take much effort for me to help you recall all this. It used to be your way, whenever she came near with her flattery, to attack her with strong arguments. You would criticize her with statements taken from my own wise teachings. However, no sudden change in circumstances ever happens without some disturbance in the mind. That is why you, too, have temporarily lost your usual calmness.

So, it is time for you to take a little mild and pleasant nourishment. This nourishment, when absorbed, will prepare you for stronger medicine later. Let us use the persuasive powers of sweet-sounding rhetoric—though these powers quickly go off the true path unless they follow my instructions. And let us also have Music, the servant-girl of my house, sing us melodies with different moods.

What is it, then, O mortal man, that has thrown you down into this swamp of grief and despair? You must have seen something strange and unexpected. But you are wrong if you think Fortune has changed in how she treats you. Change is her normal behavior; it is her true nature. In the very act of changing, she has kept her own particular kind of consistency toward you. She was exactly the same when she was flattering you and luring you with the promise of a false kind of happiness. You have now discovered the changing faces of this random goddess. To other people, she still hides her true self, but to you, she has revealed herself completely. If you are satisfied with her ways, you must accept them and not complain. But if you tremble to think of her unreliability, you must turn away and have nothing more to do with her dangerous games.

She has caused you immense sorrow, even though she should have been a source of peace. She has left you, and no one can ever trust her to stay. Do you really hold dear a kind of happiness that is destined to pass away? Do you really value the presence of Fortune when you cannot trust her to remain, and when her departure will plunge you into sorrow? If it is impossible to keep her when you want to, and if her leaving brings people to ruin, what else is such a fleeting thing except a warning of coming disaster? It will never be enough just to notice what is right in front of you; true wisdom considers what the outcome of things will be. Either way, Fortune’s constant changing deprives her threats of their terror and her attractions of their appeal.

And last of all, once you have bowed your neck under her control, you ought to bear with calmness whatever happens in Fortune’s playground. If, after freely choosing her as the mistress to rule your life, you now want to create a law to control her coming and going, you will be acting without any justification. Your very impatience will only worsen a situation that you cannot change. If you commit your boat to the winds, you must sail whichever way they blow, not just where you want to go. If you were a farmer who entrusts his seeds to the fields, you would balance the bad years against the good ones. So now that you have committed yourself to the rule of Fortune, you must accept her ways. If you are trying to stop her wheel from turning, you are the most foolish of all men. For if it once begins to stop, it will no longer be the wheel of chance.”

Fortune’s Turning Wheel (A Poem)

Philosophy continued with a song: “With a controlling hand, she moves the turning wheel, Like currents in a dangerous bay, always shifting. Her ruthless will has just overthrown once-feared kings, While, still untrustworthy, she lifts a conquered person from a low state. She hears no cries of misery, she pays no attention to tears, But with a heart of steel, she laughs at the groans her actions have caused. Such is the game she plays, and so she tests her strength. She makes a show of her mighty power when, in one short hour, Happiness grows out of utter desolation.”

II. Philosophy Speaks as Fortune

“I would like to continue our discussion for a while by using Fortune’s own arguments,” Philosophy said. “I would like you to consider whether her demands are just.”

Then, speaking as if she were Fortune herself, she said: “Why do you burden me each day with your complaining accusations, mortal man? What harm have I done you? What possessions of yours have I stolen? Choose any judge you like and sue me for ownership of wealth and rank. If you can show that any part of these truly belongs by right to any mortal man, I will willingly agree that what you are trying to regain really did belong to you.

When nature brought you out of your mother’s womb, I received you naked and lacking everything. I fed you from my own resources. I was inclined to favor you. I brought you up with a good deal of indulgence, surrounding you with all the splendor and wealth I could command—and this is what makes you lose patience with me now. Now, I have decided to take back my hand. You have been receiving a favor, like someone who has had the use of another’s possessions. You have no right to complain as if what you have lost was fully your own. You have no reason to start groaning at me; I have done you no violence. Wealth, honors, and similar things are all under my control. They are my servants and they know their mistress. When I come, they come with me, and when I go, they leave as well. I can say with confidence that if the things whose loss you are mourning were really yours, you could never have lost them.

Surely I am not the only one who should be denied the use of my own rights? The heavens are allowed to bring forth bright daylight and then let it rest in the darkness of night. The year is allowed to decorate the face of the earth with fruit and flowers, and then to make it ugly with clouds and cold. The sea is allowed to be calm and inviting, or to rage with storm-driven waves. Shall humanity’s endless greed bind me to a consistency that is foreign to my ways? Inconsistency is my very essence; it is the game I never stop playing as I turn my wheel in its ever-changing circle. I am filled with joy as I bring the top to the bottom and the bottom to the top.

Yes, rise up on my wheel if you like. But don’t consider it an injury when, by the same logic, you begin to fall, as the rules of the game will require. You must surely have been aware of my ways. You must have heard of Croesus, king of Lydia. He was once able to terrorize his enemy Cyrus, but later he was reduced to misery and condemned to be burnt alive; only a shower of rain saved him. And you must have heard of Aemilius Paulus and how he wept with pity for all the disasters that had overwhelmed his prisoner, Perses, the last king of Macedonia. Isn’t this what tragedy writes about with its tears and drama—the overthrow of happy kingdoms by the random strokes of Fortune? When you were a little boy, you must have heard Homer’s story of the two jars standing in God’s house, one full of evil and the other of good.

Now, you have had more than your share of the good things. But have I completely deserted you? Indeed, my very changeable nature gives you good reason to hope for better things. So you should not wear yourself out by insisting on living according to a law of your own, in a world that is shared by everyone.”

Humanity’s Insatiable Greed (A Poem by Fortune)

Fortune continued her song: “If Plenty, from her well-stocked horn, With a generous hand, should distribute As many gifts as grains of sand The sea churns up when strong winds blow, Or as many as stars that shine on starlit nights, The human race would still repeat Its complaining cries.

Though God should satisfy their prayers With open-handed gifts of gold And adorn their greed with high rank, All that God gave would seem like nothing. Greedy desire soon swallows everything And opens other gaping mouths. No reins will serve to hold in check The headlong course of appetite, Once such generosity has fanned the flames Of lust to have and to hold. No man is rich who shakes and groans, Convinced that he needs more.”

III. Boethius Responds; Philosophy Recounts His Past Fortunes

“If Fortune herself had been speaking,” Philosophy said to Boethius, “she would have left you without a single word you could say in reply. But if there is some argument you can offer as a just defense for your complaints, you must present it, and we will listen.”

And so, it was my turn to speak. “Everything you have said,” I began, “is certainly believable and well-sweetened with the honey of rhetoric and music. But it is only while one is actually listening that one feels pleasure. For those who are wretched, the pain of their suffering goes deeper. So as soon as your words stop sounding in our ears, the mind is weighed down again by its deep-seated sadness.”

“That is true,” she replied. “None of this is meant to be a cure for your condition. It is simply a kind of treatment to help soothe a grief that is still resistant to stronger remedies. When the time comes, I will apply something designed to penetrate deep inside. In the meantime, stop thinking of yourself as plunged in misery. Have you forgotten how fortunate you have been in many ways? I will not focus on it, but when you were orphaned as a child, you were taken into the care of men of the highest rank. You were chosen to marry into families that boasted the state’s most distinguished citizens. Even before you became their relative, you had begun to win their love, and that is the most precious kind of kinship of all. Everyone would have called you the luckiest man in the world, considering the glory reflected from your new connections, the modesty of your wife, and the blessings your two sons proved to be.

I don’t want to waste time on ordinary matters, so I will pass over the various honors you received while still a young man—honors that are denied to most men at any age. I want to come straight to the outstanding peak of your fortune. If the enjoyment of any earthly blessing brings any amount of happiness, the memory of that splendid day can never be destroyed by the burden of growing evil, no matter how great that burden is. I mean the day that you saw your two sons carried forth from your house to become consuls together, surrounded by crowding senators and the joyful people. That was the day they took their official seats in the senate chamber to listen to you delivering the speech of congratulation to the king. It was the day they saw your brilliant public speaking receive its highest recognition. On that same day, you sat in the stadium between the two consuls and, as if it were a military triumph, your generosity fulfilled the wildest expectations of the people packed in their seats around you.

In my opinion,” Philosophy continued, “you charmed Fortune with flattering words as long as you had her affection and she cherished you as her favorite. And you went away with a gift never before given to any private individual. Perhaps you would like to settle your account with her? You will find this is the very first time she has looked at you with an unfriendly eye. If you thought about all the things that have happened to you—what kind of things they were, and whether they were happy or unhappy—you would not be able to say you have not been fortunate up to now. On the other hand, if you do not consider yourself to have been lucky because your past reasons for rejoicing have disappeared, then you cannot now think of yourself as miserable, because the very things that seem miserable are also passing away.

Why behave like a stranger newly arrived on the stage of life? You know there is no constancy in human affairs, when a single swift hour can often bring a man to nothing. Even if you can’t expect any permanence in a life full of chance events, on the last day of one’s life, Fortune effectively ‘dies’ too, even if she seems to stay with you, because her influence ends. What difference do you think it makes whether you leave her by dying, or she leaves you by abandoning you?”

The Law of Constant Change (A Poem)

Philosophy sang: “When Phoebus, the sun, in his ruby chariot Begins to spread his light through heaven, Then every pale-faced star Grows dim before his bright radiance.

The woodlands, at the breath of spring, Wear crimson-colored roses. But if the cold wind blows its icy blasts, The thorns will be left bare of beauty.

Often the sea lies calm and still, Its shimmering waves at rest. And often the north wind churns the deep With raging storms and mad unrest.

The world rarely stays the same for long, So great is its instability. So, should you put your faith in fleeting luck, And trust in wealth that cannot last? It is decreed by eternal law That nothing is ever free from change.”

IV. The Nature of True Happiness and Misery

“Everything you say is true,” I agreed. “You truly are the mother of all virtues, and I cannot deny how quickly I rose to prosperity. It is that very fact, in fact, that makes me burn with grief as I remember it. In all the hardships of fortune, the most wretched kind of misery is to have once been happy.”

“But you are suffering because of your misguided belief, and you can’t blame events for that,” she replied. “If you are really so moved by the empty name of chance happiness, you can count up with me now the many very great blessings you still enjoy. And if you find that you still possess the thing that, among all the gifts of Fortune, was most precious to you—and find it, through God’s power, unharmed and still untouched—you will hardly be able to talk about misfortune with any justice while you still possess such outstanding blessings.

Take your father-in-law, Symmachus. He is one of the most precious treasures of the human race. He is still full of energy and—something you would willingly pay for with your own life—he is a man wholly composed of wisdom and virtue. He disregards his own sufferings and weeps for yours. Your wife, too, is alive. She is a lady unsurpassed in nobility and modesty of character. To sum up all her qualities in a word, I would say she is the mirror image of her father. She is, as I say, still alive. In her weariness with this life, she draws every breath for you alone. She longs for you and is consumed with tears and suffering—this is one thing in which I would admit that your happiness is diminished. I don’t know what more to add about your sons, who are consuls. Now, just as when they were boys, they reflect the good character of their father and grandfather.

You are a happy man, then, if you know where your true happiness lies. Since the chief concern of mortal men is to keep their hold on life, you even now possess blessings which no one can doubt are more precious than life itself. So dry your tears. Fortune has not yet turned her hatred against all your blessings. The storm has not yet broken upon you with too much violence. Your anchors are holding firm, and they allow you both comfort in the present and hope in the future.”

“And I pray that they will hold,” I said. “As long as they do, we will ride the storm out. But look how much things have changed since the time of my glory.”

“If you are no longer dissatisfied with your entire fortune, we have made a little progress,” she said. “But I can’t put up with your delaying and the way you dramatize your care-worn, grief-stricken complaints that something is lacking from your happiness. No person is so completely happy that something, somewhere, does not clash with their condition. It is the nature of human affairs to be filled with anxiety; they never prosper perfectly, and they never remain constant.

• In one person’s case, you will find riches offset by the shame of a humble birth.
• In another’s, noble birth is offset by unwelcome public attention because of crippling family poverty.
• Some people are blessed with both wealth and noble birth but are unhappy because they have no wife.
• Some are happily married but have no children, and they save their money for an heir who is not their own blood.
• Some again have been blessed with children, only to weep over their misdeeds.

No one finds it easy to accept the lot Fortune has assigned them. There is something in each of our situations that escapes the notice of someone who has not experienced it, but causes horror to the person who has. Remember, too, that all the most fortunate people are overly sensitive. They have never experienced adversity. So, unless everything obeys their slightest whim, they are devastated by every minor upset. That shows how trivial the things are that can detract from the complete happiness of a person at the peak of fortune. How many people do you think would believe themselves almost in heaven if they possessed even the smallest part of the luck you still enjoy? This very place, which is exile to you, is home to those who live here. So, nothing is miserable except when you think it so. Conversely, all luck is good luck to the person who bears it with calmness. No one is so happy that they would not want to change their situation if they give in to impatience. Such is the bittersweet nature of human happiness. To the one who enjoys it, it may seem full of delight, but they cannot prevent it from slipping away when it chooses to. It is clear, therefore, how miserable the happiness of human life is: it does not stay long with those who are patient, and it doesn’t satisfy those who are troubled.”

“Why then do you mortal people seek happiness outside yourselves, when it actually lies within you? You are led astray by mistakes and lack of knowledge. I will briefly show you what complete happiness depends on. If I ask you whether there is anything more precious to you than your own self, you will say no. So, if you are in possession of yourself, you will possess something you would never wish to lose. It would also be something Fortune could never take away.

To see that happiness cannot consist in things governed by chance, think about it this way:

• Happiness is the highest good for a rational being.
• Anything that can be taken away is not the highest good. This is because something that cannot be taken away is better.
• Therefore, Fortune, because she is so changeable, cannot lead to true happiness.

Again, consider a man who is carried along by a happiness that can fail at any time. He either knows or does not know that this happiness is unreliable.

• If he does not know it, what kind of happiness can there be in the blindness of ignorance?
• If he does know it, he cannot avoid being afraid of losing what he knows can be lost. So, a continuous fear prevents him from being happy.
• And if he thinks the possibility of losing it doesn’t matter much, then the good whose loss can be borne so calmly must be very small indeed.

Furthermore, I know you are a man who has been fully convinced by countless proofs that the human mind cannot die. It is also clear that happiness depending on chance ends when the body dies. So, it seems certain that if this chance-dependent happiness is all that can bring pleasure, then the entire human race falls into misery at death. Yet we know that many people have sought the enjoyment of happiness through death, and even through suffering and torment. It seems that a happiness which cannot make people unhappy when it ends, also cannot make them truly happy when it is present.”

Building a Secure Home (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “A careful person will want To build a lasting home, One that cannot be shaken by winds That thunder from the East. They will avoid the open sea That threatens with its waves. They will choose no mountain peaks Which are battered by all the strength Of winds from the South. They will choose no thirsty sands That sink and shift away Beneath a building’s weight.

They will flee the dangerous situation Of sites that only please the eye, And build securely on low, solid rock. Though thunderous winds may roar And stir up the churning sea, You will be hidden away in peace, Sure of your strong-built walls. You will lead a calm life And smile at the raging storm.”

V. The True Value of Fortune’s Gifts

“But the ways of reasoning I have been using on you are beginning to sink in,” Philosophy continued. “The time has come, I think, for something rather stronger. So then, even if the gifts that Fortune offers were not fleeting and short-lived, tell me: which of them can ever truly belong to you? Or which of them does not show its worthlessness after a moment’s thoughtful consideration?

What Makes Riches Precious?

Are riches precious because they belong to you, or because of some quality they have on their own? And which is better: the gold itself, or the power that comes from hoarded wealth? Yet, being stingy always makes people hated, while being generous wins them popularity. So, it is by spending rather than hoarding that people win a better reputation. Now, if something that is transferred to another person cannot remain with its first owner, it is only when money is transferred to others through generosity—and stops being possessed—that it becomes valuable. If all this same money were ever collected from wherever it is among people into the possession of one man, it would make all the rest poor. When you speak, your whole voice fills the ears of many listeners equally. But your riches cannot be shared equally among many people without becoming smaller. When riches are shared among many, it is inevitable that they make poorer those from whom they pass. How poor and empty riches really are, then, is clear. It is impossible for many to share them undiminished, or for one person to possess them without reducing all others to poverty.

The Allure of Precious Stones

Perhaps your eyes are attracted by the way precious stones reflect light. But if there is any special quality in this brilliance, it is in the light of the stones themselves, not of men. So, I am astonished that men can admire them. Surely there is nothing that lacks life to give it movement, and lacks structure, which a living, rational being can justifiably consider beautiful. Such things may be works of the Creator and may draw some minimal beauty from their own decorative nature. But they are of a lower rank than you, a more excellent creature, and cannot in any way deserve your admiration.

The Beauty of the Countryside

Perhaps, again, you find pleasure in the beauty of the countryside. Creation is indeed very beautiful, and the countryside is a beautiful part of creation. In the same way, we are sometimes delighted by the appearance of the sea when it’s very calm. We also look up with wonder at the sky, the stars, the moon, and the sun. However, not one of these has anything to do with you. You dare not take credit for the splendor of any of them. The fact that flowers blossom in spring gives no special distinction to you. The swelling fullness of the autumn harvest is not your work. You are, in fact, carried away by empty joys. You embrace blessings that are foreign to you as if they were your own. I ask you, why? For Fortune can never make yours what Nature has made foreign to you. Of course, the fruits of the land are intended as food for living beings. But if you wish only to satisfy your needs—and that is all Nature requires—there is no need to seek an excess from Fortune. Nature is content with few and little. If you try to force unnecessary additions upon what is sufficient for Nature, your excess will become sickening, if not harmful.

Splendid Clothing and Attendants

Perhaps you think that beauty means being magnificent in clothing of every variety. But if the clothing catches my eye, my admiration will be for either the quality of the material or the skill of the tailor, not for you. If you take pleasure in having a long line of attendants to wait on you, there are two points to consider:

• Either they are dishonest, in which case your household is nothing less than a dangerous burden and a positive threat to its master.
• Or they are honest, and other people’s honesty can hardly be counted among your own possessions.

From all this, it is obvious that not one of those things which you count among your blessings is in fact any blessing of your own at all. And if, then, they don’t contain a spark of beauty worth seeking, why weep over their loss or rejoice at their preservation? If Nature gives them their beauty, how does that involve you? They would still have been pleasing by themselves, even if separated from your possessions. It isn’t because they are part of your wealth that they are precious. It is because you thought them precious that you wanted to add them to the sum of your riches.

The True Nature of Wanting

What, in fact, are you looking for in all this outcry against Fortune? Are you trying to drive away poverty with plenty? If so, it has turned out the very opposite. The more varied your precious possessions are, the more help you need to protect them. The old saying is proved correct: he who has much, wants much. And the contrary is true as well: he needs least who measures wealth according to the needs of nature, and not according to the excesses of showing off.

It seems as if you feel a lack of any true blessing of your own inside you. This feeling is driving you to seek your blessings in things separate and external to yourself. And so, when a being who is endowed with a godlike quality because of his rational nature thinks that his only splendor lies in possessing lifeless goods, it is an overthrow of the natural order. Other creatures are content with what is their own. But you, whose mind is made in the image of God, seek to decorate your superior nature with inferior objects. You are oblivious of the great wrong you do to your Creator. It was His will that the human race should rule all earthly creatures. But you have degraded yourself to a position beneath the lowest of all. If every good is agreed to be more valuable than whatever it belongs to, then by your own judgment, when you consider the most worthless objects as your goods, you make yourself lower than those very things. And that is no less than you deserve.

Indeed, the condition of human nature is just this: a man towers above the rest of creation as long as he recognizes his own nature. But when he forgets it, he sinks lower than the beasts. For other living things to be ignorant of themselves is natural; but for man, it is a defect. What an obvious mistake to make—to think that anything can be enhanced by decoration that does not truly belong to it! It’s impossible. For if there is anything striking in the decoration, that is what is praised, while the veiled and hidden object continues just the same in all its unattractiveness.

My point is that no truly good thing harms its owner—a statement you won’t deny. But wealth very often does harm its owners. All the most criminal elements of the population, who are therefore all the more greedy for other people’s property, are convinced that they alone are worthy to possess all the gold and precious stones there are. You are shuddering now at the thought of being attacked with a club or a knife. But if you had set out on the path of this life with empty pockets, you would whistle your way past any highwayman. How splendid, then, is the blessing of mortal riches! Once you have them, they never leave you carefree again.”

A Song of a Simpler Age

Philosophy then sang: “Oh, happy was that long-lost age, Content with nature’s faithful fruits, Which knew no lazy luxury. They would not eat before it was time, Their meal of acorns quickly found. They did not know the clever trick Of making honey sweeten wine, Or how the power of Tyrian dyes Could color shining silken cloth.

A grassy couch gave healthy sleep, A gliding river, healthy drink. The tallest pine tree gave them shade. Men did not plunder all the world And cut a path across the seas With merchandise for foreign shores. War horns were silent in those days, And blood was not spilt in bitter hate To horrify the reddening earth. What reason then for hatred, To seek the frenzied clash of arms, When all men saw were gaping wounds Without any return for blood so spilt?

Would that our age could now return To those pure ways of leading life! But now the passion to possess Burns fiercer than Mount Etna’s fire. Alas for the man, whoever he was, Who first dug up heaps of buried gold And diamonds that were content to hide, And gave us perils of such great price!”

VI. The True Nature of Power and High Office

“I should like to say something about the honors of high office and the exercise of power,” Philosophy continued. “But I am at a loss because, in your ignorance of the true nature of power and honors, people like you praise yourselves to high heaven because of the offices they hold. Now, whenever high office has fallen into the hands of wicked men, the disaster has been greater than a flood or a volcanic eruption. You remember, I am sure, how your ancestors wanted to abolish the consulship—even though it had been a principle of freedom—because of the arrogance of the consuls. Just as before that, the same arrogance had led them to abolish the title of king. If, on the other hand, the very rare case arises when these offices fall to honest men, surely the only aspect of them which is approved is the honesty of the men who hold the offices. It follows, if this is so, that honor is not given to virtue because of the office held, but to the office because of the virtue of the holder.

However, let us examine this much-praised and much-sought-after power of yours. You creatures of earth, don’t you stop to consider the people over whom you think you exercise authority? You would laugh if you saw a community of mice and one mouse claiming power and jurisdiction over the others. Again, think of the human body: could you discover anything more feeble than a human being, when often even a tiny fly can kill him, either by its bite or by creeping into some internal part of him? The only way one man can exercise power over another is over his body and what is inferior to it—his possessions. You cannot impose anything on a free mind. You cannot move from its state of inner calm a mind that is at peace with itself and firmly founded on reason.

The tyrant Nearchus thought he would be able to torture the philosopher Zeno into betraying his fellow conspirators in a plot against him. But Zeno bit off his own tongue and threw it in the face of the enraged tyrant. Nearchus had thought the tortures would be an occasion for cruelty, but Zeno made them an opportunity for heroism. There is nothing, in fact, that one man can do to another, which he cannot himself suffer at the hands of someone else. We have the story of how the Egyptian king Busiris used to put strangers to death, until he himself was killed by a stranger—Hercules. And in the First Punic War, your general Regulus put chains on many Carthaginian prisoners of war. But not long afterwards, he himself was holding out his own hands to receive a conqueror’s chains. Can you, then, consider it power at all, when a man cannot ensure that someone else does not inflict on him what he can inflict on others?

Furthermore, if there was some natural and inherent good in these honors and powers, they would never fall into the hands of evil men. Incompatible things do not usually associate, and nature rejects the combination of opposites. There is no doubt, then, that for the most part, it is evil men who hold these offices. It is therefore clear that these positions are not inherently good, since they allow themselves to be associated with evil men. The same may be properly concluded in the case of all Fortune’s gifts, since they fall in greater abundance on all the most wicked people.

There is another point to be considered about them. No one doubts that a man in whom he has seen evidence of bravery is brave. A man gifted with speed is clearly speedy. In the same way, music makes a man a musician, medicine makes him a doctor, and rhetoric makes him an orator. For it is the nature of anything to perform the function proper to it. It does not get mixed up in the operations of contrary things and actually repels opposites. But riches are unable to satisfy endless greed. Power does not make a man master of himself if he is imprisoned by the unbreakable chains of wicked desires. And when high office is given to unworthy men, far from making them worthy, it only betrays them and reveals their unworthiness. The reason for this is that you are accustomed to using the wrong words to refer to things which are by nature otherwise. This is easily proved by their very effects. So, neither riches, power, nor high office can properly be called by these grand names. And lastly, we may reach the same conclusion about Fortune as a whole. She has nothing worth pursuing and no trace of inherent good. She never associates with good men, and she does not turn into good men those with whom she does associate.”

Nero’s Destructive Power (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang of Nero: “We know the ruin Nero caused When Rome was set on fire and great men killed. By a brother’s hand his own brother was slain. He dripped with blood from his mother, whom he also spilled. He rolled a practiced eye over her corpse With never a tear to wet his cheek, A cool connoisseur of beauty cold.

The empire that he held in his control Extended then from the eastern dawn To where the sun sinks at the close of day. Its northern reach was where the two Bears constellations stand, Its southern bounds where the parched south wind Burns and bakes the arid sand. Could this high power, stretched east and west, Check Nero’s frenzied lunacy? Too often Fate, hated by all, To savage poison adds the sword.”

VII. The Emptiness of Fame

Then I spoke to her and said that she was well aware of how little I had been governed by worldly ambition. I had sought the opportunity to engage in politics so that virtue should not grow old without being praised.

“And that,” she replied, “is the one thing that could attract minds gifted with natural excellence, though not yet perfected with the finishing touch of complete virtue—the desire for glory, the thought of being famous for the noblest services to the state. But just think how puny and insignificant such fame really is. It is well known, and you have seen it demonstrated by astronomers, that beside the vast extent of the heavens, the entire circumference of the earth has the size of a mere point. That is to say, compared with the magnitude of the celestial sphere, the earth may be thought of as having no extent at all. The surface of the world, then, is small enough. And of this small surface, as you have learned from the geographer Ptolemy, approximately only one quarter is inhabited by living beings known to us. If from this quarter you subtract in your mind all that is covered by sea and marshes, and the vast area made desert by lack of moisture, then scarcely the smallest of regions is left for people to live in.

This is the tiny point within a point, shut in and hedged about, in which you think of spreading your fame and extending your renown. Can glory constricted within such tight and narrow confines truly have any breadth or splendor? Remember, too, that this same narrow enclosure in which we live is the home of many nations. These nations differ in language, customs, and their whole way of life.”

“Why then do you mortal people seek happiness outside yourselves, when it actually lies within you? You are led astray by your mistakes and your lack of knowledge. I will briefly show you what complete happiness really depends on. If I ask you whether there is anything more precious to you than your own self, you will say no. So, if you are in true possession of yourself, you will possess something you would never wish to lose. It would also be something Fortune could never take away from you.

To understand that happiness cannot consist in things governed by chance, think about it this way:

• True happiness is the highest good for a rational being.
• Anything that can be taken away from you is not the highest good. This is because something that cannot be taken away is obviously better.
• Therefore, Fortune, simply because she is so changeable, cannot lead to true happiness.

Again, think about a person who relies on a type of happiness that can disappear at any moment. That person either knows or does not know that this happiness is unreliable.

• If they do not know it, what kind of happiness can exist in the blindness of ignorance?
• If they do know it, they cannot avoid being afraid of losing something they know can be lost. So, a constant fear prevents them from being happy.
• And if they think the possibility of losing it doesn’t matter much, then the ‘good’ whose loss can be accepted so calmly must be very small indeed.

Furthermore, I know you are a man who has been fully convinced by many proofs that the human mind cannot die. It is also clear that happiness which depends on chance ends when the body dies. So, it seems certain that if this chance-dependent happiness is the only kind that can bring pleasure, then the entire human race falls into misery at death. Yet we know that many people have sought the enjoyment of happiness through death, and even through suffering and torment. This suggests that a ‘happiness’ which does not make people unhappy when it ends, also cannot truly make them happy when it is present.”

Building a Secure Home (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “A wise person will want To build a lasting home, One that cannot be shaken by winds That thunder from the East. They will avoid the open sea That threatens with its waves. They will choose no mountain peaks Which all the strength of winds Batter and beat from the South. They will choose no thirsty sands That sink and melt away Beneath the building’s weight.

They will flee the dangerous appeal Of sites that only please the eye, And build securely on low, solid rock. Though thunderous winds may roar And churn the seething sea, You will be hidden away in peace, Sure of your strong-built walls. You will live a calm life And smile at the raging storm.”

V. The True Worthlessness of Fortune’s Gifts

“But the kinds of reasoning I have been using on you are beginning to sink in,” Philosophy continued. “The time has come, I think, for something rather stronger. So then, even if the gifts that Fortune offers were not temporary and short-lived, tell me: which one among them can ever truly belong to you? Or which one’s worthlessness is not revealed by just a moment’s thoughtful consideration?

The Illusion of Riches

What makes riches precious? Is it the fact that they belong to you, or some quality they have on their own? And which is better: the gold itself, or the power that comes from hoarded wealth? Yet, if being stingy always makes people hated, while being generous wins them popularity, it is by spending rather than hoarding that people earn a better reputation. Now, if something that is transferred to another person cannot remain with its first owner, it is only when money is given to others through generosity—and is no longer possessed—that it becomes valuable. If all this same money were ever collected from everyone who has it into the possession of one single person, it would make all the rest poor. When you speak, your whole voice fills the ears of many listeners to an equal extent. But your riches cannot be shared equally among many people without becoming smaller. When riches are divided among many, they inevitably make poorer those from whom they pass. So, it’s clear how poor and barren riches really are. It is impossible for many to share them without diminishing them, or for one person to possess them without reducing all others to poverty.

The Deception of Jewels

Perhaps your eyes are attracted by the way precious stones reflect light. But if there is any special quality in this brilliance, it is in the light of the stones themselves, not of people. So, I am astonished that people can admire them. Surely there is nothing without life to give it movement, and without structure, that a living, rational being can justifiably consider beautiful? Such things may be works of the Creator and may get some minimal beauty from their own decorative nature. But they are of a lower rank than you, a more excellent creature, and cannot in any way deserve your admiration.

The Fleeting Beauty of Nature and Possessions

Perhaps, again, you find pleasure in the beauty of the countryside. Creation is indeed very beautiful, and the countryside is a beautiful part of creation. In the same way, we are sometimes delighted by the appearance of the sea when it’s very calm. We also look up with wonder at the sky, the stars, the moon, and the sun. However, not one of these has anything to do with you personally. You dare not take credit for the splendor of any of them. The fact that flowers blossom in spring gives no special distinction to you. The swelling fullness of the autumn harvest is not your work. You are, in fact, carried away with empty joys. You embrace blessings that are foreign to you as if they were your own. I ask you, why? Fortune can never make yours what Nature has made foreign to you. Of course, the fruits of the land are meant as food for living beings. But if you wish only to satisfy your needs—and that is all Nature requires—there is no need to seek an excess from Fortune. Nature is content with few and simple things. If you try to force unnecessary additions onto what is sufficient for Nature, your bounty will become unpleasant, if not harmful.

Perhaps you think that beauty means wearing all sorts of fancy clothes. But if the clothing catches my eye, my admiration will be for either the quality of the material or the skill of the tailor, not for you. If you take pleasure in having a long line of attendants to wait on you, consider two points:

• If they are dishonest, your household is a dangerous burden and a real threat to its master.
• If they are honest, other people’s honesty can hardly be counted as one of your own possessions.

From all this, it is obvious that not one of those things you count among your blessings is actually your own blessing at all. And if, then, they don’t contain a spark of beauty worth seeking, why weep over their loss or rejoice when you keep them? If Nature gives them their beauty, how does that involve you? They would still have been pleasing by themselves, even if they were separated from your possessions. They aren’t precious because they are part of your wealth. Instead, it was because you thought them precious that you wanted to add them to your collection of riches.

The Emptiness of Chasing Wealth

What exactly are you looking for in all this complaining against Fortune? Are you trying to escape poverty by having plenty? If so, it has turned out the very opposite. The more varied your precious possessions are, the more help you need to protect them. The old saying is proved correct: “He who has much, wants much.” And the contrary is also true: “He needs least who measures wealth according to the needs of nature, and not by the desire to show off.”

It seems as if you feel a lack of any real blessing of your own inside you. This feeling is driving you to seek your blessings in things that are separate and external to yourself. And so, when a being gifted with a godlike quality because of his rational nature thinks that his only splendor lies in owning lifeless goods, it is a disruption of the natural order. Other creatures are content with what is their own. But you, whose mind is made in the image of God, seek to decorate your superior nature with inferior objects. You are unaware of the great wrong you do to your Creator. It was His will that the human race should rule all earthly creatures. But you have lowered yourself to a position beneath the lowest of all. If every good thing is agreed to be more valuable than whatever it belongs to, then by your own judgment, when you consider the most worthless objects as your goods, you make yourself lower than those very things. And that is exactly what you deserve.

Indeed, the nature of humanity is this: a man stands above the rest of creation as long as he recognizes his own nature. When he forgets it, he sinks lower than the beasts. For other living things to be ignorant of themselves is natural; but for a human, it is a flaw. What an obvious mistake to think that anything can be improved by decorations that do not truly belong to it! It’s impossible. For if there is anything striking in the decoration, that is what is praised. Meanwhile, the object hidden underneath remains just as it was, in all its unattractiveness.

My point is that no truly good thing harms its owner—a statement you won’t disagree with. But wealth very often does harm its owners. All the most criminal people, who are therefore even more greedy for other people’s property, are convinced that they alone are worthy to possess all the gold and precious stones there are. You are shuddering now at the thought of being attacked with a club or a knife. But if you had started on the path of this life with empty pockets, you would whistle your way past any highwayman. How splendid, then, is the blessing of mortal riches! Once you get them, they never leave you carefree again.”

A Song of a Simpler, Happier Age

Philosophy then sang: “Oh, happy was that long-lost age, Content with nature’s faithful fruits, An age that knew no lazy luxury. They would not eat before it was time, Their simple meal of acorns quickly found. They did not know the cleverness Of making honey sweeten wine, Or how the power of Tyrian dyes Could color shining silk fabrics.

A grassy couch gave them healthy sleep, A gliding river gave healthy drink. The tallest pine tree offered them shade. People did not plunder all the world And cut paths across the seas With goods for foreign shores. War horns were silent in those days, And blood was not spilt in bitter hate To horrify the reddening earth. What reason then for hatred, To seek the frenzied clash of weapons, When all people saw were terrible wounds With no reward for the blood that was spilt?

Would that our age could now return To those pure ways of leading life! But now the passion to possess Burns fiercer than Mount Etna’s fire. Alas for the man, whoever he was, Who first dug up heaps of buried gold And diamonds that were content to hide, And gave us dangers of such great price!”

VI. The Illusion of Power and High Office

“I should like to say something about the honors of high office and the exercise of power,” Philosophy continued. “But I am somewhat at a loss because, in your ignorance of the true nature of power and honors, people like you praise yourselves to the skies because of the offices they hold. Now, whenever high office has fallen into the hands of wicked men, the disaster has been greater than any flood or volcanic eruption. You remember, I am sure, how your ancestors wanted to abolish the consulship—even though it had been a source of freedom—because of the arrogance of the consuls. Just as before that, the same arrogance had led them to abolish the title of king. If, on the other hand, in very rare cases, these offices fall to honest men, surely the only aspect of them that is admired is the honesty of the men who hold the offices. It follows, if this is so, that honor is not given to virtue because of the office held. Instead, honor is given to the office because of the virtue of the holder.

However, let us examine this much-praised and much-sought-after power of yours. You creatures of earth, don’t you stop to consider the people over whom you think you have authority? You would laugh if you saw a community of mice and one mouse claiming power and control over the others. Again, think of the human body: could you find anything weaker than a human being? Often even a tiny fly can kill a person, either by its bite or by crawling into some internal part of them. The only way one person can exercise power over another is over their body and what is less important than the body—their possessions. You cannot force anything on a free mind. You cannot disturb the inner peace of a mind that is at peace with itself and firmly grounded in reason.

The tyrant Nearchus thought he could torture the philosopher Zeno into betraying his fellow conspirators in a plot against him. But Zeno bit off his own tongue and threw it in the face of the enraged tyrant. Nearchus had intended the tortures to be an occasion for cruelty, but Zeno made them an opportunity for heroism. In fact, there is nothing that one person can do to another that he cannot also suffer himself at the hands of someone else. We have the story of how the Egyptian king Busiris used to kill strangers, until he himself was killed by a stranger—Hercules. And in the First Punic War, your general Regulus put chains on many Carthaginian prisoners of war. But not long afterwards, he himself was holding out his own hands to receive a conqueror’s chains. Can you, then, consider it power at all, when a person cannot ensure that someone else does not do to him what he can do to others?

Furthermore, if there was some natural and inherent good in these honors and powers, they would never fall into the hands of evil men. Incompatible things do not usually mix, and nature rejects the combination of opposites. There is no doubt, then, that it is mostly evil men who hold these offices. It is therefore clear that these positions are not inherently good, since they can be associated with evil men. The same can be properly concluded about all of Fortune’s gifts, since they are given in greater abundance to all the most wicked people.

There is another point to consider about them. No one doubts that a man in whom we have seen evidence of bravery is brave. A person gifted with speed is clearly speedy. In the same way, music makes a person a musician, medicine makes them a doctor, and rhetoric makes them an orator. For it is the nature of anything to perform its proper function. It does not get mixed up with the operations of contrary things and actually repels opposites. But riches cannot satisfy endless greed. Power does not make a person master of himself if he is imprisoned by the unbreakable chains of wicked desires. And when high office is given to unworthy men, far from making them worthy, it only betrays them and reveals their unworthiness. The reason for this is that you are used to using the wrong words for things that are by nature different. This is easily proved by their very effects. So, neither riches, power, nor high office can properly be called by these impressive names. And lastly, we may reach the same conclusion about Fortune as a whole. She has nothing worth pursuing and no trace of inherent good. She never associates with good men, and she does not make good those with whom she does associate.”

Nero’s Destructive Reign (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang of the Roman Emperor Nero: “We know the ruin Nero brought When Rome was set on fire and great men were killed. By his own brother’s hand, his brother was slain. He was stained with blood from his mother, whom he also had killed. He coolly examined her corpse With no tear to wet his cheek, A detached judge of cold beauty.

The empire that he controlled Stretched then from the eastern dawn To where the sun sets at the close of day. Its northern border was where the constellations of the two Bears stand, Its southern limits where the scorching south wind Burns and bakes the dry sand. Could this high power, stretching east and west, Check Nero’s crazed madness? Too often Fate, hated by all, To savage poison adds the sword.”

VII. The Insignificance of Earthly Fame

Then I spoke to her and said that she was well aware of how little I had been motivated by worldly ambition. I had sought opportunities to engage in politics so that virtue should not grow old without being praised.

“And that,” she replied, “is the one thing that could attract minds gifted with natural excellence, though not yet perfected with the finishing touch of complete virtue—the desire for glory, the thought of being famous for the noblest services to the state. But just think how small and insignificant such fame really is. It is well known, and you have seen it demonstrated by astronomers, that compared to the vastness of the heavens, the entire circumference of the earth is like a tiny point. That is to say, compared with the immense size of the celestial sphere, the earth can be thought of as having no real size at all. The surface of the world, then, is small enough. And of this small surface, as you have learned from the geographer Ptolemy, only about one quarter is inhabited by living beings known to us. If, from this quarter, you subtract in your mind all that is covered by sea and marshes, and the vast areas made desert by lack of water, then hardly the smallest of regions is left for people to live in.

This is the tiny point within a point, enclosed and confined, in which you dream of spreading your fame and extending your reputation. Can glory squeezed into such tight and narrow limits truly have any breadth or splendor? Remember, too, that this same narrow enclosure where we live is home to many nations. These nations differ in language, customs, and their entire way of life. Because of the difficulty of travel, the differences in speech, and how infrequently trade occurs, even the renown of great cities does not reach them, let alone the fame of individuals. Cicero mentions somewhere that in his time, the fame of Rome had still not reached the Caucasus mountains, even though the empire was then fully grown and feared by the Parthians and other peoples in the east.

Surely you see, then, how cramped and limited is the fame that you are working so hard to spread and increase. You cannot expect the reputation of one Roman citizen to succeed in reaching regions where even the glorious name of Rome itself cannot reach. And what about the fact that the manners and customs of different peoples are so unalike? This means that different peoples will consider the same thing praiseworthy or punishable. A person may be pleased when their fame is published abroad. But among many peoples, it may not be beneficial at all to have their reputation spread. So, a person will have to be content when they are famous only among their own people. Their bright, immortal fame will be confined within the borders of a single nation.

Many people have been famous in their time, but their memory has vanished because there were no historians to write about them. And yet, even written histories are of little use when they, like their authors, become lost in the depths of time, which makes all things obscure. When you think of your future fame, you imagine you are creating for yourself a kind of immortality. But if you think of the infinite expanse of eternity, you have little reason to take pleasure in any continuation of your name. The span of a single second can be compared with ten thousand years. But even though a second is tiny, it still has some value in proportion, because each is a finite measure of time. However, ten thousand years, or any multiple of it no matter how great, cannot be compared with unending eternity. For while finite things can be compared with one another, the finite and the infinite can never be compared. So, however long the life of your fame may be, when compared with unending eternity, it is shown to be not just little, but nothing at all.

You, however, don’t know how to act uprightly except with an eye toward popular approval and empty reputation. You ignore those excellent qualities—a good conscience and virtue—and you chase your reward in the common gossip of people. Listen while I tell you how cleverly someone once ridiculed the shallowness of this kind of pride. A certain man once harshly criticized another man for falsely claiming the title of ‘philosopher.’ The critic said the man did this more to satisfy his excessive pride than to practice true virtue. The critic added that he would accept the title was justified if the man could suffer attacks against him with patience and calmness. For a time, the accused man did show patience. After accepting the insults, he asked with a sneer whether the other now agreed that he was a philosopher. ‘I would have,’ came the reply, ‘if you had not spoken.’ (Implying that his impatient, sneering question showed he lacked true philosophical composure.)

But we are considering great men, men who seek fame for their virtue. What do they care about reputation when the body grows lifeless in death, which ends all things? If the whole of a person dies, body and soul—a belief which our reason forbids us to accept—then fame is nothing at all, since the person who is said to have won it doesn’t exist. But if the mind stays conscious when it is freed from its earthly prison and seeks out heaven in freedom, surely it will despise every earthly affair. In the experience of heaven, it will rejoice in its liberation from earthly things.”

The Futility of Earthly Fame (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Let him whose headstrong thoughts have no other end Than praise, nor contemplate a higher purpose Than fame, look at the width and breadth of heaven And compare its magnitude with the narrow earth. This narrow circle of the world – Oh, what a shame! – his spreading glory cannot fill. Why do the proud try so hard to escape The destined yoke of human mortality?

Fame may spread to peoples far away, And as she spreads, may loosen the tongues of men. The house may shine with radiant honors. But Death, who levels all, despising glory’s pride, In scorn of rank, brings down all alike, The mighty made equal to the humble. Where now are the bones of staunch Fabricius? Where lies unbending Cato, where is Brutus? A little fame lives on, inscribed in stone, A line or two of empty reputation. We know their splendid names, but not their selves. You, too, lie utterly unknown to people, And no renown can make you truly well-known. For if you think that fame can lengthen life, By being made immortal through mortal famousness, The day will come that takes your fame as well, And there a second death awaits for you.”

VIII. The Unexpected Benefits of Bad Fortune

“But I don’t want you to think I am rigidly opposed to Fortune,” Philosophy said. “There are times when she stops deceiving and actually helps people. I mean when she reveals herself, when she throws off her disguise and admits what game she is playing. Perhaps you still don’t understand what I’m saying. What I want to say is a paradox, a contradiction, so I am hardly able to put it into words. For I think that bad fortune is actually more useful to a person than good fortune.

Good fortune always seems to bring happiness, but she deceives you with her smiles. Bad fortune, on the other hand, is always truthful because by changing, she shows her true fickleness. Good fortune deceives, but bad fortune enlightens. With her display of false riches, good fortune enslaves the minds of those who enjoy her. Bad fortune, however, gives people release by helping them recognize how fragile a thing happiness truly is. And so, you can see Fortune in one way as unpredictable, wayward, and ever-changing. But in another way, you can see her as serious, prepared, and made wise by the experience of her own adversity.

And lastly, good fortune, with her flattery, lures people away from the path of true good. But adverse fortune frequently draws people back to their true good, like a shepherdess guiding her flock with her crook. Do you think it is a small thing that this harsh and terrible misfortune has revealed to you those friends whose hearts are loyal to you? She has shown you the friends whose smiles were true smiles, and those whose smiles were false. In deserting you, Fortune has taken her so-called friends with her and left those who are really yours. If you had remained untouched and, as you thought, blessed by Fortune, you would have been unable to gain such knowledge at any price. So, you are weeping over lost riches when you have really found the most precious of all riches—friends who are true friends.”

The Cosmic Harmony of Love (A Poem)

Philosophy concluded Book II with this song: “The world, in constant change, Maintains a perfect harmony. And elements, whose nature is to war, Keep peace among themselves. The sun, in its golden chariot, Draws forth the rosy day, And evening brings the night When Luna, the moon, holds her sway. The tides, in fixed limits, Confine the greedy sea; No waves shall overflow The rolling fields and meadows.

And all this chain of things In earth and sea and sky, One ruler holds in hand: Love. If Love relaxed the reins, All things that now keep peace Would wage continual war And wreck the great machine of the universe, Which Love maintains with unity And beautiful motions.

Love, too, holds peoples joined By the sacred bond of treaties, And weaves the holy knot Of marriage’s pure love. Love proclaims the laws For friendship’s faithful bond. Oh, happy race of men, If Love, who rules the sky, Could rule your hearts as well!”

Book III

I. The Journey to True Happiness Begins

Philosophy had stopped singing. The magic of her song left me completely spellbound. I was captivated and wanted to keep listening. After a moment, I spoke to her. “You are the greatest comfort for tired spirits,” I said. “Your wise ideas and your delightful singing have refreshed me so much that I now feel capable of facing Fortune’s attacks. You were talking earlier about cures that were rather sharp. The thought of them no longer makes me shudder. In fact, I’m so eager to hear more that I strongly beg you to share them.”

“I knew it,” she replied. “Once you began to hang on my words in silent attention, I was expecting you to feel this way. Or rather, to be more exact, I myself created this feeling in you. The remedies that are still to come do, in fact, taste bitter on the tongue at first, but they grow sweet once they are absorbed. But you say you are eager to hear more. You would be more than eager if you knew the destination I am trying to bring you to.”

I asked what that destination was. She told me, “It is true happiness.” “Your mind dreams of it,” she said, “but your vision is clouded by mere shadows of happiness, so you cannot see the reality.” I begged her to lead on and show me the nature of true happiness without delay. “For you,” she said, “I will do so gladly.”

“But first,” she continued, “I will try to describe and sketch an idea of what causes happiness. Then, with a proper understanding of that, you will be able to turn your gaze in a different direction and recognize the pattern of true happiness.”

Preparing the Mind for Truth (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Whoever wants to plant seeds in new soil First clears the fields of weeds and bushes. They cut back thick ferns and brambles with a scythe And clear the way for crops of healthy wheat.

The tongue that first has tasted bitter food Finds honey, gathered by bees, even sweeter. And stars shine out more pleasingly to the eye After the rain-bringing south wind has stopped.

First, the morning star chases away the night, Then beautiful day drives in his rosy chariot. You, too, have seen the face of false good. You are starting to lift your neck from its painful grip. And now, true good shall enter your mind.”

II. The Common Goal: Happiness and Its False Paths

Philosophy stood looking at the ground for a while, as if she had retreated deep into her thoughts. Then she began to speak again.

“In all the careful effort with which they work at countless tasks, mortal people travel by different paths. However, all are striving to reach one and the same goal: happiness. Happiness, or beatitude, is a good which, once you obtain it, leaves nothing more to be desired. It is the perfection of all good things and contains in itself everything that is good. If anything were missing from it, it couldn’t be perfect, because something would remain outside it which could still be wished for. It is clear, therefore, that happiness is a state made perfect by the presence of everything that is good. It is a state which, as we said, all mortal people are striving to reach, though by different paths. The desire for true good is planted by nature in human minds; only error leads them astray towards false good.

Mistaken Roads to Happiness

Some people believe that perfect good consists in having no wants. So, they work hard in order to end up surrounded by great wealth.

• Some think that the true good is that which is most worthy of respect. So, they struggle for important positions in order to be respected by their fellow citizens.
• Some decide that true good lies in the highest power. They either want to be rulers themselves or try to become close to those in power.
• Others think that the best thing is fame. They busy themselves to make a name for themselves in the arts of war or peace.
• But most people measure the possession of good by the amount of enjoyment and delight it brings. They are convinced that being abandoned to pleasure is the highest form of happiness.

Others confuse ends and means regarding these things. For example, some people desire riches for the sake of power and pleasure. Others want power for the sake of money or fame. So, it is in these and similar goals that the aim of human activity and desire is found. People seek fame and popularity, which seem to give a kind of renown. They seek a wife and children for the sake of the pleasure they provide. As for friendship, the purest kind is counted as a mark of moral worth, not good fortune. But all other kinds of friendship are pursued for the sake of power or pleasure.

Now, it is clear that physical gifts are aspects of higher blessings:

• Bodily strength and size clearly give a person might.
• Beauty and speed bring renown.
• Health brings pleasure.

Through all of this, it is clear that the only thing people truly desire is happiness. Each person considers whatever they desire above all else to be the supreme good. We have already defined the supreme good as happiness. So, the state that each person desires above all others is judged by them to be a state of happiness. So, here you have the general pattern of what humans consider happiness: wealth, position, power, fame, and pleasure. Taking only these into account, the philosopher Epicurus very consistently stated that pleasure was the highest good, because all the other things ultimately bring enjoyment to the mind.

But to return to what people pursue. Despite a clouded memory, the human mind seeks its own good, though like a drunkard, it cannot find the path home.

• No one would say that people who strive to have everything they want are wrong. In fact, there is nothing else that could so successfully create happiness as a condition supplied with everything that is good—a condition of self-sufficiency, with no wants.
• No one, again, would say those people are wrong who think that that which is most worthy of respect and honor is the best. It is no cheap or worthless thing that almost all humankind works so hard to possess.
• Power, too, must be counted among the things that are good. For something that is agreed to be superior to all things can hardly be considered weak and powerless.
• And again, fame can’t be considered valueless. It can’t be ignored because anything that is of great excellence is also greatly renowned.
• It is obviously true that happiness is a state free from anxiety, sadness, and the burden of grief and suffering. Even in small matters, what people look for is something that gives delight when they possess and enjoy it.

These, then, are the things people long to obtain. They want riches, position, property, glory, and pleasures because they believe that through these things they will achieve self-sufficiency, respect, power, celebrity, and happiness. This is the good that people are looking for in such a variety of pursuits. And it is not difficult to see the hand of nature in this. Despite the variety and difference of their opinions, people agree in choosing the good as their goal.”

Nature’s Unbreakable Laws (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “It is my pleasure to sing with gentle strings How mighty Nature holds the reins of all things, And how she makes her laws in careful providence, Which keep the immense globe in fixed movements. How she binds and restrains each thing individually With such a bond that nothing can disturb.

Although the lion may wear decorated chains, Although he is subject to the whip’s pains, Although he may fear his tamer and will stand To catch at pieces of food from an outstretched hand, Let blood just once touch his bristling jaws, His hidden spirit will return and cause Him, with a roar, his old self to recall, And break the chains that from his neck will fall. First, limb from limb, the tamer then is torn, Whose newly spilt blood increases the rage reborn.

A bird which chattered noisily when free Is taken from the tree and put into a cage. Though cups are set there, all sweet with honey, And food in plenty is given with the sweetest care By men in their delight, It flutters in the cage and catches sight Of where the pleasant woodland shade is cast. The food beneath its feet is quickly scattered. Now, for the woods alone she sadly longs; For the woods alone she sings her whispered songs.

Forced by strong hands, the flexible young tree branch obeys; Its bended head down to the ground it lays. But when those hands stop bending the branch, Its head springs up again to face the sky.

The sun into the western waves descends, Where underground a hidden way it travels. Then to its rising in the east it comes again. All things seek the place that best suits them. Each thing rejoices when this place is found again. For nothing keeps the order it first received Unless its rising eventually bends to its fall, And makes itself a circle without end.”

III. Examining False Paths: Wealth

“You earthly creatures,” Philosophy continued, “you also dream of your origin, however faint the vision. You do have some sort of notion, unclear as it is, of the true goal of happiness. So, an instinctive sense of direction actually guides you towards the true good; only various errors lead you astray. Consider, therefore, whether people really can reach their chosen goal by the means with which they think they are going to win happiness or blessedness. If money or position or the other common pursuits do bring about some sort of condition which doesn’t seem to lack any of the good things, I will join you in admitting that some people do become happy through possessing them. But if money and the rest can’t achieve what they promise, and are actually lacking in the greater number of good things, it will be quite obvious that in them, people are grasping at a false appearance of happiness.

Wealth Cannot Bring True Self-Sufficiency

So first I will ask you a few questions, since you yourself were a wealthy man not long ago. In the midst of all that great store of wealth, was your mind never troubled by worry that came from a feeling that something was wrong?” “Yes, it was,” I replied. “In fact, I can’t remember when my mind was ever free from some sort of worry.”

“And that worry was either because something was missing that you didn’t want to be missing, or because something was present that you would have preferred not to be present?” “Yes, that’s right.” “So you wanted the presence of one thing and the absence of another?” “Yes.” “Now, a person must be lacking something if they miss it, mustn’t they?” “Yes.” “And if a person lacks something, they are not in every way self-sufficient?” “No, they are not.” “And so you felt this lack of sufficiency even though you were supplied with wealth?” “Yes, I did.”

“So, wealth cannot make a person free of want and self-sufficient, though this was the very promise we saw it offering. And this, too, I think, is a point of great importance: money has no natural quality that stops it from being taken away from those who possess it, against their will.” I had to agree.

“You can hardly do otherwise,” she continued. “It often happens that someone stronger takes money from another against his will. What else are lawsuits for, except to recover money that has been stolen by fraud or violence?” “That is true,” I said. “So, a person will need outside help to protect their money?” “Yes.” “But they wouldn’t need that help if they didn’t possess any money that could be lost?” “No, they wouldn’t.”

“So the situation has been reversed. Wealth, which was thought to make a person self-sufficient, actually makes them dependent on outside help. In that case, how do riches remove want? If you say that rich people do have the means to satisfy hunger and drive away thirst and cold, I will reply that although want can be temporarily relieved in this way by riches, it can’t be entirely removed. Every hungry and demanding want may be satisfied with the help of riches, but the basic condition of wanting—the capacity to want something—necessarily still remains. There is no need for me to mention that nature is satisfied with little, whereas greed is satisfied with nothing. So, if riches, far from being able to remove want, actually create a want of their own (the want to protect them or get more), there is no reason for you to believe that they provide self-sufficiency.”

The Anxieties of Riches (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Though a strong desire for gold urges the rich man on To gather wealth that cannot satisfy his greed, Though heavy pearls from Persia weigh down his head in adornment, And scores of oxen till his acres of land, Each day he lives, he’ll ache with gnawing care, And when he’s dead, his fickle fortunes will forsake him.”

IV. Examining False Paths: High Office

“But it is said,” Philosophy continued, “that when a man comes to high office, that makes him worthy of honor and respect. Surely such offices don’t have the power of planting virtue in the minds of those who hold them, do they? Or of removing vices? No, the opposite is true. More often than removing wickedness, high office brings it to light. This is why we are angry at seeing how often high office has been given to the most wicked of men. It’s why the poet Catullus called a certain official named Nonius a kind of ‘malignant growth,’ despite the office he held.

Surely you can see how much disgrace high office heaps upon evil people? If they don’t become famous because of appointments to high office, their unworthiness will be less noticeable. And was it possible that so much danger could lead you, too, eventually to think of taking office alongside someone like Decoratus? Surely you could see he had a thoroughly evil mind, the mind of a hanger-on and an informer? We can scarcely consider men worthy of respect on account of the offices they hold, if we judge them unworthy of those very offices! But if you saw a man endowed with wisdom, you would hardly think him unworthy of respect, or unworthy of the wisdom he possessed, would you?” “No, I wouldn’t,” I replied.

“That’s because virtue has her own individual worth,” Philosophy explained. “She immediately transfers that worth to whoever possesses her. But since public offices cannot do this, it is clear that they have no beauty or worth of their own.

There is another point we should especially note: if a man is more worthless the more widely he is despised, then high office makes men more despised. This is because high office displays men to the public gaze but cannot make them worthy of respect. But this does not happen without consequences. Wicked men give a similar return to the offices they hold: they discredit them through contact with themselves.

But I want you to see how true respect cannot be obtained through the flimsy honors of high office. Take the example of a man who has been consul many times and happens to travel among foreign peoples. Would his offices make him respected by them? If being respected were a natural property of high offices, they would never fail to have this effect anywhere in the world, just as fire is always hot anywhere on earth. But since it is the false opinion of men that connects offices with this function, and not some inherent property, as soon as these officials reach people who don’t consider their positions as honors, their status comes to nothing.

This is what happens among foreigners. But do these honors last forever even in their country of origin? There was a time when the praetorship was an office of great power. But now it is no more than an empty name and a heavy burden on the finances of the senatorial class. And once upon a time, if a man was in charge of the corn supplies, he was considered a great man. But now, no office is lower. For as we said just now, if a thing has no beauty of its own, its dignity varies at different times according to the opinion of the people who use it.

If, therefore, high offices cannot make people worthy of respect, and if, furthermore, they become tarnished by contact with evil men; if their splendor can disappear with the change of time, and if they become cheap in the estimation of foreign peoples—then, without even asking what beauty they can give, what beauty worth desiring do they even possess?”

The Stain of Wicked Rulers (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Although the proud lord Nero clothed himself In purple robes and white gemstones, Yet Nero grew to be hated by all people, A wild and cruel pleasure-seeker. At times, this evil man would give Lowly office to respected elders; But who could think those honors good Which wretched men bestowed on them?”

V. Examining False Paths: Power and Royal Favor

“Can being a king or being the friend of a king give a man power?” Philosophy asked. “If the answer is ‘Yes, because their happiness lasts without interruption,’ I shall reply that history, and our own times too, are full of examples of kings who exchanged happiness for ruin. What a splendid thing power is, when we find it insufficient even for its own preservation!

Now, if kingly power is a source of happiness, any lack in it means a reduction of happiness and the introduction of unhappiness, doesn’t it? Whatever the size of human empires, it is inevitable that many people are left unruled by any king. And wherever the power that makes men happy comes to an end, lack of power enters and makes them miserable. So, it necessarily follows that kings have a larger share of misery. Dionysius, the Tyrant of Syracuse, knew well enough the dangers of his position. He illustrated the fears of kingship to Damocles by making a sword dangle over his head by a single hair.

What is this power, then, which cannot banish the nagging of worry or avoid the pin-prick of fear? Kings would like to live free from worry, but they can’t. And then they boast of their power! Do you think of a man as powerful when you see him lacking something which he cannot achieve? Do you consider powerful a man who goes about with a bodyguard because he is more afraid than the subjects he terrorizes, and whose claim to power depends on the will of those who serve him?

And what should I say about the friends of kings, when I can show that kingship itself is full of such weakness? They are often brought down while the royal power remains unharmed, but often too when it collapses. The decision to commit suicide was forced upon Seneca by the very Nero whose friend and mentor he had been. And Papinian, who had long been a powerful figure in the court, was thrown to the soldiers’ swords by the emperor Caracalla.”

Each of them was willing to give up his power. Seneca even tried to give his money to Nero and go into retirement. But like men who lose their footing and are pulled down by their own weight, neither was able to achieve what he wanted.

What sort of power is it, then, that strikes fear into those who possess it? What power confers no safety on you if you want it, and which cannot be avoided when you want to give it up? There is no support, either, in friends you acquire because of your good fortune rather than because of your personal qualities. The friend that success brings you becomes your enemy in times of misfortune. And there is no evil more able to do you injury than a friend who has turned into an enemy.”

The True King is Master of Himself (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Whoever wants to wield high power Must first tame his own fierce passions. His heart must not cower before evil Or bow to the terrible grip of lust.

For even if distant India may tremble Beneath your mighty rule, And even if Thule, far in the Northern sea, May bow beneath your control, If you are a prey to care and want, You are no king, but a slave.”

VI. The Emptiness of Fame and Nobility

“Fame, in fact, is a shameful thing, and so often deceptive,” Philosophy said. “The playwright Euripides was right to make Andromache cry out: ‘Oh Fame, oh Fame! You have lifted up many a man of no real account to a high position before now.’

Indeed, many men have wrongly acquired fame through the false opinions of the people. There is nothing more shameful than that. Men who are praised without justification cannot help but blush at the praise they receive. And even if the praise is deserved, it cannot add anything to a philosopher’s feelings. A philosopher measures happiness not by popularity, but by the true voice of his own conscience.

If it is thought a fine achievement to have spread this fame far and wide, it follows that it must be judged shameful not to have spread one’s fame. But, as I said just a little while ago, there must necessarily be many peoples to whom the reputation of one single man can never reach. So, you may consider a man famous, but people in the next part of the globe will never even have heard of him. This is why I don’t consider popularity worth mentioning in this list of supposed goods. Its acquisition is based on chance, and keeping it is continuously uncertain.

As for the claim to nobility, no one is blind to how vain and worthless that is. If nobility comes from fame, it is a borrowed nobility. It is clearly a kind of praise that comes from the deeds of one’s parents. Fame is the product of praise, and it is logical that it is those who are praised who become famous. Therefore, the praise of someone else cannot make you noble unless you are famous in your own right. If there is anything good in nobility, I think it is only this: that a necessary condition is placed upon noble people not to fall short of the virtue of their ancestors.”

True Nobility Comes from God (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “From one single beginning rises all mankind; For one Lord rules and is the father of all things born. He gave the sun his light, and the moon her horns (crescent shape). He gave men to the earth and stars to decorate the sky. He enclosed in bodies minds that He brought down from high, A noble origin for all mortal people.

Why then do you proclaim your family and your ancestry? Look to where you came from and see who made you: God. No person is lowly except when, through sin, they abandon Their proper source to cherish lesser things.”

VII. The Deception of Bodily Pleasure

“Of bodily pleasure, I can think of little to say,” Philosophy stated. “Its pursuit is full of anxiety, and its fulfillment is full of remorse. Frequently, like a kind of reward for wickedness, it causes great illness and unbearable pain for those who make bodily pleasure their source of enjoyment. I do not know what happiness lies in its passions. But everyone who cares to recall his own excesses knows that the end of pleasure is sorrow. If bodily pleasure can produce happiness, then there is no reason to deny that animals are happy, since their whole aim in life is directed towards fulfilling bodily needs.

The pleasures derived from a wife and children are indeed usually honest and good. But there is a story, all too natural, that a certain man found his own children to be tormentors. How painful the condition of every such man is, there is no need to remind you, since you have experienced such conditions yourself, and are still not free from anxiety. So I agree with my Euripides when he said that the childless man was fortunate in his misfortune.”

The Sting of Pleasure (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “All pleasures have one quality that is alike: They drive their devotees onward with sharp prods. And like a swarm of bees upon the wing, They first pour out their honey loads, Then turn and strike their victim’s heart And leave behind their deep-set sting.”

VIII. The Failure of False Goods and the Illusion of Bodily Beauty

“There is no doubt, then,” Philosophy declared, “that these roads to happiness are mere side-tracks. They cannot bring us to the destination they promise. The evils with which they are troubled are great, as I will briefly show you.

• If you try to hoard money, you will have to take it by force from others.
• If you want to shine in the honors of high office, you will have to grovel before the person who gives out those honors. In your desire to outdo others in high honor, you will have to cheapen and humiliate yourself by begging.
• If you want power, you will have to expose yourself to the plots of your subjects and run dangerous risks.
• If fame is what you seek, you will find yourself on a hard road, drawn this way and that until you are worn out with care.
• If you decide to lead a life of pleasure, there will be no one who will not reject you with scorn as the slave of that most worthless and fragile master, the human body.

For think how tiny and fragile a thing people strive to possess when they set the good of the body before them as their aim. As if you could surpass the elephant in size, the bull in strength, or the tiger in speed! Look up at the vault of heaven. See the strength of its foundation and the speed of its movement, and stop admiring things that are worthless. Yet the heavens are less wonderful for their foundation and speed than for the divine order that rules them.

The sleek looks of physical beauty are fleeting and temporary, more short-lived than blossoms in spring. If, as Aristotle said, we had the piercing eyesight of the mythical Lynceus and could see right through things, even the body of an Alcibiades—so fair on the surface—would look thoroughly ugly once we had seen the organs inside. Your own nature doesn’t make you look beautiful. It is due to the weak eyesight of the people who see you. Think how excessive this desire for the good of the body is, when, as you know, all that you admire can be reduced to nothing by just three days of burning fever.

The sum of all this is that these things—wealth, office, power, fame, and pleasure—are not the way to happiness. They cannot by themselves make people happy because they can neither produce the good they promise, nor can they achieve perfection by the combination of all good things.”

Mankind’s Misguided Search (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Alas, what wretched ignorance leads Mankind astray from the true path! Who looks on spreading branches for gold, Or on vines for precious jewels? What man sets nets on mountain-tops For feasts of rich sea-food? What huntsman has pursued the wild goat Upon the sea?

Men know the very depths of the ocean Beneath the waves on high. They know which shore is rich with pearls, Which shores offer purple dye. They know the bays for tender fish, And where to try for shellfish. But in their blindness, they do not know Where the good they truly seek lies. That which is higher than the sky, They seek on earth below.

What can I wish for you foolish men? Go on, pursue wealth and fame! And when great toil wins you a false reward, Then may you finally see what is true!”

IX. Unveiling True Happiness as a Unified Good

“I have said enough to give a picture of false happiness,” Philosophy stated. “If you can see that clearly, the next thing is to show what true happiness is like.” “I do indeed see,” I replied, “that self-sufficiency has nothing to do with riches, power has nothing to do with kingship, respect with honors, glory with fame, or true joy with pleasures.” “But have you grasped the reasons for this?” she asked. “I think I can see a glimmer of them,” I said, “but I would like to learn of them more clearly from you.”

“The reason is very clear,” Philosophy explained. “That which is naturally one and undivided is mistakenly subdivided and removed by people from the state of truth and perfection to a state of falseness and imperfection. Do you consider self-sufficiency to be a state that is lacking in power?” “Not at all,” I said. “Of course not,” she agreed. “For if a being had some weakness in some respect, it would necessarily need the help of something else.” I agreed. “So, self-sufficiency and power are of one and the same nature.” “So it seems,” I replied.

“Would you then consider a being of this kind—self-sufficient and powerful—beneath contempt, or, on the contrary, supremely worthy of veneration and respect?” “The latter, there is no doubt about it.” “Then let us add the state of being revered to self-sufficiency and power, so that we may judge all three to be one.” “We must,” I said, “if we care to admit the truth.”

“What do you think, then?” she asked. “Would such a combination be unrecognized and unknown, or famous and renowned? Granted that it lacks nothing, possesses all power, and is supremely worthy of honor, ask yourself whether it would lack a glory which it cannot provide for itself, and therefore whether it seems of only qualified merit.” “I can only say,” I responded, “that given its nature, it would be unsurpassed in fame and glory.” “And consequently,” she said, “we may say that fame, glory, and renown are nothing different from the three qualities we have already discussed.” “Yes,” I agreed.

“If there were, then, a being that is self-sufficient, able to accomplish everything from its own resources, glorious, and worthy of reverence, surely it would also be supremely happy?” “How any sorrow could approach such a being is inconceivable,” I said. “It must be admitted that provided the other qualities are permanent, it will be full of happiness.” “And for the same reason,” Philosophy concluded, “this conclusion, too, is inescapable: self-sufficiency, power, glory, reverence, and happiness differ in name but not in substance. They are all one.” “Yes,” I said.

“Human perversity, then,” she continued, “makes divisions of that which by nature is one and simple. In attempting to obtain part of something which has no parts, people succeed in getting neither the part—which is nothing—nor the whole, which they are not interested in.” “How does that happen?” I asked.

“If a man pursues wealth by trying to avoid poverty,” Philosophy explained, “he is not working to get power. He prefers being unknown and unrecognized. He even denies himself many natural pleasures to avoid losing the money he has acquired. But certainly, no self-sufficiency is achieved this way, since he is lacking in power and troubled by anxieties. He is of no account because of his low esteem and is buried in obscurity. And if a man pursues only power, he spends his wealth, despises pleasures and honor that come without power, and considers glory of no importance. But you can see how much this man also lacks. At any given time, he lacks the necessities of life and is consumed by worry, from which he cannot free himself. So, he ceases to be what he most of all wants to be—that is, powerful. A similar argument can be applied to honor, glory, and pleasures. Since any one of them is the same as the others, a man who pursues one of them to the exclusion of the others cannot even acquire the one he wants.”

“But suppose,” I said, “someone should want to obtain them all at one and the same time?” “Then he would be seeking the sum of happiness,” Philosophy replied. “But do you think he would find it among these things, which we have shown to be unable to deliver what they promise?” “No, I don’t,” I admitted. “So, it is impossible to find happiness among these things, which are thought to provide each of the desired states individually?” “I agree,” I said, “and no truer word could be spoken.”

“Then there you have both the nature and the cause of false happiness,” Philosophy concluded. “Now turn your mind’s eye in the opposite direction, and you will immediately see the true happiness that I promised.” “Even a blind man could see it,” I said. “You revealed it just now when you were trying to show the causes of false happiness. For unless I’m mistaken, true and perfect happiness is that which makes a man self-sufficient, strong, worthy of respect, glorious, and joyful. And to show you that I have more than a superficial understanding, without a shadow of doubt I can see that happiness to be true happiness which, since all these qualities are all the same thing, can truly bestow any one of them.”

“You are blessed in this belief, my child,” Philosophy said, “provided you add one thing.” “What is that?” I asked. “Do you think there is anything among these mortal and decaying things which could bring about such a state of perfect happiness?” “No, I don’t,” I replied, “and you have proved it as well as anyone could wish.” “Clearly, therefore,” she said, “these earthly things offer people only shadows of the true good, or imperfect blessings. They cannot bring true and perfect good.” “Yes,” I agreed.

“Since then you have realized the nature of true happiness and seen its false imitations,” Philosophy stated, “what remains now is that you should see where to find this true happiness.” “That is the very thing I have long and eagerly been waiting for,” I said. “But,” Philosophy cautioned, “since in his Timaeus, my servant Plato was pleased to ask for divine help even over small matters, what do you think we ought to do now in order to be worthy of discovering the source of that supreme good?” “We ought to pray to the Father of all things,” I replied. “To omit to do so would not be laying a proper foundation.” “Right,” she said, and immediately began the following hymn.

Hymn to the Creator, the Source of True Good

“O You who rule by everlasting reason, Creator of the planets and the sky, Who bring time from timelessness, You are the unchanging Mover. No external cause drove You to mold unstable matter, but The perfect form of the highest good, set within You, was Your guide. (5) All things You bring forth from Your high, perfect model. You, the height of beauty, in Your mind carry the beautiful world, And shaping it in that ideal likeness, You order perfect parts to frame a perfect whole. (10) You constrain the elements by harmony, So that hot and cold, and wet and dry are made equal, So that fire does not grow too light, or earth too heavy with weight. You made the soul a bridge of threefold nature, which spreads Through nature’s harmonious limbs and moves all things. (15) The soul, once divided, joins its motion in two circles, Goes round and to itself returns, encircling the divine Mind, And turns the firmament (heavens) in a similar pattern. From like causes You bring forth souls and lesser lives, Which from above, in swift chariots, You disperse (20) Through sky and earth. And by Your loving law they turn And back to You they come, through fire that brings them home.

Grant, Father, that our minds may look upon Your majestic seat. Grant us the sight of the source of true good, and grant us light That we may fix on You our mind’s unblinded eye. (25) Disperse the clouds of earthly matter’s clinging weight. Shine out in all Your glory! For You are rest and peace To those who worship You. To see You is our end, You who are our source and maker, lord and path and goal.”

X. Locating Perfect Happiness in God

“Since, then, you have seen the form of both imperfect good and perfect good,” Philosophy said, “I think we now have to show where this perfect happiness is to be found.

The first question to ask is, I think, whether any good of the kind I defined a moment ago—perfect happiness—can actually exist in the natural world. This will prevent our being led astray from the truth of the matter before us by false and poorly founded reasoning. But the existence of this perfect good, and its function as a kind of fountain-head of all good things, cannot be denied. For everything that is said to be imperfect is considered so because of the absence of perfection. So, if a certain imperfection is visible in any category of things, it follows that there is also a measure of perfection in it. For if you do away with perfection entirely, it is impossible to imagine how that which is considered imperfect could even exist. The natural world did not take its origin from something that was damaged and incomplete. Instead, it issues from that which is unimpaired and perfect, and then it degenerates into this fallen and worn-out condition. But we showed just now that there is a certain imperfect happiness in perishable goods. So, there can be no doubt that a true and perfect happiness exists.”

“That is a very sound and true conclusion,” I said.

“As to where it is to be found, then,” Philosophy continued, “you should think as follows. It is the universal understanding of the human mind that God, the author of all things, is good. Since nothing can be conceived that is better than God, everyone agrees that that which has no superior is good. Reason shows that God is so good that we are convinced His goodness is perfect. Otherwise, He couldn’t be the author of creation. If His goodness were not perfect, there would have to be something else possessing perfect goodness over and above God, which would seem to be superior to Him and older. For all perfect things are obviously superior to those that are imperfect. Therefore, to avoid an unending argument, it must be admitted that the supreme God is, to the highest degree, filled with supreme and perfect goodness. But we have already agreed that perfect good is true happiness. So, it follows that true happiness is to be found in the supreme God.”

“I accept that,” I said. “There is nothing in any way open to contradiction.”

“But,” she said, “I must ask you to make sure that your approval of our statement—that the supreme God is to the highest degree filled with supreme good—is unqualified and final.” “What do you mean?” I asked.

“You must avoid the assumption,” she explained, “that this Father of creation has received this supreme good (with which He is said to be filled) from some outside source. You must also avoid thinking that He possesses it by nature, but in such a way that would lead you to suppose that the substance of God the possessor was a separate thing from the substance of the happiness He possesses. If you thought that He received it from outside Himself, you would then be able to consider the giver superior to the receiver.”

“But we agree that it is right to consider God the most excellent of all things.

On the other hand, if goodness is a natural property of God, but something logically separate from Him, then whenever we speak of God as the author of creation, a clever mind might be able to imagine the existence of some power responsible for bringing together the two things that were separate (God and His goodness).

Finally, if one thing is distinct and separate from another, it cannot be the thing from which it is perceived to be distinct. So, that which by its own nature is something distinct from the supreme good cannot be the supreme good. But this is something we may not believe about God, to whom we agree there is nothing superior. It is impossible for anything to be by nature better than that from which it came. I would therefore conclude with perfect logic that the Being which is the origin of all things is, in His own substance, the supreme good.” “Perfectly right,” I said.

“But we have agreed that the supreme good is the same as happiness,” Philosophy reminded me. “Yes.” “So, we have to agree that God is the very essence of happiness.” “Your starting points are undeniable,” I replied, “and I see that this conclusion follows from them.”

“Then consider whether this, too, can be firmly accepted,” she said. “It is impossible for two supreme goods to exist separate from one another. For it is clear that if the two goods are separate, the one cannot be the other. In that case, neither could be perfect, because each would be lacking the other. But that which is not perfect is obviously not supreme. It is therefore impossible for there to be two separate supreme goods. However, we deduced earlier that both happiness and God are supreme goodness. So, it follows that supreme happiness is identical with supreme divinity (God).” “There could scarcely be a conclusion more true to reality, or more sure in its reasoning, or more worthy of God,” I declared.

“I will add something to it,” Philosophy continued. “Just as in geometry, some additional idea may be drawn from a theorem that has been proved—called in technical language a porisma in Greek, or a corollary in Latin—I too will give you a kind of corollary, or additional insight. Since it is through possessing happiness that people become happy, and since happiness is in fact divinity, it is clear that it is through possessing divinity that they become happy. But by the same logic that people become just through possessing justice, or wise through possessing wisdom, so those who possess divinity necessarily become divine. Each happy individual is therefore divine. While only God is divine by His very nature, as many people as you like may become divine by participation.” “What you say is beautiful and valuable,” I responded, “whether you call it a porisma or a corollary.”

“But the most beautiful thing,” she said, “is what logic leads us to add to all this.” “What is that?” I asked. “Are all the many things we see included under the word ‘happiness’ like parts combining to form a single body, yet separate in their variety? Or is there any one of them which can fully supply the essence of happiness, and under which the others may be classified?” “Could you clarify the question by being more specific?” I requested.

“Well,” she said, “we consider happiness something good, don’t we?” “Yes, the supreme good,” I affirmed. “You could say the same of all of them,” she continued. “Absolute self-sufficiency is judged to be the same as happiness. So too are power, reverence, glory, and pleasure. Well, the question is this: are all these things—self-sufficiency, power, and the others—good as if happiness were a body of which they were parts? Or is goodness something above them all, to which they belong?” “I understand the question you are proposing we should ask,” I said, “but I should like to hear what your answer would be.”

“This is how I would resolve it,” Philosophy explained. “If all these were related to happiness like limbs to a body, they would differ from one another. This is because it is the nature of parts that the body is one, but the parts that make it up are diverse. But all these things—self-sufficiency, power, reverence, glory, and pleasure—have been proved to be identical. So, they are not like limbs. Moreover, if they were, it would appear that happiness was a body made up of a single limb, which is impossible.” “There is no doubt of that,” I said. “But I am eager for what is to come.”

“It is clear,” she went on, “that the other properties are classified under ‘good.’ It is precisely because self-sufficiency is judged to be a good thing that people want it. And it is precisely because power, too, is believed to be a good thing that it is sought after. The exact same conclusion may be reached about reverence, glory, and pleasure.

The chief point and reason, therefore, for seeking all things is goodness. For it is quite impossible for that which contains no good in itself, whether real or apparent, to be an object of desire. On the other hand, things which are not good by nature are sought after if they nevertheless seem as if they were truly good.

The result is, therefore, that there is justice in the belief that goodness is the main point upon which the pursuit of everything depends and by which it is motivated. What seems most to be desired is the thing that motivates the pursuit of something else. For example, if a man wants to go riding for the sake of his health, it is not so much the motion of horse-riding he desires as the resulting good health. Since, therefore, all things are desired for the sake of the good in them, no one desires those things as much as they desire the good itself. But we have agreed that the reason for desiring things is happiness. So, it is clearly obvious that the good itself and happiness are identical.” “I can see no reason for anyone to disagree,” I said.

“But we have shown that God and happiness are one and the same thing,” Philosophy reminded me. “Yes.” “We may safely conclude, then,” she stated, “that God is to be found in goodness itself and nowhere else.”

An Invitation to True Goodness (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Come here now, all you who are captive, Whom false desire chains in wicked bonds, Desire that makes its home in earthly minds. Here you will find release from heavy toil, Here you will find a haven blessed with peaceful calm, An ever-open refuge from distress.

Not all the gold that the river Tagus bestows, That the river Hermus sheds upon its glittering banks, Or that Indus, on whose torrid shores are scattered Green emeralds mixed with dazzling pearls, May sharpen and make bright the intellect. Instead, wealth in its own darkness clouds the thoughts.

For all that thus excites and charms the mind, Dim earth has nurtured in her caverns deep. While that bright light which rules and animates The sky, will shun such dark and ruined souls. Whoever once shall see this shining light Will say the sun’s own rays are not so bright.”

XI. Unity as the Essence of Goodness

“I agree,” I said, “for all that you have said is established and connected by the soundest of reasoning.” Then she asked, “How valuable would you think it if you could come to know the good itself?” “Infinitely valuable,” I replied, “if I should also be able to see God, who is the good.”

“I will make it clear with undeniable reasoning,” she said, “provided our recent conclusions still stand.” “They do,” I confirmed.

“We have proved, then, haven’t we,” Philosophy continued, “that the various things the majority of people pursue are not perfect and good? This is because they differ from one another, and because they are lacking to one another and therefore cannot provide full and perfect good. On the other hand, true good does come about when they are all brought together into one form and effective power, as it were. This happens so that self-sufficiency becomes identical with power, reverence, glory, and pleasure. Unless all these are one and the same thing, they have no claim to be included among worthwhile objects of pursuit.” “You have proved it,” I said, “and there is no room at all for doubt.”

“When these objects differ from one another, they are not good,” she explained. “But when they begin to be one, they become good. So, it comes about that it is through the acquisition of unity that these things are good, doesn’t it?” “It seems so,” I agreed.

“But do you or do you not agree that everything that is good is so through participation in goodness?” “I do agree.” “Then you are obliged to agree by the same argument that unity and goodness are identical. For things whose natural effect is identical must have the same essential substance in common.” “I cannot deny it,” I said.

“You know, then,” Philosophy went on, “that everything that is remains and continues to exist just so long as it is one. But it perishes and dissolves immediately it ceases to be one?” “How is that?” I asked.

“It is just as with living creatures,” she explained. “When soul and body come together and remain united, we speak of a living being. But when this unity breaks up through the separation of either part, it is clear that the living being perishes and no longer exists. The very body, too, as long as it remains in one form through the combination of its members, you see a human figure. But if the parts are divided up and separated, and the body’s unity is destroyed, it ceases to be what it was. You may run through every other thing, and it will be clear beyond a shadow of doubt that everything continues to exist as long as it is one, but perishes when its unity ceases.” “Yes,” I said, “I can think of many things of which this is true.”

“Now, is there anything,” Philosophy asked, “which in the course of its natural activity loses the will to exist and desires to obtain death and decay?” “If I confine my thoughts to living creatures gifted by nature with freedom of choice,” I replied, “I can find nothing which, in the absence of external force, would give up the intention to live and willingly rush towards death. For every kind of animal works hard to guard its own safety and shuns death and destruction. But in the case of plants and trees, I am in some doubt as to what I would agree with.”

“And yet there is no room for indecision here either,” she responded. “You can see how, in the first place, plants and trees grow up in places suitable to them, where it would be unnatural for them quickly to wither and die. Some grow in fields, some on hills, some in marshes. Some cling to rocky ground, and the barren desert is full of others. If you tried to transplant them into other environments, they would wither away. Nature gives each one whatever suits it and, as long as life is possible, works to prevent them from dying. Just think how they all draw nourishment through their roots, as if they were burying their mouths in the earth, and how strength spreads through their core (pith) and bark. And how the softest part, like the pith, is always buried inside, while the covering of bark, with the strength of the wood, is set on the outside to withstand the harshness of the weather, like a protector capable of enduring such harm. And think how painstaking Nature is to ensure that all things are propagated by the multiplication of their seed. Everyone knows that plants and trees are like a kind of machine, not only for the duration of their own lifetime but also for the almost everlasting continuation of their species.

Even things which are believed to be without life also desire, in a similar way, that which is their own and proper to them, don’t they? Otherwise, why is flame carried upwards by its lightness, and solid things carried down by their weight, except because these positions and motions suit the individual things? Furthermore, they preserve that which is suitable to each thing, just as they destroy what is harmful. Things that are hard, like stone, stick together with great tenacity throughout their parts and resist being easily broken up. But fluids, like air and water, easily give way before a dividing force and easily reunite again with the parts that have been cut off. And fire doesn’t allow itself to be cut at all.

We are not dealing here with willed motions of the conscious mind, but with instinctive motions. These are like the way we digest the food we have eaten without thinking about it, and the way we breathe in our sleep without being conscious of it. Not even in living things is the love of self-preservation due to the wishes of their mind, but to the principles of their nature. For often, when there are reasons which force death upon a creature, Nature turns away in horror, but the will accepts it. And on the other hand, the work of procreation—which alone gives mortal creatures their continuity and which Nature always desires—is sometimes curbed by the will. To such an extent does this love of self-preservation stem not from conscious desire, but from natural instinct. Providence has given its creatures one great reason to go on living: the instinctive desire for the greatest possible self-preservation. There is no reason, therefore, for you to have any doubt that all things have an instinctive desire to preserve their life and avoid destruction.”

“I admit,” I said, “that what just now seemed uncertain to me, I can now see without any doubt.”

“Now,” Philosophy continued, “whatever seeks to exist and remain alive desires to be one. Take unity away from a thing, and its existence also ceases.” “That is true,” I replied. “So, all things desire unity.” “Yes.” “But we proved that unity is identical with goodness.” “Yes.” “So, all things seek the good. You could describe this by saying that it is goodness itself which all things desire.”

“No truer conclusion could be discovered,” I exclaimed. “For either all things are inclined to no single thing and will wander about aimlessly, as though lacking any head or helmsman to guide them; or, if there is something to which all things are inclined, it will be the sum of all good.”

“I am very happy, my son,” Philosophy said, “for you have fixed in your mind the very mark of the central truth. And in this, you have revealed the very thing you were just now saying you did not know.” “What was that?” I asked. “What the end or purpose of all things was,” she answered. “For certainly, it is the same as that which all things desire. We have deduced that that is goodness, and so we must agree that the end of all things is the good.”

The Seed of Truth Within (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “Whoever deeply searches for the truth And will not be lured down false side-paths, Shall turn his inward gaze unto himself, Shall bring his wandering thoughts in a circle home, (5) And teach his heart that what it seeks outside It holds in its own treasuries within. What error’s gloomy clouds have hidden before Will then shine clearer than the sun itself.

Not all its light is banished from the mind (10) By the body’s matter, which makes men forget. The seed of truth lies hidden deep within, And teaching fans the spark to take new life. Why else, unaided, can a man answer truly, Unless deep in the heart the potential for truth burns? (15) And if the muse of Plato speaks the truth, A man only recalls what once he knew and lost.”

XII. God’s Governance Through Goodness

Then I said, “I agree very strongly with Plato. This is the second time you have reminded me of these matters. The first time was because I had lost my memory through the influence of the body. This second time is because I lost it when I became overwhelmed by the weight of my grief.”

“If you look at what we have already agreed upon,” Philosophy said, “you won’t be far from remembering what you said you did not know just now.” “What was that?” I asked. “The manner in which the world is governed.” “I remember admitting my ignorance,” I replied. “But even though I have some idea of it now, I should like to hear more plainly what arguments you would present.”

“Just now, you thought it was beyond doubt that this world was ruled by God,” she reminded me. “I still do think it is beyond doubt, and I will always think so,” I affirmed. “I will briefly explain the arguments which convince me in this matter. This world would never have come together into one form out of such diverse and opposing parts if there had not been One who could unify such diversity. Their very diversity, in turn, would make them break out into disagreement and tear apart and destroy the unity of the world, unless there were a power capable of holding together what He had once woven together. Nature’s fixed order could not proceed on its path, and the various kinds of change could not exhibit motions so orderly in place, time, effect, distance from one another, and nature, unless there was one unmoving and stable power to regulate them. For this power, whatever it is, through which creation remains in existence and in motion, I use the word which all people use: God.”

Then she said, “Since this is your opinion, I think little remains for me to do before you acquire happiness and return safe and sound to your true homeland. But let us look at the arguments we have set forth. We have included self-sufficiency under the definition of happiness, haven’t we? And we have agreed that God is happiness itself?” “Yes.” “So, in regulating the universe, He will need no external assistance—otherwise, if He needs anything, He won’t have complete self-sufficiency.” “That conclusion is inescapable,” I agreed. “So, He regulates all things by Himself?” “It cannot be denied.” “Now, we have proved that God is the good itself.” “Yes, I remember.” “So, it is by goodness that He rules all things, since He rules them by Himself, and we have agreed that He is the good. This goodness is the helm and rudder, so to speak, by which the fabric of the universe is kept constant and unimpaired.” “I strongly agree,” I said. “And this is exactly what I thought you were going to say, although I wasn’t sure of my guess.”

“I believe you,” she said, “for now, I think, you are bringing your eyes to look with greater care upon the truth. And what I am going to say is no less clear to the sight.” “What is that?” I asked.

“Since we are right in thinking that God controls all things by the guiding principle of goodness,” Philosophy continued, “and since all things, as I have said, have a natural inclination towards the good, it can hardly be doubted, can it, that they are willingly governed? They willingly obey the desires of Him who controls them, like things that are in harmony and agreement with their guide.”

“That is necessarily so,” I agreed. “A happy government would hardly seem like a heavy burden forced upon unwilling necks. Instead, it would be a willing acceptance of salvation.”

“There is nothing, therefore,” she stated, “that could preserve its own nature if it tried to go against God.” “Nothing at all,” I said. “If it did try,” Philosophy added, “it wouldn’t make any progress against Him. We have agreed that He is, because of His happiness, supreme in power.” “No, it would be completely powerless.” “Is there anything, then,” she asked, “which might either wish to be, or be able to be, an obstacle to this supreme good?” “I don’t think so,” I replied. “It is the supreme good, then,” she concluded, “which powerfully and sweetly orders all things.”

Then I said, “The conclusion of this highest of arguments has made me very happy. I am even happier because of the words you used. I am now ashamed of the stupidity of all my angry complaints.”

“You have no doubt heard the myths about how the giants began attacking heaven,” Philosophy said. “And as was right, they, too, were kindly but firmly put in order. But would you like us to bring about a conflict of arguments now? Perhaps from such a collision, some beautiful spark of truth might leap forth.” “Whatever you decide,” I said.

“No one could doubt that God is all-powerful (omnipotent), could they?” she began. “No one, at any rate, who is in his right mind would have any doubt about it.” “But there is nothing that an omnipotent power could not do?” “No, nothing.” “Then, can God do evil?” she asked. “No,” I replied. “So, evil is nothing,” Philosophy stated, “since that is what He cannot do, and He can do anything.”

“You are playing with me, aren’t you?” I asked. “You are weaving a labyrinth of arguments from which I can’t find the way out. At one moment you go in by a path where you’ll later come out, and at another moment, you come out by a path where you previously went in. Or are you creating a wonderful circle of divine simplicity? Just now, you began with happiness and said it was the highest good, and you said it was to be found in God. Then you began arguing that God Himself was also the supreme good and perfect happiness. You added as a kind of bonus that no one could be happy unless he was also divine. You said that the very form of the good was identical with the substance of God and of happiness. And you taught us that unity itself was the same as the good, because all things had a natural inclination towards it. Then you argued that God rules the universe by the guiding principle of goodness, that all things obey willingly, and that evil is nothing. You unfolded all of which without the help of any external aid, but with one internal proof built upon another, so that each drew its believability from the one that came before.”

Then she replied, “I am not mocking you. Through the favor of God, whom we prayed to a moment ago, we have achieved the greatest of all things. The form of the divine substance is such that it does not spread out into outside things, nor does it take up into itself anything from them. As the philosopher Parmenides says of it, God is ‘like the mass of a sphere well-rounded in all ways.’ He rotates the moving sphere of the universe while remaining Himself unmoved. If we have been dealing with arguments not sought from outside sources but found within the boundaries of the matter we have been discussing, there is no reason for you to be surprised. You have learned on the authority of Plato that we must use language that is appropriate to the subject matter of our discussion.”

The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang this story: “Happy the man whose eyes once could Perceive the shining fountain of good; Happy is he whose unchecked mind Could leave the chains of earth behind.

(5) Once, when Orpheus sadly mourned For his wife, Eurydice, beyond death’s realm, His tearful melody began to play. It made the motionless trees begin to run, It made the rivers halt their flow. (10) It made the lion, the deer’s fierce foe, Walk side by side with her in peace. It made the hare accept the hound, Now subdued by the music’s sound.

But Orpheus’s own passions, unrepressed, (15) Burned even more fiercely in his breast. Though his song subdued all other things, It could not calm its master’s mood. Complaining of the gods above, Down to hell he went for love.

(20) There, on sweetly sounding strings, Songs that soothe he plays and sings. All the inspiration once drawn from song, From the springs where the Muses throng, All the strength of helpless grief, (25) And of love, which doubled his grief, Give their weight then to his weeping, As he stands before the lords of the underworld, beseeching Them for grace.

The three-headed porter, Cerberus, stands amazed, (30) By Orpheus’ singing tamed and dazed. The Furies, who avenge men’s sin, Who grin at the terror of the guilty, Now let tears of sorrow from them steal. No longer does the turning wheel (35) Send Ixion’s head whirling round. Old Tantalus, hearing the sound, Forgets the waters and his thirst. And while the music is performed, The vulture stops tearing flesh.

(40) At last, the monarch of the dead (Pluto) In a tearful voice, ‘We yield,’ he said: ‘Let him take with him his wife, By song redeemed and brought to life. But let him, too, this law obey: (45) Look not back on her along the way Until from night she reaches day.’

But who to love can give a law? Love unto itself is its own law. Alas, close to the borders of night, (50) Orpheus backwards turned his sight Upon Eurydice, and looking, lost her twice to fate.

This legend I relate for you, You who seek the upward way To lift your mind into the light of day. (55) For whoever gives in and turns his eye Back to darkness from the sky, Loses, while he looks below, All the good that up with him may go.”

Book IV

I. Boethius’s Great Doubt: Why Does Evil Exist?

Philosophy delivered her sweet and gentle song with a dignified face and a serious expression. But I had still not forgotten the grief within me. I interrupted her just as she was preparing to say something else.

“You,” I said, “who are my leader towards the true light, everything you have poured forth in your speech up to now has been clearly both divine to think about and powerfully supported by your arguments. You have spoken of things I had forgotten because of the pain of what I had suffered. But before this, they were not entirely unknown to me.

But the greatest cause of my sadness is really this: the fact that even though a good guide (God) steers the world, evil can still exist and even go unpunished. This fact alone you must surely think is a reason for considerable wonder. But there is something even more bewildering. When wickedness rules and flourishes, not only does virtue go unrewarded, it is even trampled underfoot by the wicked and punished as if it were a crime. That this can happen in the realm of an all-knowing and all-powerful God who wills only good—this is beyond perplexity and complaint.”

“It would indeed be a matter of infinite wonder,” Philosophy said. “It would be something more horrible than any outrage if, as you believe, in the well-ordered house of so great a Father, the worthless items were looked after while the precious ones were neglected and grew filthy. But it is not so.

If your recent conclusions about true happiness and God can remain intact, you can learn from the Creator Himself—since it is His realm we are speaking of—that:

• The good are always strong.
• The wicked are always humbled and weak.
• Sin never goes unpunished.
• Virtue is never unrewarded.
• What happens to good people is always happy in some way.
• What happens to bad people is always a misfortune.

There are many other points like these which, once your complaints have been calmed, will give you firm and solid strength. You have seen the form of true happiness when I showed it to you just now, and you saw where it is to be found. When we have gone through everything that I think we should clear out of the way beforehand, I will show you the path that will bring you back home. I will give your mind wings on which to lift itself. All your unease shall be driven away, and you will be able to return safely to your true homeland. I will be your guide, your path, and your means of travel.”

The Mind’s Ascent to Its True Home (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “For I have swift and speedy wings With which to climb the lofty skies. And when the mind has put them on, It will look down upon the earth below with scorn. (5) It mounts through the air beneath the moon, And far behind, it leaves the clouds. It passes through the sphere of fire, Which receives its heat from the higher ether, Until it rises to the stars, (10) With Phoebus (the Sun) there to join its ways, Or sail with cold and ancient Saturn, As a soldier of his shining rays. Wherever the night is spangled bright, It follows the orbit of a star. (15) And when that orbit’s path is done, It leaves behind the outmost pole of heaven. It treads beneath the speeding ether, Now possessing the holy light. For here the King of kings holds power, (20) Holding the reins of all things tight. Himself unmoving, He moves the chariot of the universe fast, The lord of all things, shining bright.

If that pathway brings you back there – The path you lost and now seek anew – (25) Then, ‘I remember,’ you will say, ‘My true home, my source, my ending too.’ And if you then choose to look again At the lightless earth which you have left, Dictators whom the people fear (30) Will seem like outcasts, homeless and bereft.”

II. The Power of Good and the Weakness of Evil

Then I cried out in wonder at the greatness of her promises. “It’s not that I don’t think you can do it,” I said. “Only please do not keep me waiting, now that you have made me so eager.”

“First then,” she said, “you will be able to see these facts: that the good are always strong, and that the wicked are always deprived of all power. One of these facts is proved by the other. For since good and evil are opposites, the weakness of evil is shown by establishing the strength of good, and the strength of good is shown by establishing the weakness of evil. So, to strengthen your confidence in my teaching, I will proceed along both paths and prove my points doubly.

Now, there are two things on which all performance of human activity depends: will and power. If either of them is lacking, no activity can be performed.

• In the absence of will, a person is unwilling to do something and therefore does not undertake it.
• In the absence of power to do it, the will is useless. So, if you see someone who wants to get something but cannot get it, you can be sure that what they lacked was the power to get what they wanted.” “That is obvious,” I said, “and cannot be denied.”

“And if you see a person who has done what they wanted to do, you will hardly doubt that they had the power to do it, will you?” “No, I wouldn’t.” “Therefore,” Philosophy continued, “people’s power or ability is to be judged by what they can do, and their weakness by what they cannot do.” “I agree.”

“Do you, then, remember how earlier in our argument we reached the conclusion that the instinctive direction of the human will—shown through a variety of pursuits—was entirely towards happiness?” “I remember that this was also proved.” “And you recall that happiness is the good itself? And similarly, that since all people seek happiness, all people desire the good?” “I don’t just recall it,” I said, “I hold it fixed in my mind.” “So, without any difference in basic instinct, all people, good and bad alike, strive to reach the good.” “Yes, that follows.” “But surely people become good by acquiring goodness?” “Yes.” “So, good people obtain what they are looking for?” “It seems so.” “But if the wicked obtained what they want—that is, goodness—they could not be wicked?” “No, they couldn’t.” “Since, then, both groups want goodness, and one group obtains it while the other doesn’t, surely there can be no doubt about the power of the good and the weakness of the bad?” “Anyone who does doubt it,” I said, “is no judge either of reality or of logical argument.”

“Again,” she said, “suppose there were two people who are set the same natural task. One of them performs and completes it by natural action. The other cannot manage the natural action but uses another method that is contrary to nature. This second person does not actually complete the task but only imitates someone completing it. Which of these two would you say had more power?” “I can guess what you mean,” I said, “but I would like to have it put more clearly.”

“You will not deny that the action of walking is natural and human, will you?” “No.” “And presumably you have no doubt that walking is the natural function of the feet?” “No, indeed.” “If, then, one person is able to walk on their feet and does so, and another person lacks the natural function of feet and tries to walk on their hands, which of them may properly be considered more able or powerful?” “Ask me another!” I exclaimed. “No one could doubt that the person who can do the natural action is more able than the one who can’t.”

“Well,” Philosophy explained, “the supreme good is the goal of good people and bad people alike. The good seek it by means of a natural activity—the exercise of their virtues. The bad, however, strive to acquire the very same thing by means of their various desires, which is not a natural method of obtaining the good. Or don’t you agree?” “Yes, I do,” I said. “For what follows is also obvious. From what I have already admitted, it follows that the good are powerful and the bad are weak.”

“You anticipate correctly,” she said. “As doctors like to think, it is a sign of a strong constitution that is fighting back. But since you are so quick to understand, I will pile on the arguments. Just think how great the weakness is that we see in wicked people: they can’t even reach the goal to which their natural inclination leads them, almost by force! What if they were abandoned by this great and almost invincible help from nature, and nature stopped showing them the way?

Think of the extent of the weakness holding back the wicked. It is not as if the prizes they failed to win were mere sports trophies. The quest in which they fail is the quest for the highest and most important of all things. Success is denied these wretched people in the very pursuit they work at night and day, to the exclusion of all else. This is the same pursuit in which the strength of the good stands out.

If a person, by walking, could reach a point beyond which there was nowhere further for them to go, you would consider them the champion at walking. In the same way, you must judge the person who achieves the goal of all endeavors—beyond which there is nothing—to be supreme in power. The opposite of this is also true: those who do not gain it are obviously lacking in all power.

For I ask you, what is the cause of this flight from virtue to vice?

• If you say it is because they do not know what is good, I shall ask: what greater weakness is there than the blindness of ignorance?
• If you say that they know what they ought to seek, but pleasure sends them chasing off the wrong way, then in this way too, they are weak through lack of self-control, because they cannot resist vice.
• And if you say they abandon goodness and turn to vice knowingly and willingly, then in this way they not only cease to be powerful, but they cease to be at all.

People who give up the common goal of all things that exist, thereby cease to exist themselves. Some may perhaps think it strange that we say that wicked people, who form the majority of humanity, do not exist; but that is how it is. I am not trying to deny the wickedness of the wicked. What I do deny is that their existence is absolute and complete existence. Just as you might call a corpse a ‘dead man,’ but couldn’t simply call it a ‘man,’ so I would agree that the wicked are wicked, but I could not agree that they have unqualified, full existence. A thing exists when it keeps its proper place and preserves its own nature. Anything which departs from this ceases to exist, because its existence depends on the preservation of its nature.

To the objection that evil people do have power, I would say that this power of theirs comes from weakness rather than strength. For they would not have the power to do the evil they can do if they could have retained the power of doing good. This so-called power only makes it clearer that they can really do nothing. For if, as we concluded a short time ago, evil is nothing, it is clear that since they can only do evil, the wicked can truly do nothing.” “That is obvious,” I said.

“But I want you to understand the exact nature of the power we are talking about,” Philosophy continued. “A moment ago, we decided that there is nothing with greater power than the supreme good.” “That is so.” “But supreme goodness cannot do evil.” “No.” “Now, no one thinks of human beings as all-powerful, do they?” “Not unless they are mad.” “But humans can do evil?” “I only wish they couldn’t,” I sighed.

“It is obvious, therefore,” she concluded, “that since a power that can only do good is all-powerful, while human beings who can also do evil are not, these same human beings who can do evil are less powerful. In addition to this, we have shown that all forms of power are to be included among those things worth pursuing, and that all these worthwhile objects of pursuit are related to the good as to a kind of supreme example of their nature. Now, the ability to commit a crime cannot be a form of goodness, and is therefore not worth pursuing. But all true forms of power are worth seeking. So, it is obvious that the ability to do evil is not a true form of power.

From all this, the power of good people is obvious, and beyond all doubt, so is the weakness of bad people. And it is clear that what Plato said in his dialogue Gorgias is true: only the wise can achieve what they truly desire, while the wicked keep themselves busy with what gives them pleasure but are unable to achieve their real objective. Their actions depend on the belief that they are going to obtain the good they desire through the things that give them pleasure. But they do not obtain it, because evil things cannot lead to happiness.”

The Inner Tyranny of Wicked Rulers (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “High kings you see sit proudly on thrones, In bright purple robes, protected by sober arms, Making savage threats in passion’s breathless rage. But once you strip from their pride the robes of empty show, You will see within the tightening chains they wear: Here, lust overthrows the heart with poisonous greed, Here, like a wave, wrath whips and carries off sense, Here, captive sorrow sits, or hope torments. Here, in one heart, so many tyrants rule, The king’s own will is overthrown; the enslaver is enslaved.”

III. The Inherent Rewards of Goodness and Punishments of Wickedness

“You can see, therefore,” Philosophy said, “the filth in which crime wallows and the light in which goodness shines. It is clear that good deeds never lack their reward, nor do crimes lack their appropriate punishment. The proper way of looking at it is to regard the goal of every action as its reward, just as the prize for running in the stadium is the wreath of laurels for which the race is run. Now, we have shown that happiness is the very same good which motivates all activity. So, goodness itself is set as a kind of common reward for human activity. But goodness cannot be removed from those who are good; therefore, goodness never fails to receive its appropriate reward. So despite all the raging of the wicked, the wise person’s crown of laurels will never fall from them or wither away. The wickedness of others can never steal their individual glory from good people. If it was a borrowed glory that we prided ourselves upon, other people—including the very one who gave it to us—could take it away. But since the glory is given to each one by their own goodness, they will only lose their reward when they stop being good.

Finally, since every reward is desired because it is believed to be good, no one will consider a person endowed with goodness to be without reward. But what kind of reward? The greatest and most beautiful of all. Think again of that additional insight—the corollary—I emphasized to you a short time ago, and consider it this way: Goodness is happiness, and therefore it is obvious that all good people obtain happiness simply by virtue of their being good. But we agree that those who attain happiness are divine. The reward of the good, then—a reward that can never be decreased, that no one’s power can diminish, and no one’s wickedness can darken—is to become like gods. This being so, no wise person can be in any doubt about the inevitability of the punishment of the wicked. Like good and evil, reward and punishment are opposites. The reward we see is due to the good must be balanced by a corresponding punishment of the wicked. Therefore, just as goodness is its own reward, so the punishment of the wicked is their very wickedness. Now, no one who suffers a punishment doubts that they suffer something evil. So, if they are willing to examine themselves, I do not think people can consider themselves free from punishment when they suffer the worst evil of all: for wickedness is not so much an external affliction as it is a deep-set infection within them.

Again, think of the punishment that follows the wicked from the opposite point of view—that of the good. A short while ago, you learned that all that exists is in a state of unity, and that goodness itself is unity. From this, it follows that we must see everything that exists as good. This means that anything which turns away from goodness ceases to truly exist, and thus the wicked cease to be what they once were. That they used to be human is shown by the human appearance of their body, which still remains. So it was by falling into wickedness that they also lost their human nature. Now, since only goodness can raise a person above the level of humankind, it follows that it is fitting that wickedness thrusts down to a level below humankind those whom it has removed from the condition of being human.

The result is that you cannot think of anyone as truly human whom you see transformed by wickedness.

• You could say that someone who robs with violence and burns with greed is like a wolf.
• A wild and restless person who is forever using their tongue in lawsuits could be compared to a yapping dog.
• A person whose habit is to lie hidden in an ambush and steal by trapping people would be likened to a fox.
• A person of quick temper only has to roar to gain the reputation of having a lion’s heart (though here, implying uncontrolled rage).
• The timid coward who is terrified when there is nothing to fear is thought to be like a deer (hind).
• The person who is lazy, dull, and stupid lives an ass’s life.
• A person of whimsy and fickleness who is forever changing their interests is just like a bird.
• And a person wallowing in foul and impure lusts is occupied by the filthy pleasures of a sow. So what happens is that when a person abandons goodness and ceases to be truly human, being unable to rise to a divine condition, they sink to the level of being an animal.”

The Transformation of Ulysses’s Crew (A Poem)

Philosophy then illustrated this with a story from mythology: “The sails of the lord of Ithaca, Ulysses, And his wandering sea-borne ships Were blown from the East to the island Where a beautiful goddess lives, Circe, daughter of the sun.

For her newly-arrived guests, she mixes Cups she has touched with a spell. In various shapes they are changed By her hands, skilled in herb-lore. One takes the form of a boar. Another, with fang and claw, Becomes a lion of Africa. Another becomes a wolf; He can’t weep, he can only howl. And here, like an Indian tiger, One gently pads around.

Perils surround lord Odysseus (Ulysses), But the winged Arcadian god (Mercury) Takes pity on his plight, And saves him from Circe’s curse. Odysseus’s crew have drunk The evil-powered potions, And they leave the bread that men eat To seek for husks, like pigs. Nothing is left intact; Their voice and body are changed. Only the mind remains To mourn their monstrous plight.”

“But Circe’s hand was weak,” Philosophy continued her song. “Her herbs were powerless. They changed the body’s limbs, But they could not change the heart. Safe in a secret, inner fortress, The true strength of a person lies hidden. Those poisons of vice, though, are stronger. They creep deep within And remove a person’s true self from power. They do not harm the body, But they cruelly wound the mind.”

IV. The Unhappiness of Wickedness and the Justice of Punishment

Then I said, “I agree. I see the justice in saying that wicked people, though they keep the outward appearance of a human body, change into animals with regard to their state of mind. But I could have wished that no freedom was allowed to the fury of cruel and wicked-minded men to bring destruction upon good people.”

“It’s not really a question of freedom for them to do evil,” she said, “as I will show you at the appropriate point. But suppose for a moment that the freedom they are believed to enjoy was actually taken away. This would, to a large extent, mean relieving criminals of their punishment. It may seem incredible to some, but it must be the case that the wicked are less happy if they achieve their evil desires than if they are unable to do what they want. For, if desiring something wicked brings misery, then having had the power to actually do it brings even greater misery. Without that power, the unhappy desire would go unfulfilled. So, since each stage has its own degree of misery, if you see people with the desire to do something wicked, the power to do it, and who then achieve it, they must necessarily suffer a triple degree of misfortune.”

“Yes, I agree,” I said. “But I hope very much that they will soon be released from this misfortune by losing the power to do evil.”

“They will be released from that power sooner than perhaps you would wish, or even sooner than they themselves expect,” Philosophy replied. “For in the very short span of a human life, nothing can be so late in coming that it seems long to wait for to an immortal mind. Their great hope and their ambitious blueprint for crime are often destroyed by a sudden and unexpected end. This, at least, imposes a limit on their misery. For if wickedness is the cause of their misery, it follows that their wickedness makes them more wretched the longer it lasts. If death did not at last end their evil deeds, I would count them the unhappiest of all people. For obviously, if our conclusions about the misfortune of wickedness are true, then any misery which is agreed to be everlasting must be infinite.”

“That is a strange thing to conclude and hard to accept,” I admitted. “But I do see that it fits in with what we have previously agreed upon.”

“You are right,” she said. “But if someone thinks a particular conclusion is hard to accept, they ought to show either that some false assumption was made before it, or that the way the arguments have been put together does not necessarily lead to that conclusion. Otherwise, provided they agree with what has come before, there is absolutely no ground for arguing about the conclusion. What I am going to say next may also seem no less strange, but it is an equally necessary conclusion from our assumptions.” “What is it?” I asked.

The Paradox of Punishment

“It is that the wicked are happier if they suffer punishment than if they are unrestrained by any just consequence,” she stated. “And I am not thinking of what you may assume—namely, that wickedness is corrected by punishment, and people are returned to the path of right by the fear of punishment, and that punishment also serves as an example to others to avoid punishable actions. No, I think there is another way in which the wicked are more unhappy if they go unpunished, apart from any consideration of the corrective effect of punishment or its value as a warning to others.” “What other way is there?” I asked.

“Well,” she began, “we have agreed, haven’t we, that good people are happy and bad people are unhappy?” “Yes.” “Now, if someone’s misery is balanced by something good, he is happier than someone else whose misery is pure and not mixed with any good, isn’t he?” “So it seems.” “What if that same unhappy person, who has no share of anything good, should receive some further evil in addition to those that have already caused his unhappiness? He would have to be considered far more unhappy, wouldn’t he, than the one whose misfortune is lessened by sharing in some good?” “Of course.”

“Now, obviously the punishment of the wicked is just, and their escape from punishment is unjust.” “No one would deny that.” “And no one will deny, too, that what is just is good, and on the other hand, what is unjust is bad.” I agreed this was obvious.

“So,” Philosophy explained, “when the wicked receive punishment, they receive something good—the punishment itself—which is good because of its justice. But when they go unpunished, they acquire some extra evil in actually going free, which you have agreed is bad because of its injustice.” “I cannot deny it.” “Therefore, the wicked are much more unhappy when they are unjustly allowed to go free than when a just punishment is imposed upon them.”

“That is the logical outcome of our previous conclusion,” I said. “But, I ask you, don’t you leave any punishment of the soul until after the death of the body?” “There is, indeed, great punishment then,” she replied. “Sometimes it is carried out with punishing severity; sometimes, I think, with purifying mercy. But it is not my intention to discuss that now.

We have followed the argument this far so that you can see that what you thought of as the entirely undeserved power of the wicked is no real power at all. I wanted you to see that those whose freedom from punishment you were complaining about do not at all escape paying for their wickedness. That freedom of theirs, for whose speedy end you were praying, doesn’t last long and will be more miserable the longer it continues. It will be most miserable of all if it is endless. And lastly, the wicked are more wretched when unjustly excused from punishment than when they receive a just consequence. The logical conclusion of this is that they are burdened with heavier punishment precisely when they are believed to escape it.”

Then I said, “When I consider your arguments, I think nothing more true could be spoken. But when I turn to the opinions of ordinary people, few would even give you a hearing, let alone believe you.”

“That is true,” she said. “Their eyes are used to the dark, and they cannot raise them to the shining light of truth. They are like birds whose sight is sharpened by night and blinded by day. So long as they look only at their own desires and not at the order of creation, they think of freedom to commit crimes and the absence of punishment as happy things. But let us see what is decreed by everlasting law: if you have turned your mind to higher things, there is no need for a judge to award you a prize; it is you yourself who have brought yourself to a more excellent state. But if you have directed your efforts towards lower things, do not look for punishment from outside; it is you yourself who have plunged yourself into a worse condition. It is just as if you look by turns at the sky and then at the dirt of the earth; everything else disappears, and you seem at one moment to be in the mud and at the next moment among the stars, simply by the action of looking. But ordinary people do not see such things.

Well, are we to join these people whom we have shown to be like animals? What about the case of a man who completely lost his sight and even forgot he had ever had it, and then thought that he possessed everything that belonged to human perfection? Would we, who have sight, think the same as that blind man?

And there is something else, equally well founded on a firm base of argument, which they will not agree with: namely, that those who commit an injustice are more unhappy than those who suffer it.” “I would like to hear that argument,” I said.

“Well,” Philosophy began, “I presume you do not deny that every wicked man deserves punishment?” “No, I don’t.” “And it is abundantly clear that the wicked are unhappy?” “Yes.” “Therefore, you would not doubt the unhappiness of those who deserve punishment?” “No.” “Suppose, then, you were sitting in judgment in a law court. On whom would you decide to pass sentence: the man who had committed the wrong, or the man who had suffered it?” “I have no hesitation in saying I would satisfy the one who had suffered, at the expense of the one who had done the wrong.” “So you would think the perpetrator of the injury is more wretched than the victim?” “That follows.”

“For this and other reasons based on the fact that badness, by its own nature, makes men wretched,” Philosophy concluded, “it is clear that when someone is done an injury, the misery belongs not to the victim but to the perpetrator. But the court speakers of today take the opposite course. They try to arouse the sympathy of the court for those who have suffered some grievous and painful injury. However, a more just sympathy is actually due to those who are guilty. They ought to be brought to justice not by a prosecutor with an air of outrage, but by a prosecution that is kind and sympathetic—like sick men being brought to the doctor—so that their guilt could be cut back by punishment, like a malignant growth. In this way, the work of defense lawyers would either completely stop, or, if they chose to benefit mankind, they would turn to the job of accusation. And the wicked themselves, if through some crack they were allowed a glimpse of the virtue they had abandoned, if they could see themselves about to lay aside the filth of vice through the pains of punishment, they would no longer consider them to be pains because of the compensation of acquiring goodness. They would refuse the services of defense counsels and give themselves up wholly to their accusers and judges.

This is why, among wise men, there is no place at all left for hatred. For no one, except the greatest of fools, would hate good men. And there is no reason at all for hating bad men. For just as weakness is a disease of the body, so wickedness is a disease of the mind. And if this is so, since we think of people who are sick in body as deserving sympathy rather than hatred, much more so do those who suffer an evil more severe than any physical illness deserve pity rather than blame.”

A Call for Compassion (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “What pleasure do men find in high passions And tempting fate with a suicidal hand? If they seek death, he’ll soon draw near, uninvited, Giving his horses free rein to speed him forth.

Man is the prey of lion fangs and snakes, Of tigers, bears, and boars; is man the prey Of other men as well? Why does he make battles And long to perish by another’s blade? Because their customs differ – just for this? No just cause there for blood and savageness. You want what you deserve, and not to miss your due reward? Then love the good, and show pity for the bad.”

V. Boethius’s Lingering Question: The Problem of Unequal Fortune

Then I said, “Yes, I can see there is a kind of happiness and misery that are inseparable from the very actions of good and bad men. But I believe that there is both good and bad in the actual fortune experienced by ordinary people. No wise man prefers being in exile, being poor and disgraced, to being rich, respected, and powerful, and to remaining at home and flourishing in his own city. For this is the way that wisdom is more clearly and obviously seen to be operating: when, somehow or other, the happiness of their rulers is communicated to the people they come into contact with. This is especially true if prison and death and all the other sufferings the law imposes as punishment are reserved for the wicked citizens for whom they were intended.

Why this is all turned upside down, why good men are oppressed by punishments meant for crime, and bad men can snatch the rewards that belong to virtue, surprises me very much. I would like to know from you the reason for this very unjust confusion. I would be less surprised if I could believe that the confusion of things is due to the random operations of chance. But my wonder is only increased by the knowledge that the ruling power of the universe is God. Sometimes He is pleasant to the good and unpleasant to the bad. Other times He grants the bad their wishes and denies the good. But since He often varies between these two alternatives, what grounds are there for distinguishing between God and the randomness of chance?”

“It is not surprising,” Philosophy said, “if ignorance of the principle of its order makes people think a thing is unplanned and chaotic. But even if you don’t know the reason behind the great plan of the universe, there is no need for you to doubt that a good power rules the world and that everything happens rightly.”

Understanding Cosmic Order (A Poem)

Philosophy then sang: “If you did not know that the stars of Arcturus Sail near the highest pole of heaven, Or why the Waggoner constellation (Boötes) is slow to set his wagon And late to dip his flames into the sea, Although his rising comes again with haste, The fixed law observed in heaven would leave you dazed.

And if the full moon’s gleaming horns grow pale As night’s shadow extends across her disc (an eclipse); If Phoebe (the Moon), when dimmed, reveals the confused stars Which just before her shining light had masked; Whole nations, moved by common error, Would frequently bang on pots and pans of brass (to drive away the ‘danger’).

Yet no one wonders when the northwest wind Sweeps in the roaring waves to beat the shore, Or when the frozen mass of hard-packed snow Dissolves before the sun’s summer heat. The causes in these cases are clear to view, But a hidden cause confounds the human heart, Perplexed by things that rarely come to pass, For unexpected things cause people to dread. Then let the clouds of ignorance give way, And these events will no more wondrous seem.”

VI. Providence and Fate: God’s Plan and Its Unfolding

“That is so,” I said. “But since it is part of your task to unravel the causes of matters that lie hidden and to unfold reasons veiled in darkness, and since I am very much disturbed by this strange phenomenon of unequal fortune, I do beg you to tell me your teaching on this point.”

She paused and smiled a moment before answering. “You are urging me to discuss the greatest of all questions,” she said, “a question that can never be fully exhausted. The subject is of such a kind that when one doubt has been removed, countless others spring up in its place, like the Hydra’s heads in mythology. The only way to check them is with a really lively intellectual fire. The usual subjects of inquiry in this area concern:

• The oneness of Providence (God’s overarching plan)
• The course of Fate
• The apparently haphazard nature of random events (chance)
• Divine knowledge and predestination
• The freedom of the will. You can see for yourself how difficult these topics are.

However, since knowledge of these things is also part of your treatment, we will try to determine something, despite the narrow limits of time in which we are confined. And if the enchantments of song delight you, you will have to postpone your pleasure a little while I weave together the close-knit arguments in their proper order.” “Whatever you wish,” I said.

Then, as if she were starting a fresh argument, she spoke as follows. “The creation of all things, the whole progress of things that are subject to change, and whatever moves in any way—all these receive their causes, their due order, and their form from the unchanging mind of God. In the high citadel of its oneness, the mind of God has established a plan for the multitude of events.

• When this plan is thought of as existing in the purity of God’s understanding, it is called Providence.
• When this same plan is thought of with reference to all the things whose motion and order it controls, it is called by the name the ancients gave it: Fate.

If anyone will examine their meaning, it will soon be clear to him that these two aspects are different.

• Providence is the divine reason itself. It is set at the head of all things and arranges all things.
• Fate, on the other hand, is the planned order inherent in things subject to change. It is the medium through which Providence binds everything in its own allotted place.

Providence includes all things at the same time, however diverse or infinite they may be. Fate, however, controls the motion of different individual things in different places and at different times. So, this unfolding of God’s plan in time, when brought together as a unified whole in the foresight of God’s mind, is Providence. The same unified whole, when dissolved and unfolded in the course of time, is Fate.

They are different, but the one depends on the other. The order of Fate is derived from the simplicity of Providence. Imagine a craftsman: he first anticipates in his mind the plan of the thing he is going to make. Then, he sets in motion the execution of the work and carries out in time the construction of what he has seen all at one moment present to his mind’s eye. In the same way, God in His Providence constructs a single, fixed plan of all that is to happen. It is by means of Fate that all He has planned is realized in its many individual details in the course of time.

So, whether the work of Fate is done with the help of divine spirits who serve Providence, or whether the chain of Fate is woven by the soul of the universe, or by the obedience of all nature, by the celestial motions of the stars, or by the power of angels, by the various skills of other spirits, or by some of these, or by all of them—one thing is certainly clear:

• Providence is the simple and unchanging plan of events in God’s mind.
• Fate is the ever-changing web, the arrangement in and through time of all the events which God has planned in His simplicity.

Everything, therefore, which comes under Fate is also subject to Providence, to which Fate itself is subject. But certain things which come under Providence are above the chain of Fate. These are things which rise above the order of change ruled over by Fate, because of the stability of their position close to the supreme Godhead. Imagine a set of revolving concentric circles. The inmost one comes closest to the simplicity of the center, while also forming a kind of center for those circles set outside it to revolve around.”

The Universe and a Central Point

Think of a series of circles. The circle farthest out is the biggest and covers the most space. The closer a circle is to the very center, the smaller and simpler it is. It doesn’t spread out as much.

It’s similar with how things relate to the main source of intelligence, like God.

• The farther something moves from this central intelligence, the more tangled it gets in the strong grip of Fate. Fate here means the chain of cause and effect that shapes events.
• The closer something gets to this center, the freer it is from Fate.

If something connects closely with the steady, unchanging mind of God, it stops being tossed around by events. It escapes the demands of Fate.

You can think about the relationship between Fate and Providence (God’s overarching plan) in these ways:

• Fate is like reasoning step-by-step, while Providence is like direct understanding.
• Fate deals with things that are changing and becoming, while Providence deals with things that truly are, in their permanent state.
• Fate is like time, always moving, while Providence is like eternity, which is timeless.
• Fate is like a moving circle, while Providence is like the still point at the very center.

How Fate Works

Fate is the force that:

• Moves the sky and stars.
• Controls how the basic elements of the world interact and change into one another.
• Renews all living things as they are born and die, through generations of plants and animals.
• Also governs the actions and fortunes of people through an unbreakable chain of causes.

Since Fate comes from unchanging Providence (God’s plan), the causes it sets in motion are also unchanging. This is the best way to manage the universe. The simplicity of God’s mind creates a steady order of causes. This order controls everything that changes, so that things don’t just happen randomly.

Why Things Seem Confused

You humans often feel that everything is confused and chaotic. This is because you can’t fully see or understand this divine order. But the truth is, everything has its proper place and is guided towards good. Nothing happens just because of evil, or because wicked people plan it. As we’ve already discussed, people who do wrong are actually mistaken in their search for good. The order that comes from the highest good at the center of the universe doesn’t lead anyone away from their true starting point.

The Question of Fairness

You might argue that it seems incredibly unfair when both good and bad people experience a mix of good luck and bad luck. Their lives go up and down. But I would ask you: Are people truly wise enough to judge correctly who is good and who is bad? No, people often disagree about this. Some think certain individuals deserve rewards, while others believe those same people should be punished.

Seeing Deeper Than Human Judgment

Let’s imagine someone could perfectly tell good people from bad. Even then, they couldn’t see into the hidden, inner nature of people’s minds.

You might be surprised by this, like someone who doesn’t understand why:

• Some healthy people enjoy sweet foods, while others prefer bitter ones.
• Some sick people get better with gentle medicines, while others need strong ones.

But a doctor isn’t surprised. A doctor understands the differences between health and sickness and what each person needs.

Think of it this way:

• For the mind, goodness is like health.
• Wickedness is like sickness.

God is the protector of the good and the one who challenges the wicked. He is like a guide and a doctor for the mind. From His high viewpoint (Providence), God sees what is suitable for each person. He then applies whatever He knows is best for them. This is the amazing thing about the order of Fate: a wise God acts, and people, who don’t have this full knowledge, can only look on and wonder at what He does.

Understanding God’s Deep Wisdom

Let’s look at a few examples of God’s deep ways, as much as human reason can understand them.

• You might see someone as perfectly just and a great defender of what’s right. But all-knowing Providence might see it differently. For instance, the poet Lucan wrote about the war between Caesar and Pompey. The side that won (Caesar’s) pleased the gods. But the losing side pleased Cato, who was known as a very virtuous man. So, when you see something happen that doesn’t match what you expect, remember that events are following a true order. It’s your own thinking that is confused or mistaken.

• Now, imagine there’s a person so good that both God and people agree on their goodness. However, this person might still be weak in their inner strength. If something terrible happened to them, they might give up on being good because it didn’t bring them good fortune. So, God’s wise plan might spare such a person from severe hardship. This prevents distress for someone who isn’t ready for it.

• Consider another person who is perfect in every virtue, very holy, and extremely close to God. Providence might decide it would be wrong for this person to suffer any hardship at all. They might even be protected from physical illness. As someone wiser than me once said: “Heaven built the body of the holy person.”

• Often, good people are given great power. This can help to stop extreme wickedness from spreading.

• Other people experience a mix of good and bad fortune, depending on their inner character and strength of mind.

  • Providence might “sting” some people with minor troubles. This is to prevent them from having too much uninterrupted happiness, which could be harmful.
  • Others are allowed to face serious difficulties. This helps them strengthen their virtues, like patience, through practice.
  • Some people are terrified of suffering they could actually handle. Others look down on suffering they actually can’t bear. Hardships can lead both types to discover their true selves.
  • Some people have achieved lasting fame, admired for generations, by dying a glorious death.
  • Some, by refusing to give in to punishment, have shown others that evil cannot defeat virtue.

There’s no doubt that these things happen for good reasons. They are planned, and they are appropriate for the people who experience them.

Why the Wicked Experience Ups and Downs

The fact that wicked people also have good times and bad times happens for similar reasons.

• When wicked people suffer: No one is usually surprised, because most people think they deserve bad things. Their punishments can also:
  • Discourage others from committing crimes.
  • Help correct the wicked individuals themselves.
• When wicked people prosper: This can be a strong lesson for good people. It teaches them how to view the kind of happiness that wicked people often seem to enjoy (that is, not to see it as the ultimate good).
  • There might be another plan here too. Perhaps someone is naturally reckless and impulsive. Poverty might easily push them into crime. Providence might give this person wealth as a kind of medicine to prevent this.
  • Another person might see that their conscience is stained by their wicked actions. They might compare what they have with what they deserve. They might start to fear losing the pleasant things they enjoy. This fear could make them change their ways and give up wickedness to avoid losing their happiness.
  • Others have been thrown into well-deserved disaster because they used their good fortune badly.
  • Some wicked people have been allowed to have power to punish others. This can serve as a test for good people and a punishment for other bad people.

Just as good and bad people don’t agree, bad people often can’t even agree among themselves. This makes sense because their own bad habits tear at their conscience. Each one is fighting an inner battle. They often do things they later realize they shouldn’t have done.

Evil Can Lead to Good

So, God’s supreme Providence has often brought about a surprising result: evil people can cause other evil people to become good. How? Some people, when they feel they are being treated unfairly by the worst kind of individuals, develop a strong hatred for evil people. Wanting to be different from those they hate, they change their ways and become virtuous.

Only God has the power to make bad things also serve a good purpose. He does this by using them in the right way to produce a good outcome. A specific order covers everything. If anything moves away from the path that was planned and assigned for it, it simply falls back into order. It might be a different part of the overall order, but it still fits. This ensures that nothing in God’s realm of Providence is left to chance.

Human Limits and a Moment of Rest

But, as Homer wrote in the Iliad, “It is hard for me to speak as though a god.” A human being is not able to understand all the details of God’s work or explain them fully in words.

Let this be enough for now:

• God, the creator of all things, orders everything and directs it all towards goodness.
• He quickly guides everything He has created to reflect His own nature.
• Through the chain of cause and effect (Fate), He removes all evil from His kingdom.

Evil may seem to be everywhere on earth. But if you could see the complete plan of Providence, you would realize that there is no true evil anywhere.

But I see you have been struggling with the weight of this difficult question for a long time. You are tired from this lengthy explanation and are probably looking forward to something more uplifting, like a song. So, take a moment to refresh yourself with this. It will help you think more clearly about what comes next.

The Harmony of the Universe (A Song of Order)

If you want to clearly see and understand God’s laws with a pure mind, you must look to the highest point of heaven. There, the stars move in their ancient, peaceful paths because of a lawful agreement that governs all things.

• The bright sun, full of fire, does not block the cold moon’s path.
• The Great Bear constellation, which circles high in the sky near the North Pole and never dips below the western horizon, does not wish to chase other stars that set in the ocean. It doesn’t try to hide its light beneath the Atlantic.
• The Evening Star reliably announces the coming of dusk each day. Then, it reappears as the Morning Star at dawn.

So, these endless movements are constantly renewed. This happens because of a mutual love or attraction between things. Conflict is kept away from the heavens above.

This same harmony also controls the basic elements of the world with equal balance:

• Wetness and dryness take turns yielding to each other.
• Cold and heat exist together peacefully.
• Fire, which tends to rise, shoots up into the air.
• The heavy earth sinks downward.

Because of these balanced interactions:

• When spring arrives and warms the earth, the year brings forth fragrant flowers.
• Hot summer days ripen the corn.
• Autumn returns, rich with fruit.
• Falling rains bring moisture to the winter days.

This balanced mixture of elements does two things:

1. It brings to life and nourishes everything that breathes on earth.
2. It also takes, hides, and carries away all things when they reach their final end in death.

Meanwhile, the Lord of all things sits on high. He rules and guides the course of everything that is made. He is their:

• King and Lord
• Source and Origin
• Law, and the Judge of what is right and proper.

He sets all things in motion. He also holds them steady and brings them back if they wander off course. If He did not call them back to their true paths and force them to complete their proper orbits, then all those things that are now protected by stable order would fall apart, separated from their true source.

This guiding principle is the love that all things share. Their chosen goal and ultimate aim is the end of good. There is no other way they can expect to last, unless they return love with love and seek once more the Cause that gave them life.

---

VII

“Do you now understand the main point of everything we’ve discussed?” “No, what is it?” “It is this: All fortune is definitely good.” “How can that possibly be?” “Listen closely. All fortune, whether it seems pleasant or difficult, has a purpose:

• For good people, it is meant to either reward them or discipline them.
• For bad people, it is meant to either punish them or correct them. So, we agree that every kind of fortune is either just or useful. Therefore, all fortune is good.”

“Your argument makes a lot of sense. If I think about the Providence and Fate you just explained, your idea seems solid. But let’s count this among those ideas that we earlier called ‘hard to believe.’” “Why do you say that?” she asked. “Because it’s very common for people to say that someone has ‘bad fortune.’ They say it all the time.” “So, you’d like us to use more everyday language? This way, it won’t seem like we’ve moved too far from how people normally talk?” “Yes, please.”

“Alright. You consider something that is useful to be good, don’t you?” “Yes.” “And fortune that either disciplines or corrects someone is useful, isn’t it?” “Yes.” “So, that kind of fortune is good?” “Yes.” “Now, this is the kind of fortune experienced by people who are:

• already trying to live a virtuous life when they face challenges, or
• turning towards a virtuous life after leaving behind bad ways.” “That’s true.”

“What about the pleasant fortune that is given to good people as a reward? People don’t say this is bad, do they?” “No. They consider it to be extremely good, which it is.”

“Then what about the last kind of fortune? This is the difficult fortune that punishes bad people as they deserve. Do people think this is good?” “No, they don’t. They think it’s the most miserable thing imaginable.”

“Be careful! By trying to stick too closely to popular opinions, we might have ended up with something truly hard to believe!” “What do you mean?” “Well, based on everything we’ve agreed upon, here’s the result:

• Whatever fortune comes to those who possess virtue (whether their virtue is perfect, still growing, or just starting) is good.
• On the other hand, the fortune of everyone who remains stuck in wickedness is completely bad.” “This is true,” he said, “even if nobody would dare to admit it openly.”

“Exactly. So, a wise person shouldn’t be more upset when they face misfortune than a brave soldier should be by the sounds of battle. For both of them, their distress is actually an opportunity.

• For the soldier, it’s a chance to win glory.
• For the wise person, it’s a chance to strengthen their wisdom. This is why virtue gets its name. It comes from being firm in strength and not being defeated by adversity.”

“You are on the path of increasing your virtue. You haven’t come this far only to give in to easy pleasures or become lazy. You are involved in a tough but important struggle against every kind of fortune. The goal is:

• To avoid being defeated by fortune when it is harsh.
• To avoid being corrupted by fortune when it is favorable. Hold firmly to the middle way with unbreakable strength. Anyone who aims too low or goes too far misses out on true happiness and gets no reward for their efforts. It is in your own hands to decide what kind of fortune you want to create for yourself. Remember, adversity (hardship) serves only these functions: discipline, correction, or punishment.”

Great Examples of Facing Adversity

• Agamemnon, the relentless son of Atreus, fought for ten long years at Troy. He did this to get revenge for a broken marriage promise. The same Agamemnon, when he wanted the Greek fleet to sail, bought favorable winds with blood. He had to put aside his feelings as a father and, like a cold-hearted priest, tragically killed his own daughter.

• Odysseus cried for his lost companions. The giant Cyclops, Polyphemus, trapped them in his huge cave and ate them. But later, the blinded Cyclops roared in pain, paying for his cruel joy with terrible tears.

• The great Hercules is famous for his difficult tasks:

  • He tamed the proud Centaurs at Pholoë.
  • He won the pelt of the Nemean lion.
  • His arrows struck down the Stymphalian birds.
  • He snatched the golden apples of the Hesperides from under the watch of a dragon.
  • He captured Cerberus, the guard dog of the underworld, and led him away in chains.
  • After he captured the man-eating mares of Diomedes, he fed their own master to them.
  • He burned the Hydra, a many-headed serpent, so its poison was gone.
  • He defeated the river god Achelous, who hid his face in shame.
  • He defeated Antaeus in Libya.
  • He dealt with Cacus, satisfying Evander’s desire for justice.
  • The Erymanthian boar dirtied those same shoulders that were destined to hold up the heavens.

• His final task was to hold up the sky on his unbending neck. For this last great achievement, he earned his place in heaven as a reward.

So, go now, you strong ones! Follow the high path shown by these great examples. Why do you hold back? Why do you turn away? Once you have overcome the challenges of the earth, it offers you the stars.

Book V

Section I: The Question of Chance

Lady Philosophy stopped speaking. She was about to talk about other things, but I interrupted her.

“Your encouragement is very helpful and wise,” I said. “But you mentioned earlier that the idea of Providence (God’s guiding plan) is connected to many other questions. I’d like to explore one of those. Do you think chance is a real thing? And if so, what is it?”

“I promised to help you,” she replied, “and I am ready to guide you back to your true spiritual home. These other topics are interesting and useful to know. However, they are a bit off our main path. I worry you might get too tired from these side discussions to complete the main journey.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “Learning about these things that fascinate me will feel like a rest. Besides, your arguments so far have been very strong and trustworthy. So, I have no doubt about what you’ll say next.”

“I will do as you wish,” she said, and she began right away.

What is Chance?

“Let’s first think about what ‘chance’ could mean,” she started. “If chance means an event caused by random movement, with no connection to any series of causes, then I would say that chance doesn’t really exist. In that case, ‘chance’ is just an empty word, apart from being the topic we’re discussing now.

“If God puts order into all things, then there’s no room for random events to just happen. There’s a true saying: ‘Nothing comes from nothing.’ All the ancient thinkers agreed on this. They used it as a basic principle in their study of the natural world, especially about physical objects, not so much about the original causes that make things happen.

“If something truly happens for no cause at all, it must come from nothing. But if that’s impossible, then it’s also impossible for ‘chance’ (defined as a causeless random event) to exist.”

“Well then,” I asked, “isn’t there anything that can correctly be called ‘chance’ or ‘accidental’? Aren’t these words useful for describing something, even if most people don’t fully understand what that something is?”

“My student Aristotle,” she said, “offered a short definition of chance in his book Physics. His definition is close to the truth.”

“What is it?” I asked.

Aristotle’s View of Chance

“Here’s the idea,” she explained. “Sometimes, a person does something for a specific purpose. But, for certain other reasons, something different from what they intended actually happens. This unexpected outcome is called chance.

“For example, imagine someone starts digging in the ground to prepare a field for planting crops. While digging, they find a hidden stash of gold. People might believe this happened by chance. But it doesn’t come from nothing; it has its own causes. The ‘chance’ event happened because of an unforeseen and unexpected meeting of these causes.

“Think about it:

• If the farmer hadn’t been digging in that spot, the gold wouldn’t have been found then.
• If the original owner hadn’t buried the gold right there, it wouldn’t have been there to find.

“So, these are the causes of this lucky discovery. It’s the result of different chains of causes coming together, not because of what either person intended. Neither the person who buried the gold nor the farmer tilling the field intended for the farmer to find the money. But, as I said, it happens because the farmer started digging right where the other person had buried something.

“So, we can define chance like this: Chance is an unexpected event that happens when the causes leading to it combine with an action someone took for a different purpose.

“The way these causes meet and coincide is actually part of that larger order. This order flows from the source of Providence (God’s plan). Providence arranges all things in their proper time and place through an unbreakable connection of causes.”

A Poem About Chance and Order

She then offered a poetic illustration:

Imagine the land of Parthia, where soldiers on horseback sometimes turn to shoot arrows at their enemies even while retreating through the rugged Armenian hills. Nearby, the Tigris and Euphrates rivers start from the same source. But they quickly split and flow in different directions.

If these two rivers were to meet again and join into a single course, everything their waters carry would come together there.

• Ships might meet.
• Uprooted tree trunks would gather.
• Their mingling waters would create seemingly random paths.

Yet, even this apparent randomness—the way the land slopes, the way the water flows downwards—would still be governed by natural laws. So, chance, which seems to wander freely without any control, actually follows rules and obeys a hidden law.

Section II: Understanding Free Will

“I understand,” I said. “And I agree with what you’re saying. But in this interconnected chain of causes you’ve described, is there any room for free will? Or does this chain of Fate also control the thoughts and impulses of the human mind?”

“There is freedom,” she replied. “It would be impossible for any being with reason to exist without it.

• Whatever naturally has the use of reason also has the power of judgment to decide on any matter. It can tell for itself what to avoid and what to desire.
• A person pursues what they judge to be desirable and avoids what they think is undesirable.

“So, creatures that have this built-in power of reason also have the freedom to choose or not to choose. However, I don’t claim that this freedom is equal in all beings.

• Celestial and divine beings (like angels or higher spirits) possess clear-sighted judgment, a will that isn’t corrupted, and the power to achieve what they desire. They have the most freedom.
• Human souls are more free when they keep their attention on the mind of God. They become less free when they focus on their physical bodies. They are even less free when they are, in a sense, imprisoned in their earthly flesh and blood.
• They reach the lowest point, a kind of slavery, when they give themselves over to wickedness and lose their ability to reason properly. Once they turn their eyes away from the light of truth above and look towards lower, dimmer things, they quickly become clouded by the mists of ignorance. Destructive passions then torment them. By giving in to these passions, they actually help create the slavery they have brought upon themselves. In a way, they become prisoners of their own freedom.

“Even so, all of this is visible to the eye of Providence. Providence looks out at all things from the perspective of eternity and arranges rewards that are predestined, according to what each person deserves.”

A Poem About God’s All-Seeing Nature

She continued with another poem:

Homer, with his beautiful words, sings of how the brightly shining sun sees all things and hears all things. And yet, the sun’s rays are too weak to pierce far beneath the surface. The sun cannot see into the depths of the earth or the deepest parts of the sea.

But this is not true for the Founder of the world (God). Nothing is hidden from His high gaze. He sees:

• The densest forms of matter.
• The darkness of cloudy night.

What is, what was, and what is to come—His mind can see it all in a single, swift glance. All things are seen by Him alone. We should consider Him the true sun.

Section III: The Conflict Between God’s Foreknowledge and Free Will

“Look,” I said, “I find something else even more difficult. It’s perplexing and confusing.” “Tell me,” she said, “though I think I can guess what is troubling you.”

“Well,” I began, “these two ideas seem completely opposed to each other: God’s universal foreknowledge and human free will.

“If God foresees all things and cannot be mistaken in any way, then whatever Providence has foreseen as a future event must happen. “So, if God, from all eternity, foreknows not only people’s actions but also their thoughts and desires, there will be no freedom of the will. No action or desire will be able to exist other than what God’s infallible Providence has foreseen. “Because if our actions or desires could be changed and made different from how God foresaw them, then His foreknowledge of the future wouldn’t be certain. It would only be an uncertain opinion. And I don’t think we can believe that about God.

A Common Argument and Its Flaw

“I don’t agree with the argument some people use to try and solve this problem—like cutting a difficult knot.

• They say that it’s not that something must happen because Providence has foreseen it.
• Instead, they say, it’s the other way around: because something is going to happen, it cannot be hidden from divine Providence.

“In this way, the idea of ‘necessity’ (that things must happen a certain way) is shifted. They claim it’s not necessary that what is foreseen must happen. Instead, it’s necessary that what is destined to happen must be foreseen. “It’s as if the main point was about which is the cause: Does foreknowledge of the future cause events to be necessary? Or does the necessity of events cause God to have foreknowledge?

“But what I am trying to show is that, regardless of the order of these causes, the happening of things that are foreknown is necessary. This is true even if the foreknowledge of future events doesn’t seem to force that necessity upon them.

An Example: A Person Sitting

“Consider this:

• If a man is sitting, then the opinion that concludes ‘he is sitting’ must be true.
• And, on the other hand, if the opinion about the man is true (because he is indeed sitting), then it is necessary that he is sitting. “So, there is necessity in both parts: in the fact that the man is sitting, and in the fact that the opinion is true. “But the man doesn’t sit because the opinion is true. Rather, the opinion is true because it was preceded by the man’s act of sitting. So, although the cause of the opinion’s truth comes from one side (the man’s action), there is still a shared necessity on both sides.

“Clearly, the same reasoning applies to Providence and future events. Even if events are foreseen because they are going to happen (and not that they happen because they are foreseen), it is still necessary that either:

1. Future events are foreseen by God, OR
2. Things foreseen happen as they were foreseen. And this alone is enough to remove freedom of the will.

Further Problems with Foreknowledge and Necessity

“Besides, how absurd it is to say that the occurrence of temporary, passing events is the cause of God’s eternal foreknowledge! Yet, the idea that God foresees the future because it is destined to happen is the same as believing that everyday events are the cause of that supreme Providence.

“Moreover, just as when I know something is currently happening, it is necessary that it is so; in the same way, when I know that something is to be in the future, it is necessary that it shall be. Therefore, it seems that the occurrence of a foreknown event cannot be avoided.

“Finally, if anyone thinks something is different from what it actually is, that isn’t knowledge. It’s a false opinion, very far from the truth of real knowledge. So, if something is destined to happen in such a way that its occurrence is not certain and necessary, who could possibly foreknow that it is to happen? “For just as true knowledge is pure and contains no falsehood, so that which is understood by knowledge cannot be other than how it is understood. Indeed, the reason there is no deception in knowledge is because it is necessary for things to be exactly as knowledge understands them to be.

The Core Dilemma

“The question, therefore, is: How can God foreknow that these things will happen, if they are uncertain?

• If He thinks that they will inevitably happen, while the possibility of their not happening still exists, then He is mistaken. And it is wicked both to think and to say that God could be mistaken.
• But if His knowledge that they will happen as they do is of a kind where He knows they may equally not happen as happen, what sort of knowledge is this? It comprehends nothing sure or stable. How does it differ from that ridiculous prophecy of Tiresias that Horace wrote about in his Satires: ‘Whatever I say either will be or won’t be’?”

“And how is divine Providence superior to mere human opinion if, like humans, it considers things uncertain whose occurrence is actually uncertain? If there can be no uncertainty at that most sure source of all things (God), then the coming to pass of those things which God firmly foreknows as future events is certain. “Therefore, it seems human thoughts and actions have no freedom. The divine mind, by foreseeing all things without being misled by any falsehood, binds human thoughts and actions to a single way of occurring.

Dire Consequences of Losing Free Will

“Once this is admitted, the extent of the disruption to human affairs is obvious.

• It’s pointless to offer rewards to the good and punishment to the bad, because their actions were not deserved by any free and willed movement of their mind.
• That which is now judged most fair—the punishment of the wicked and the reward of the good—will be seen as the most unjust of all. This is because people would be driven to good or evil not by their own will, but by the fixed necessity of what is to be.
• Neither vice nor virtue would have any real existence; all merit would be mixed up and impossible to tell apart. Nothing more wicked can be imagined than this. For if the whole order of things comes from Providence, and there is no room for human choices, it follows that our wickedness, too, must come from the Author of all good (God).

“It is pointless, therefore, to hope for anything or pray to escape anything. What can a person hope for, or pray to escape, when an unchangeable chain binds everything that can be wished for?

“And so, the one and only means of communication between humans and God is removed—that is, hope and prayer. We hope to obtain, for the price of genuine humility, the priceless return of divine grace. This is the only way it seems people can talk with God and connect themselves to that unreachable light before they fully obtain it—by means of prayer. And if admitting the necessity of future events means believing that hope and prayer have no power, what way will be left for us to be joined and united to that supreme Lord of the world? “Cut off and separated from its source, the human race, as you were singing just now, will be destined to grow weak and exhausted.”

A Poem on the Mind’s Search for Truth

He then recited a poem expressing this struggle:

What warring cause creates such a divide, Breaking the bonds that hold things side-by-side? What God has set such hatred between two truths— That things established separately, like God’s foreknowledge and our free will, Refuse to share a common, peaceful yoke?

Or is there really no conflict between these truths, Which, always sure, should join in unity? Is it that our mind, weighed down by a “blind” body, Is too dim, too powerless, To see the slender, subtle links connecting things?

If so, why does the mind burn with such a great love To learn the secret signs and ways of truth? Perhaps it already knows what it now seeks to learn. But who still tries to learn things that he already knows? And if the mind does not know, what does it then seek in its blindness? For who could search in ignorance for just anything? Or who could look for something that was unknown to him? And if he found it, how could his ignorance recognize its hidden form?

Perhaps when the mind once directly saw the mind of God, It perceived both the whole sum of truths and all their separate parts. Now, hidden in the body’s density, It does not lose all memory of itself. The many separate truths are lost, yet still It holds onto the sum, the general outline.

Therefore, whoever seeks the truth Is in a state between knowing and not knowing: He does not fully know, And yet he is not wholly ignorant. So he reflects upon the sum of truth he has kept in mind, And thinks of what he saw on high with God, Hoping that he may add the parts he has forgotten To that which he still retains.

Section IV: Philosophy Begins Her Explanation

Then Philosophy spoke. “This is an old complaint about Providence. Cicero discussed it forcefully in his book On Divination, and you yourself have thought about it a great deal. But up to now, none of you has explained it with enough care and precision.

“The reason for this blindness is that the way human reasoning works cannot get close to the immediacy of divine foreknowledge. If this immediacy—this direct, all-at-once way God knows—could be understood somehow, all uncertainty would be removed. Later on, I will try to explain it and make it clear, after I have first dealt with the specific matters that are troubling you now.

Revisiting an Earlier Argument

“Let’s consider those who believe that foreknowledge does not force necessity upon future events, and who think that free will is not damaged by foreknowledge. I would like to know why you find their reasoning ineffective. “The only source of your proof that the future is ‘predestined’ (or necessarily fixed) is your belief that what is foreknown cannot fail to happen. “Therefore, if—as you yourself were just saying some people argue—foreknowledge does not impose any necessity on the future, then why would acts of the will be forced to be predestined or necessary?”

Thought Experiments

“But for the sake of argument, so you can see what follows, let us say that there is no foreknowledge at all. In this case, actions of the will are not forced to be predestined, are they?” “No,” I agreed.

“Again,” she continued, “let us say that there IS foreknowledge, but it does not impose any necessity on things. In this scenario, the same freedom of the will remains, I think, absolute and undamaged.

Foreknowledge as a Sign, Not a Cause

“But, you will say, ‘Even if foreknowledge is not the same as the necessity of the future, it is a sign that the future will inevitably happen.’ “In that case,” Philosophy responded, “even if there were no foreknowledge, everyone would still agree that the occurrence of future events is predestined. This is because signs only represent what they point to; they don’t cause it.

“So, the first thing to do is to show that nothing happens other than by necessity. Only then can foreknowledge be seen as a sign of this necessity. Otherwise, if there is no underlying necessity, then that foreknowledge cannot be a sign of something that doesn’t exist. “But we all agree that we cannot build a strong, rationally founded proof from signs or arguments brought in from outside the main issue. A real proof must come from arguments that fit together logically and lead from one to the next.

Events Happening vs. Events Being Necessitated

“It cannot be that what is foreseen as a future event does not come to pass. That would be like us believing that what Providence foreknows as future events is not going to happen. Instead, we should believe that although they do happen, they were not predestined by their own nature to be necessary.

“You can easily see it this way: We see many things happening before our eyes as they occur. For example, we see the actions charioteers perform to control and drive their chariots, and other things like that. But no necessity forces any of them to happen in that exact way, does it?” “No,” I replied, “for if they all happened out of necessity, the exercise of skill would be pointless.”

“Therefore,” she said, “all those things which happen without happening out of necessity are, before they happen, future events that are about to happen, but not necessarily about to happen. “For just as our knowledge of present things imposes no necessity on what is currently happening, so foreknowledge imposes no necessity on what is going to happen.

The Core of the Disagreement

“But this,” Philosophy acknowledged, “is the very point in question, you will say: Can there be any foreknowledge of things whose occurrence is not inevitable? “There seems to be a contradiction here. You think that:

1. The necessity of events follows from their being foreseen.
2. If there is no necessity (meaning, if events are uncertain or free), they cannot be foreknown. “This is because you believe that nothing can be grasped by knowledge unless it is certain.”

If you believe that uncertain events are foreseen as if they were certain, that’s just unclear thinking, not true knowledge. You also believe that having opinions about something that differ from the actual facts is not the same as having complete knowledge.

The Knower Matters More Than the Known

“The cause of this mistake,” she continued, “is that people think all their knowledge depends only on the nature of the things they are trying to know, and on how ‘knowable’ those things are. But this is completely wrong. “Everything that is known is understood not according to its own nature, but according to the ability to know of those who are doing the knowing.

“Let’s use a quick example to make this clear. Think about the roundness of a ball.

• Your sight recognizes this roundness in one way. It stays at a distance and sees the whole shape at once using rays of light.
• Your touch recognizes it in another way. It comes close to the ball, grasps it, and perceives the roundness part by part.

“Similarly, a human being can be understood in different ways, depending on the faculty used:

1. Sense-perception: This examines a person’s physical shape as it exists in matter. For example, seeing their height or the color of their eyes.
2. Imagination: This considers a person’s shape alone, without the physical matter. You can imagine a person’s face even when they are not there.
3. Reason: This goes beyond imagination. It thinks about the universal category or type (like ‘humanity’) that is present in individual people. Reason understands what makes a human a human.
4. Intelligence (Divine Insight): This is the highest ‘eye’ or way of knowing. It goes beyond the entire physical universe to see the simple, pure ‘form’ or essence of things directly with the mind’s pure vision.

Higher Knowledge Includes Lower Knowledge

“The most important point here is this: A higher way of knowing includes the lower ways, but it’s impossible for a lower way to rise up to a higher way.

• The senses cannot understand anything beyond physical matter.
• Imagination doesn’t think about universal categories like ‘humanity’ or ‘justice.’
• Reason doesn’t directly grasp the simple, pure ‘form’ or essence of things that Intelligence sees.

“But Intelligence, looking down from above, first perceives that pure form. Then, it distinguishes all the things that are below it. It understands that essential form itself, which no other way of knowing could grasp.

• Intelligence knows what Reason knows (universals).
• It knows what Imagination knows (shapes).
• It knows what the Senses know (matter). It does all this not by using reason, imagination, or senses step-by-step, but with a single glance of its mind, understanding things through their essential form.

“Reason, too, when it looks at something universal (like the definition ‘a human is a two-legged, rational animal’), it does so without directly using imagination or the senses. Yet, it understands things that can be imagined and sensed. Reason defines this universal idea through rational understanding, not by looking at a picture or touching something.

“Imagination might have first developed its ability to see and form figures from the senses. However, even without the senses being active, imagination can still review all physical objects—not by sensing them again, but through its own imaginative way of perceiving.

“So you see, in their way of knowing, all these faculties use their own ability to know, rather than just relying on how ‘knowable’ the objects themselves are. And this is completely appropriate. Since every judgment is an action of the one who judges, it’s necessary that each faculty performs its work using its own power, not someone else’s.”

A Poem on How the Mind Knows

Lady Philosophy then shared a poem reflecting on different theories of knowledge:

Some ancient teachers, the Stoics, who taught in a place called the Painted Porch, Once told their students, who were trying to understand deep ideas, To think of things the senses learn As images simply stamped upon the mind, Coming from physical bodies all around them. They thought of it like using a swift pen, As was once the custom, to print Letters deep into a smooth sheet of wax, Previously untouched by any mark or scratch.

But if the active mind, by its own power, Can learn or find nothing new, And just lies passively, waiting to receive The imprint of physical things from the outside; If the mind is like a mirror, only reflecting The empty images of things; Then where does this strong understanding in our minds come from, This ability that sees and understands all things? What power allows us to see individual things? Where does this powerful understanding come from, That sees everything and figures everything out? This power that can see particular details, Then analyze what it sees, Then put that analysis back together in new ways, And move forward by exploring different paths? How can it tell true things from false ones?

This power must be a cause that is more powerful, More forceful, and more effective Than something that just passively waits For the stamp of physical matter from the outside.

And yet, for living things, a kind of passivity (being acted upon) Comes before the mind’s power is called forth and stirred into action. It’s like when light strikes the eye, Or when voices make a sound in the ear. Then, the active power of the mind is awakened. It calls forth the patterns and ideas (called ‘species’) from within itself, Moving them in ways similar to the incoming sensations. It fits these inner patterns to the marks impressed from the outside, And mixes the images it has received With the forms and ideas it hides within itself.

Section V: Different Levels of Knowing for Different Beings

“So,” Philosophy continued, “if even when we perceive physical things, external experiences strike our senses, and this physical effect comes before mental activity—an effect that stimulates the mind and calls up the hidden forms within it—if, as I say, in perceiving physical things the mind is not just passively affected but actively judges the experience that the body undergoes, then think about beings whose way of knowing is free from all physical influences. They can stir their minds to activity without needing external things to react to in order to perceive.

“Based on this argument, therefore, many different kinds of knowledge have been given to different types of beings:

• Mere sensation (just sensing things) is given to animals that cannot move, like mussels and other shellfish that grow on rocks. They only experience basic feelings or impressions.
• Imagination is given to animals that can move and that seem to have some desire to choose or avoid things. Think of a dog that seems to remember its owner or a path.
• Reason belongs only to the human race.
• Intelligence (the highest form of direct understanding) belongs only to God.

“The result is that the kind of knowing that, by its very nature, understands not only its own objects but also the objects of the other, lower kinds of knowing, is superior to them.

An Argument Between Ways of Knowing

“Suppose, then, that the senses and imagination argued against reason. Imagine them saying that the ‘universal idea’ (like ‘all triangles have three sides’) that reason thought it could see was nothing at all.

• Their argument might be: ‘What can be sensed or imagined cannot be universal; it’s always a specific thing. So, either reason’s judgment is true, and there is nothing that can be sensed (which is obviously false), or, since reason knows that many things are objects of the senses and imagination, then reason’s way of knowing must be worthless, because it thinks of something specific and individual as if it were a universal category.’

“Now, if reason replied to this, it might say:

• ‘When I consider a universal idea, I am actually keeping in mind what is understood by the senses and what is understood by the imagination. But the senses and imagination cannot rise to recognize universality because their way of knowing cannot go beyond physical shapes and individual instances. In deciding how things are known, we should trust the judgment that is more certain and more perfect.’

“In an argument like this, we—as people who have the ability to reason, as well as to imagine and perceive by the senses—would surely agree with reason’s side.

Human Reason and Divine Intelligence

“In the same way, human reason often refuses to believe that divine intelligence (God’s mind) can see the future in any way other than how human reason itself knows things. “This is how human reason often argues:

• ‘If anything does not seem to have a certain and predestined (fixed) occurrence, it cannot be foreknown as a future event.
• ‘Therefore, of such uncertain things, there is no foreknowledge.
• ‘And if we believe that even in this case (of uncertain things) there is foreknowledge, then there will be nothing which does not happen out of necessity (meaning, everything is predetermined).’

“If, therefore, as beings who have a share of reason, we can judge the mind of God, we should realize that it is most fitting for human reason to bow before divine wisdom. This is just as we judged it right for the senses and the imagination to yield to reason.

“Let us, then, if we can, try to raise ourselves up to the heights of that supreme intelligence. There, reason will be able to see what it cannot see by itself. It will be able to see how an event that has no certain occurrence (like a free choice) can be seen by a certain and fixed foreknowledge—a knowledge that is not just an opinion, but the boundless, direct understanding of the highest form of knowing.”

A Poem About Humanity’s Unique Position

She then offered this poem:

How many different shapes of life exist across the world! Sometimes, in a long form, a creature sweeps the dirt And draws unbroken trails, carried on its powerful ribs (like a snake). Sometimes, on wandering wings, it lightly beats the winds And swims in liquid flight through vast stretches of airy space (like a bird). Some creatures press footprints on the earth and step by step Move themselves over fields or under forest trees (like animals that walk).

You see them all in their different shapes, yet each one’s gaze Is directed downward to the ground, dulling their senses. Only the race of humans can lift its head on high, Can stand with body upright and look beyond the ground.

This picture warns us—unless we are like witless, earthbound people— ‘You who raise your eyes to heaven with your face held high, Raise up your thoughts as well. Lest, weighted down to earth, Your mind sinks lower even as your body rises high.’

Section VI: God’s Eternal Present and His Knowledge

“Since, therefore, as we have just shown, every object of knowledge is known not because of its own nature, but because of the nature of those who understand it, let us now examine, as far as we are able, the nature of God’s being. This will help us also learn what His way of knowing is.

“It is the common judgment, then, of all creatures that live by reason that God is eternal. So let us consider the nature of eternity, for this will make clear to us both the nature of God and His manner of knowing.

What is Eternity?

“Eternity, then, is the complete, simultaneous, and perfect possession of everlasting life. This will be clearer if we compare it with creatures that exist in time.

• Whatever lives in time exists in the present and moves from the past to the future.
• There is nothing existing in time that can embrace or hold the whole extent of its life all at once. It is always in the position of not yet possessing tomorrow, while it has already lost yesterday.
• Even in this life you live today, you do not live more fully than you do in that single, fleeting, transitory moment.

“Therefore, whatever experiences the condition of being in time—even if, like Aristotle thought about the world, it never had any beginning and will never have any ending, and its life extends into the infinity of time—it is still not such that it may properly be considered eternal.

• Its life may be infinitely long, but it does not embrace and understand its whole extent simultaneously. It still lacks the future, while already having lost the past.

“So, that which embraces and possesses simultaneously the whole fullness of everlasting life, which lacks nothing of the future and has lost nothing of the past—that is what may properly be called eternal. “Such a being will, by necessity, always be present to itself, controlling itself, and have the infinity of fleeting time present to it all at once.

The World is Perpetual, God is Eternal

“Those philosophers are wrong, therefore, who, when told that Plato believed the world had no beginning in time and would have no end, claim that the created world is co-eternal with the Creator.

• For it is one thing to progress through everlasting life, like the world in Plato’s theory.
• It is another thing entirely to have embraced the whole of everlasting life in one simultaneous present moment. This is clearly a property of the mind of God.

“God should not be considered as older than the created world in terms of the extent of time, but rather older in the property of the immediacy of His nature. The infinite changing of things in time is an attempt by creation to imitate this state of the presence of God’s unchanging life.

• But since time-bound existence cannot truly portray or equal that state, it falls from sameness into change, from the immediacy of God’s presence into the infinite extent of past and future.
• It cannot possess simultaneously the whole fullness of its life. But because its existence (in Plato’s model) never comes to an end, it does seem in some way to copy that which it cannot fully achieve or express. It does this by attaching itself to some sort of presence in this small and fleeting moment. Since this fleeting presence bears a certain resemblance to God’s abiding present, it gives whatever possesses it the appearance of being that which it imitates.

“But since time-bound existence could not remain still (like God’s eternal present), it took up the infinite journey through time. In this way, it became possible for it to continue by moving forward that life whose fullness it could not embrace by remaining still. “And so, if we want to give things their proper names, let us follow Plato and say that God is eternal, while the world is perpetual.

God’s Knowledge is of a Never-Ending Present

“Since, therefore, all judgment understands those things that are subject to it according to its own nature, and since the state of God is always that of eternal presence, His knowledge, too, rises above all change through time and remains in the immediacy of His presence. “It embraces all the infinite parts of the past and future and views them in the immediacy of its knowing as though they are happening in the present.

“If you wish to consider, then, the foreknowledge or ‘prevision’ by which He discovers all things, it will be more correct to think of it not as a kind of foreknowledge of the future, but as the knowledge of a never-ending present. “So, it is better called Providence (which means ‘looking forth’) than Prevision (which means ‘seeing beforehand’). For God’s knowledge is far removed from matters below and looks forth at all things as though from a lofty peak above them.

Divine Sight vs. Human Sight

“Why, then, do you insist that everything scanned by the sight of God becomes necessary? Men see things, but this certainly doesn’t make those things necessary. And your seeing them doesn’t impose any necessity on the things you see happening in your present, does it?” “No,” I agreed.

“And if we can compare the human present and the divine present: just as you see certain things in this, your present time, so God sees all things in His eternal present. “So, this divine foreknowledge does not change the nature and property of things; it simply sees things present to it exactly as they will happen at some time as future events. It makes no confused judgments about things. With one glance of its mind, it distinguishes all that is to come to pass, whether those future events are caused by necessity or not. “Similarly, when you see at the same time a man walking on the earth and the sun rising in the sky—although you see both sights at once—you still distinguish between them. You judge the man’s walking to be willed (a choice) and the sun’s rising to be necessitated (by natural law). “In the same way, the divine gaze looks down on all things without disturbing their nature. To God, they are present things, but under the condition of time, they are future things. “And so it happens that when God knows that something is going to occur and also knows that no necessity is imposed upon it to make it occur, this is not mere opinion, but rather knowledge founded upon truth.

Two Kinds of Necessity

“If you say at this point that what God sees as a future event cannot but happen, and what cannot but happen, happens of necessity—and if you bind me to this word ‘necessity’—I will have to admit that this is a matter of the firmest truth. However, it’s a truth that scarcely anyone except a deep student of divine matters has been able to fully understand.

“I will answer that the same future event is necessary when considered in relation to divine foreknowledge, and yet it seems to be completely free and unrestricted when considered in itself. For there are two kinds of necessity:

1. Simple Necessity: This is an unchangeable fact, like ‘it is necessary that all humans are mortal.’
2. Conditional Necessity: This depends on a condition. For example, ‘if you know someone is walking, it is necessary that he is walking’ (for as long as you know it and he is indeed walking).
   • What a person knows cannot be other than how it is known at that moment.
   • But this conditional necessity does not mean there’s a simple necessity. The walking isn’t necessary by its own nature, but becomes necessary under the condition that it is known to be happening.
   • No absolute necessity forces the man to walk who is walking of his own free will, although it is necessary that he is walking when he takes a step (and is observed or known to be walking).

“In the same way, if Providence sees something as present, it is necessary for it to happen (in God’s view), even though that thing has no necessity in its own nature. God sees those future events which happen because of free will as if they are present events. “So, these things, when considered in relation to God’s sight of them, do happen necessarily as a result of the condition of divine knowledge. But when considered in themselves, they do not lose the absolute freedom of their nature. “All things, therefore, whose future occurrence is known to God do without doubt happen, but some of them are the result of free will. In spite of the fact that they do happen, their actual occurrence does not deprive them of their true nature. Part of that true nature was the possibility of their not occurring, which existed before they happened.

Freedom and Divine Knowledge Coexist

“What does it matter, then, if they are not (simply) necessary, when because of the condition of divine foreknowledge it will turn out exactly as if they were necessary? “The answer is this. It is impossible for the two events I mentioned just now—the rising of the sun and the man walking—not to be happening when they are actually happening. And yet, it was necessary for one of them (the sun rising) to happen before it did happen, but it was not so for the other (the man walking). “And so, those things which are present to God will without doubt happen. But some of them result from the necessity of how things are, and some of them result from the power of those who do them (their free will).

“We are not wrong, therefore, to say that if these things are considered in relation to divine foreknowledge, they are necessary. But if they are considered by themselves, they are free of the bonds of necessity. “This is just like saying that everything the senses perceive is individual if considered in itself, but it becomes a universal concept if considered in relation to reason.

“But,” Philosophy anticipated my next objection, “you will reply, ‘If it lies in my power to change a proposed course of action, I will be able to evade Providence, for I will perhaps have altered things which Providence already foreknows.’”

“My answer will be this,” Philosophy said. “You can indeed alter your plan. But because this is possible, and because Providence—which is always present and true—sees whether you change your plan and how you change it, you cannot escape divine foreknowledge. It’s like how you cannot escape the sight of an eye that is present and watching you, even though you may, of your own free will, turn to a variety of different actions.

Does God’s Knowledge Change When We Change Our Minds?

“Well, then you might ask: ‘Isn’t divine knowledge changed as a result of my changing plans? So that as I change my wishes, God’s knowledge also seems to change?’ “The answer is no.

“Each future thing is anticipated by the gaze of God. This gaze brings your future actions back and recalls them into the presence of His own way of knowing. God’s knowledge doesn’t change, as you might think, shifting between knowing ‘now this’ and ‘now that.’ Instead, with one single, constant glance, He anticipates and embraces all your changes within His own steadiness.

“God receives this present way of knowing and seeing all things not from how future events turn out, but from His own immediate nature (His eternal present). “So, this solves the difficulty you brought up a short time ago: that it seemed wrong if our future actions were said to provide a cause for God’s knowledge. The power of this divine knowledge, which embraces all things in a present understanding, has itself established the way all things will be. It owes nothing to anything that comes after it or is less fundamental than itself.

Freedom, Responsibility, and Hope Remain

“And since this is how things are:

• A human being’s free will remains untouched and secure.
• The law does not impose rewards and punishments unfairly, because the will is free from all (simple) necessity.

“God has foreknowledge and rests like a spectator looking down from on high at all things. And as the ever-present eternity of His vision gives rewards to the good and punishments to the bad, it adapts itself to the future quality of our actions.

“Therefore:

• Hope placed in God is not in vain.
• Prayers made to God are not in vain. If they are the right kind, they cannot help but be effective.

“So, you should:

• Avoid vice (bad actions).
• Cultivate virtue (good actions).
• Lift up your mind to the right kind of hope.
• Offer humble prayers to God on high.

“A great necessity—a strong moral obligation—is laid upon you, if you will be honest with yourself. It is a great necessity to be good, since you live in the sight of a Judge who sees all things.”