Chapter I — The Moral Confusion

The Text

A new modern English rendering, made from the Latin with AI assistance — a reading aid, not a scholarly edition.

Chapter I

After Philosophy had sung this song softly and sweetly, keeping the dignity of her face and the gravity of her speech, I — not yet wholly forgetful of the grief planted within me — broke off her intention as she was preparing to say something further, and said: "You who go before us as the herald of the true light, all that your words have poured out until now has shown itself both divine in its own contemplation and unconquerable by your reasonings; and though I had lately forgotten these things because of the pain of my injury, they were not entirely unknown to me before. But this very thing is the greatest cause of my grief: that, while a good ruler of all things exists, evils can exist at all, and can even pass by unpunished. How much wonder this alone deserves, you surely consider.

"But to this another, still greater, is joined. For while wickedness commands and flourishes, virtue not only lacks its rewards but is even trampled underfoot by criminals and pays the penalty that crime should pay. That such things happen in the kingdom of a God who knows all, can do all, but wills only the good — no one can wonder enough at it, nor complain enough."

Then she said: "It would indeed be a thing of infinite astonishment, and more horrible than any monster, if, as you suppose, in the perfectly ordered household of so great a master the cheap vessels were cared for and the precious ones left to grow filthy. But it is not so. For if the conclusions reached a little while ago stand unshaken, you will learn — on the authority of the very one of whose kingdom we now speak — that the good are always powerful and the bad always abject and feeble; that vices are never without punishment nor virtues without reward; that good fortune always comes to the good and misfortune to the bad; and many things of this kind, which will quiet your complaints and strengthen you with firm solidity. And since, by my showing a little while ago, you have seen the form of true blessedness, and have recognized where it is set, I will now run through all that I think it necessary to put first, and then show you the road that will carry you home. I will even fasten wings to your mind, by which it can lift itself on high, so that, your trouble driven off, you may return safely to your homeland under my guidance, by my path, and in my own vehicles."

Song IThe Soul's Flight

For I have swift wings that can climb the heights of heaven. When the quick mind has put them on, it looks down, scorning the earth; it passes beyond the sphere of the boundless air and sees the clouds left behind, and, glowing with the swift motion of the upper sky, it crosses the very peak of fire, until it rises to the star-bearing halls and joins its course with Phoebus, or accompanies the path of the cold old planet, a soldier of the gleaming star; or wherever the sparkling night is painted, it runs again along the circle of a star.

And when it has had enough of this, it leaves the outermost pole behind and treads upon the back of the swift sky, sharing now in the awe-inspiring light.

Here the Lord holds the scepter of kings and governs the reins of the world, and, himself unmoving, steers the swift chariot, the gleaming judge of all things.

If the road should carry you back here, the road you now seek, having forgotten it, you will say: "This I remember — this is my homeland; from here I sprang, here I will halt my step."

But should it please you to look back on the earthly night you have left, the tyrants whom wretched peoples dread as savage you will see for what they are — exiles.

Chapter I

Softly and sweetly Philosophy sang these verses to the end without losing aught of the dignity of her expression or the seriousness of her tones; then, forasmuch as I was as yet unable to forget my deeply-seated sorrow, just as she was about to say something further, I broke in and cried: 'O thou guide into the way of true light, all that thy voice hath uttered from the beginning even unto now has manifestly seemed to me at once divine contemplated in itself, and by the force of thy arguments placed beyond the possibility of overthrow. Moreover, these truths have not been altogether unfamiliar to me heretofore, though because of indignation at my wrongs they have for a time been forgotten. But, lo! herein is the very chiefest cause of my grief—that, while there exists a good ruler of the universe, it is possible that evil should be at all, still more that it should go unpunished. Surely thou must see how deservedly this of itself provokes astonishment. But a yet greater marvel follows: While wickedness reigns and flourishes, virtue not only lacks its reward, but is even thrust down and trampled under the feet of the wicked, and suffers punishment in the place of crime. That this should happen under the rule of a God who knows all things and can do all things, but wills only the good, cannot be sufficiently wondered at nor sufficiently lamented.'

Then said she: 'It would indeed be infinitely astounding, and of all monstrous things most horrible, if, as thou esteemest, in the well-ordered home of so great a householder, the base vessels should be held in honour, the precious left to neglect. But it is not so. For if we hold unshaken those conclusions which we lately reached, thou shall learn that, by the will of Him of whose realm we are speaking, the good are always strong, the bad always weak and impotent; that vices never go unpunished, nor virtues unrewarded; that good fortune ever befalls the good, and ill fortune the bad, and much more of the sort, which shall hush thy murmurings, and stablish thee in the strong assurance of conviction. And since by my late instructions thou hast seen the form of happiness, hast learnt, too, the seat where it is to be found, all due preliminaries being discharged, I will now show thee the road which will lead thee home. Wings, also, will I fasten to thy mind wherewith thou mayst soar aloft, that so, all disturbing doubts removed, thou mayst return safe to thy country, under my guidance, in the path I will show thee, and by the means which I furnish.'

Song IThe Soul's Flight.

Wings are mine; above the pole Far aloft I soar. Clothed with these, my nimble soul Scorns earth's hated shore, Cleaves the skies upon the wind, Sees the clouds left far behind.

Soon the glowing point she nears, Where the heavens rotate, Follows through the starry spheres Phœbus' course, or straight Takes for comrade 'mid the stars Saturn cold or glittering Mars;

Thus each circling orb explores Through Night's stole that peers; Then, when all are numbered, soars Far beyond the spheres, Mounting heaven's supremest height To the very Fount of light.

There the Sovereign of the world His calm sway maintains; As the globe is onward whirled Guides the chariot reins, And in splendour glittering Reigns the universal King.

Hither if thy wandering feet Find at last a way, Here thy long-lost home thou'lt greet: 'Dear lost land,' thou'lt say, 'Though from thee I've wandered wide, Hence I came, here will abide.'

Yet if ever thou art fain Visitant to be Of earth's gloomy night again, Surely thou wilt see Tyrants whom the nations fear Dwell in hapless exile here.