spicuous if they are not made famous by honours. Could you yourself have been induced by any dangers to think of being a colleague with Decoratus, 1 when you saw that he had the mind of an unscrupulous buffoon, and a base informer? We cannot consider men worthy of veneration on account of their high places, when we hold them to be unworthy of those high places. But if you see a man endowed with wisdom, you cannot but consider him worthy of veneration, or at least of the wis- dom with which he is endowed. For such a man has the worth peculiar to virtue, which it transmits directly to those in whom it is found. But since honours from the vulgar crowd cannot create merit, it is plain that they have not the peculiar beauty of this worth. And here is a particular point to be noticed: if men are the more worthless as they are despised by more people, high position makes them all the worse because it cannot make venerable those whom it shews to so many people to be contemptible. And this brings its penalty with it: wicked people bring a like quality into their positions, and stain them with their infection.
"Now I would have you consider the matter thus, that you may recognise that true veneration cannot be won through these shadowy honours. If a man who had filled the office of consul many times in Rome, came by chance into a country of barbarians, would his high position make him venerated by the barbarians? Yet if this were a natural quality in such dignities, they would never lose their effective function in any land, just as fire is never aught but hot in all countries. But since they do not receive this quality of veneration from any force peculiar to themselves, but only from a connexion in the untrustworthy opinions of men, they become as nothing as soon as they are among those who do not consider these dig- nities as such.
"But that is only in the case of foreign peoples. Among the very peoples where they had their beginnings, do these digni- ties last for ever? Consider how great was the power in Rome 1 Decoratus was a minion of Theodoric.
5O Boethius of old of the office of Prefect: now it is an empty name and a heavy burden upon the income of any man of Senator's rank. The prefect then, who was commissioner of the corn-market, was held to be a great man. Now there is no office more de- spised. For, as I said before, that which has no intrinsic beauty, sometimes receives a certain glory, sometimes loses it, ac- cording to the opinion of those who are concerned with it. If then high offices cannot make men venerated, if further- more they grow vile by the infection of bad men, if changes of time can end their glory, and, lastly, if they are held cheaply in the estimation of whole peoples, I ask you, so far from affording true beauty to men, what beauty have they in them- selves which men can desire?
"Though Nero decked himself proudly with purple of Tyre and snow-white gems, none the less that man of rage and luxury lived ever hated of all. Yet would that evil man at times give his dishonoured offices to men who were revered. Who then could count men blessed, who to such a villain owed their high estate?
(The vanity of kingdoms.)
"Can kingdoms and intimacies with kings make people powerful? 'Certainly,' some may answer, 'in so far as their happiness is lasting.' But antiquity and our times too are full of examples of the contrary; examples of men whose happi- ness as kings has been exchanged for disaster. What wonder- ful power, which is found to be powerless even for its own preservation! But if this kingly power is really a source of happiness, surely then, if it fail in any way, it lessens the happiness it brings, and equally causes unhappiness. How- ever widely human empires may extend, there must be still more nations left, over whom each king does not reign. And so, in whatever direction this power ceases to make happy, thereby comes in power lessncss, which makes men unhappy; thus therefore there must be a greater part of unhappiness The Consolation of Philosophy 51 in every king's estate. That tyrant 1 had learnt well the dan- gers of his lot, who likened the fear which goes with kingship to the terror inspired by a sword ever hanging overhead. What then is such a power, which cannot drive away the bite of cares, nor escape the stings of fear?
"Yet these all would willingly live without fear, but they cannot, and yet they boast of their power. Think you a man is powerful when you see that he longs for that which he cannot bring to pass? Do you reckon a man powerful who walks abroad with dignity and attended by servants? A man who strikes fear into his subjects, yet fears them more himself? A man who must be at the mercy of those that serve him, in order that he may seem to have power?
"Need I speak of intimacies with kings when kingship itself is shewn to be full of weakness? Not only when kings' powers fall are their friends laid low, but often even when their powers are intact. Nero compelled his friend and tutor, Seneca,* to choose how he would die. Papinianus, 8 for a long while a powerful courtier, was handed over to the soldiers' swords by the Emperor Antoninus. Yet each of these was willing to surrender all his power. Seneca even tried to give up all his wealth to Nero, and to seek retirement. But the very weight of their wealth and power dragged them down to ruin, and neither could do what he wished.
"What then is that power, whose possessors fear it? In de- siring to possess which, you are not safe, and from which you cannot escape, even though you try to lay it down? What help are friends, made not by virtue but by fortune? The friend gained by good fortune becomes an enemy in ill-fortune.
1 Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse, shewed his flattering courtier Da- mocles, what it was to be a tyrant, by setting him in his own seat at a sumptuous banquet, but hung a sword above him by a hair.
9 Seneca, the philosopher and wise counsellor of Nero, was by him compelled to commit suicide, A.D. 65.
* Papinianus, the greatest lawyer of his time, was put to death by the Emperor Antoninus Caracalla, A.D. 212.
52 Boethius And what plague can more effectually injure than an intimate enemy?
"The man who would true power gain, must needs subdue his own wild thoughts: never must he let his passions triumph and yoke his neck by their foul bonds. For though the earth, as far as India's shore, tremble before the laws you give, though Thule bow to your service on earth's farthest bounds, yet if thou canst not drive away black cares, if thou canst not put to flight complaints, then is no true power thine.
(The vanity of earthly glory, fame.)
"How deceitful is fame often, and how base a thing it is! Justly did the tragic poet cry out, 1 'O Fame, Fame, how many lives of men of naught hast thou puffed up!' For many men have got a great name from the false opinions of the crowd. And what could be baser than such a thing? For those who are falsely praised, must blush to hear their praises. And if they are justly won by merits, what can they add to the pleas- ure of a wise man's conscience? For he measures his happiness not by popular talk, but by the truth of his conscience. If it attracts a man to make his name widely known, he must equal- ly think it a shame if it be not made known. But I have already said that there must be yet more lands into which the renown of a single man can never come; wherefore it follows that the man, whom you think famous, will seem to have no such fame in the next quarter of the earth.
"Popular favour seems to me to be unworthy even of men- tion under this head, for it comes not by any judgment, and is never constant.
(The vanity of noble birth.)
"Again, who can but see how empty a name, and how futile, is noble birth? For if its glory is due to renown, it belongs not The Consolation of Philosophy 53 to the man. For the glory of noble birth seems to be praise for the merits of a man's forefathers. But if praise creates the renown, it is the renowned who are praised. Wherefore, if you have no renown of your own, that of others cannot glorify you. But if there is any good in noble birth, I conceive it to be this, and this alone, that the highborn seem to be bound in honour not to show any degeneracy from their fathers' virtue.
"From like beginning rise all men on earth, for there is one Father of all things; one is the guide of everything. Tis He who gave the sun his rays, and horns unto the moon. 'Tis He who set mankind on earth, and in the heavens the stars. He put within our bodies spirits which were born in heaven. And thus a highborn race has He set forth in man. Why do ye men rail on your forefathers? If ye look to your beginning and your author, which is God, is any man degenerate or base but he who by his own vices cherishes base things and leaves that beginning which was his?
(The vanity of the lusts oj the flesh.)
"And now what am I to say of the pleasures of the body? The desires of the flesh are full of cares, their fulfilment is full of remorse. What terrible diseases, what unbearable griefs, truly the fruits of sin, do they bring upon the bodies of those who enjoy them! I know not what pleasure their impulse affords, but any who cares to recall his indulgences of his pas- sions, will know that the results of such pleasures are indeed gloomy. If any can shew that those results are blest with hap* pincss, then may the beasts of the field be justly called blessed, for all their aims are urged toward the satisfying of theit bodies' wants. The pleasures of wife and children may be most honourable; but nature makes it all too plain that some have found torment in their children. How bitter is any such kind of suffering, I need not tell you now, for you have never known it, nor have any such anxiety now. Yet in this matter 54 Boethius I would hold with my philosopher Euripides, 1 that he who has no children is happy in his misfortune.
"All pleasures have this way: those who enjoy them they drive on with stings. Pleasure, like the winged bee, scatters its honey sweet, then flies away, and with a clinging sting it strikes the hearts it touches.
(All these vanities are actually harmful.)
"There is then no doubt that these roads to happiness are no roads, and they cannot lead any man to any end whither they profess to take him. I would shew you shortly with what great evils they are bound up. Would you heap up money? You will need to tear it from its owner. Would you seem brilliant by the glory of great honours? You must kneel before their dispenser, and in your desire to surpass other men in honour, you must debase yourself by setting aside all pride. Do you long for power? You will be subject to the wiles of all over whom you have power, you will be at the mercy of many dangers. You seek fame? You will be drawn to and fro among rough paths, and lose all freedom from care. Would you spend a life of pleasure? Who would not despise and cast off such servitude to so vile and brittle a thing as your body? How petty are all the aims of those who put before themselves the pleasures of the body, how uncertain is the possession of such? In bodily size will you ever surpass the elephant? In strength will you ever lead the bull, or in speed the tiger? Look upon the expanse of heaven, the strength with which it stands, the rapidity with which it moves, and cease for a while to wonder at base things. This heaven is not more wonderful for those things than for the design which guides it. How sweeping is the brightness of outward form, how swift its movement, yet more fleeting than the passing of the flowers of spring. But if, as Aristotle says, many could use the eyes of lynxes to see through that which meets the eye, then if they saw into the 1 Referring to lines in the Andromache (419-420), where Euripides says: 'The man who complains that he has no children suffers less than he who has them, and is blest in his misfortune."
The Consolation of Philosophy 55 organs within, would not that body, though it had the most fair outside of Alcibiades, 1 seem most vile within? Wherefore it is not your own nature, but the weakness of the eyes of them that see you, which makes you seem beautiful. But con- sider how in excess you desire the pleasures of the body, when you know that howsoever you admire it, it can be reduced to nothing by a three-days' fever. To put all these points then in a word: these things cannot grant the good which they promise; they are not made perfect by the union of all good things in them; they do not lead to happiness as a path thither; they do not make men blessed. 2 "Ah! how wretched are they whom ignorance leads astray by her crooked path! Ye seek not gold upon green trees, nor gather precious stones from vines, nor set your nets on moun- tain tops to catch the fishes for your feast, nor hunt the Um- brian sea in search of goats. Man knows the depths of the sea themselves, hidden though they be beneath its waves; he knows which water best yields him pearls, and which the scarlet dye. But in their blindness men are content, and know not where lies hid the good which they desire. They sink in earthly things, and there they seek that which has soared above the star-lit heavens. What can I call down upon them worthy of their stubborn folly? They go about in search of wealth and honours; and only when they have by labours vast stored up deception for themselves, do they at last know what is their true good.
"So far," she continued, "we have been content to set forth the form of false happiness. If you clearly understand that, my next duty is to shew what is true happiness."
"I do see," said I, "that wealth cannot satisfy, that power comes not to kingdoms, nor veneration to high offices; that true renown cannot accompany ambition, nor true enjoyment wait upon the pleasures of the body."
1 Alcibiades was the most handsome and brilliantly fascinating of all the public men of Athens in her most brilliant period.
8 Compare Philosophy's first words about the highest good, p. 43.
5 6 Boethius "Have you grasped the reasons why it is so?" she asked. "I seem to look at them as through a narrow chink, but I would learn more clearly from you."
(Philosophy begins to examine true happiness.)
"The reason is to hand," said she; "human error takes that which is simple and by nature impossible to divide, tries to divide it, and turns its truth and perfection into falsity and imperfection. Tell me, do you think that anything which lacks nothing, can be without power?"
"Of course not."
"You are right; for if anything has any weakness in any part, it must lack the help of something else."
"That is so," I said.
"Then perfect satisfaction and power have the same nature?"
"Yes, it seems so."
"And do you think such a thing contemptible, or the oppo- site, worthy of all veneration?"
"There can be no doubt that it is worthy."
"Then let us add veneration to that satisfaction and power, and so consider these three as one."
"Yes, we must add it if we wish to proclaim the truth."
"Do you then think that this whole is dull and of no reputa- tion, or renowned with all glory? For consider it thus: we have granted that it lacks nothing, that it has all power and is worthy of all veneration; it must not therefore lack the glory which it cannot supply for itself, and thereby seem to be in any direction contemptible."
"No," I said, "I must allow that it has glory too."
"Therefore we must rank this glory equally with the other three."
"Yes, we must."
"Then that which lacks nothing from outside itself, which is all-powerful by its own might, which has renown and venera- tion, rriust surely be allowed to be most happy too?"
The Consolation of Philosophy 57 "I cannot imagine from what quarter unhappiness would creep into such a thing, wherefore we must grant that it is full of happiness if the other qualities remain existent."
"Then it follows further, that though perfect satisfaction, power, glory, veneration, and happiness differ in name, they cannot differ at all in essence?"
"They cannot."
"This then," said she, "is a simple, single thing by nature, only divided by the mistakes of base humanity; and while men try to gain a part of that which has no parts, they fail both to obtain a fraction, which cannot exist, and the whole too after which they do not strive."
"Tell me how they fail thus," I said.
"One seeks riches by fleeing from poverty, and takes no thought of power," she answered, "and so he prefers to be base and unknown, and even deprives himself of natural pleas- ures lest he should part with the riches which he has gathered. Thus not even that satisfaction reaches the man who loses all power, who is stabbed by sorrow, lowered by his meanness, hidden by his lack of fame. Another seeks power only: he scak ters his wealth, he despises pleasures and honours which have no power, and sets no value upon glory. You see how many things such an one lacks. Sometimes he goes without neces- saries even, sometimes he feels the bite and torture of care; and as he cannot rid himself of these, he loses the power too which he sought above all things. The same argument may be applied to offices, glory, and pleasure. For since each one of these is the same as each other, any man who seeks one with * out the others, gains not even that one which he desires."
"What then? "I asked.
"If any man desires to obtain all together, he will be seek- ing the sum of happiness. But will he ever find that in these things which we have shewn cannot supply what they promise?"
"No."
"Then happiness is not to be sought for among these things 58 Boethius which are separately believed to supply each thing so sought" "Nothing could be more plainly true," I said.
"Then you have before you the form of false happiness, and its causes; now turn your attention in the opposite direction, and you will quickly see the true happiness which I have promised to shew you."
"But surely this is clear even to the blindest, and you shewed it before when you were trying to make clear the causes of false happiness. For if I mistake not, true and perfect hap- piness is that which makes a man truly satisfied, powerful, venerated, renowned, and happy. And (for I would have you see that I have looked deeply into the matter) I realize with- out doubt that that which can truly yield any one of these, since they are all one, is perfect happiness."
"Ah! my son," said she, "I do see that you are blessed in this opinion, but I would have you add one thing."
"What is that? "I asked.
"Do you think that there is anything among mortals, and in our perishable lives, which could yield such a state?"
"I do not think that there is, and I think that you have shewn this beyond the need of further proof."
"These then seem to yield to mortals certain appearances of the true good, or some such imperfections; but they cannot give true and perfect good."
"No."
"Since, then, you have seen what is true happiness, and what are the false imitations thereof, it now remains that you should learn whence this true happiness may be sought."
"For that," said I, "I have been impatiently waiting."
"But divine help must be sought in small things as well as great (as my pupil Plato says in his Timseus *); so what, think you, must we do to deserve to find the place of that highest good?"
1 Plato, Timccus, 27 C. (ch. v.) "All those who have even the least share of moderation, on undertaking any enterprise, small or great, always call upon God at the beginning."
The Consolation of Philosophy 59 "'Call," I said, "upon the Father of all, for if we do not do so, no undertaking would be rightly or duly begun." "You are right," said she; and thus she cried aloud *: (Philosophy invokes God's guidance.)
"Thou who dost rule the universe with everlasting law, founder of earth and heaven alike, who hast bidden time stand forth from our Eternity, for ever firm Thyself, yet giving movement unto all. No causes were without Thee which could thence impel Thee to create this mass of changing matter, but within Thyself exists the very idea of perfect good, which grudges naught, for of what can it have envy? Thou makest all things follow that high pattern. In perfect beauty Thou movest in Thy mind a world of beauty, making all in a like image, and bidding the perfect whole to complete its perfect functions. All the first principles of nature Thou dost bind together by perfect orders as of numbers, so that they may be balanced each with its opposite: cold with heat, and dry with moist together; thus fire may not fly upward too swiftly be- cause too purely, nor may the weight of the solid earth drag it down and overwhelm it. Thou dost make the soul as a third between mind and material bodies: to these the soul gives life and movement, for Thou dost spread it abroad among the members of the universe, now working in accord. Thus is the soul divided as it takes its course, making two circles, as though a binding thread around the world. Thereafter it returns unto itself and passes around the lower earthly mind; and in like manner it gives motion to the heavens to turn their course. Thou it is who dost carry forward with like inspiration these souls and lower lives. Thou dost fill these weak vessels with lofty souls, and send them abroad throughout the heavens and earth, and by Thy kindly law dost turn them again to Thyself and bring them to seek, as fire doth, to rise to Thee again.
1 This hymn is replete with the highest development of Plato's theory of ideas, as expressed in the Timceus, and his theory of the ideal good being the moving spirit of the material world. Compare also the specula- tive portion of Virgil, Mneid, vi.
60 Boethius "Grant them, O Father, that this mind of ours may rise to Thy throne of majesty; grant us to reach that fount of good. Grant that we may so find light that we may set on Thee un- blinded eyes; cast Thou therefrom the heavy clouds of this material world. Shine forth upon us in Thine own true glory. Thou art the bright and peaceful rest of all Thy children that worship Thee. To see Thee clearly is the limit of our aim. Thou art our beginning, our progress, our guide, our way, our end.
(Philosophy discourses on the union of the highest good with God.)
"Since then you have seen the form both of the imperfect and the perfect good, I think I should now shew you where lies this perfection of happiness. In this I think our first inquiry must be whether any good of this kind can exist in the very nature of a subject; for we must not let any vain form of thought make us miss the truth of this matter. But there can be no denial of its existence, that it is as the very source of all good. For if anything is said to be imperfect, it is held to be so by some loss of its perfection. Wherefore if in any kind of thing a particular seems imperfect, there must also be a perfect specimen in the same kind. For if you take away the perfec- tion, it is impossible even to imagine whence could come the so-called imperfect specimen. For nature does not start from degenerate or imperfect specimens, but starting from the per- fect and ideal, it degenerates to these lower and weaker forms. If then, as we have shewn above, there is an uncertain and imperfect happiness to be found in the good, then there must doubtless be also a sure and perfect happiness therein." 1 "Yes," said I, "that is quite surely proved to be true." "Now consider," she continued, "where it lies. The uni- versally accepted notion of men proves that God, the fountain- head of all things, is good. For nothing can be thought of better than God, and surely He, than whom there is nothing better, must without doubt be good. Now reason shews us that God 1 Tbis reasoning hangs upon Plato's theory of ideas, and so is the opposite of the theory of evolution.
The Consolation of Philosophy 61 is so good, that we are convinced that in Him lies also the perfect good. For if it is not so, He cannot be the fountain- head; for there must then be something more excellent, pos- sessing that perfect good, which appears to be of older origin than God: for it has been proved that all perfections are of earlier origin than the imperfect specimens of the same: where- fore, unless we are to prolong the series to infinity, we must allow that the highest Deity must be full of the highest, the perfect good. But as we have laid down that true happiness is perfect good, it must be that true happiness is situated in His Divinity."
"Yes, I accept that; it cannot be in any way contradicted."
"But," she said, "I beg you, be sure that you accept with a sure conscience and determination this fact, that we have said that the highest Deity is filled with the highest good."
"How should I think of it?" I asked.
"You must not think of God, the Father of all, whom we hold to be filled with the highest good, as having received this good into Himself from without, nor that He has it by nature in such a manner that you might consider Him, its possessor, and the happiness possessed, as having different essential existence. For if you think that good has been received from without, that which gave it must be more excellent than that which received it; but we have most rightly stated that He is the most excellent of all things. And if you think that it is in Him by His nature, but different in kind, then, while we speak of God as the fountain-head of all things, who could imagine by whom these different kinds can have been united? Lastly, that which is different from anything cannot be the thing from which it differs. So anything which is by its nature different from the highest good, cannot be the highest good. And this we must not think of God, than whom there is nothing more excellent, as we have agreed. Nothing in this world can have a nature which is better than its origin, wherefore I would conclude that that which is the origin of all things, according to the truest reasoning, is by its essence the highest good."
"Most truly," I said.
62 Boethius "You agree that the highest good is happiness?"
"Yes."
"Then you must allow that God is absolute happiness?"
"I cannot deny what you put forward before, and I see that this follows necessarily from those propositions."
"Look then," she said, "whether it is proved more strongly by this too: there cannot be two highest goods which are different. For where two good things are different, the one cannot be the other; wherefore neither can be the perfect good, while each is lacking to the other. And that which is not perfect cannot be the highest, plainly. Therefore if two things are highest good, they cannot be different. Further, we have proved to ourselves that both happiness and God are each the highest good. Therefore the highest Deity must be identical with the highest happiness."
"No conclusion," I said, "could be truer in fact, or more surely proved by reason, or more worthy of our God."
"Besides this let me give you corollary, as geometricians do, when they wish to add a point drawn from the propositions they have proved. Since men become happy by acquiring hap- piness, and happiness is identical with divinity, it is plain that they become happy by acquiring divinity. But just as men become just by acquiring the quality of justice, and wise by wisdom, so by the same reasoning, by acquiring divinity they become divine. Every happy man then is divine. But while nothing prevents as many men as possible from being divine, God is so by His nature, men become so by participation."
"This corollary," I said, "or whatever you call it, is indeed beautiful and very precious."
"Yes, but nothing can be more beautiful than this too which reason would have us add to what we have agreed upon."
"What is that? "I asked.
"Happiness seems to include many things: do all these join it together as into a whole which is happiness, as though each thing were a different part thereof, or is any one of them a good which fulfils the essence of happiness, and do the others merely bear relations to this one?"
The Consolation of Philosophy 63 "I would have you make this plain by the enunciation of these particulars."
"Do we not," she asked, "hold that happiness is a good thing?"
"Yes," I answered, "the highest good."
"But you may apply this quality of happiness to them all. For the perfect satisfaction is the same, and the highest power, and veneration, and renown, and pleasure; these are all held to be happiness."
"What then? "I asked.
"Are all these things, satisfaction, power, and the others, as it were, members of the body, happiness, or do they all bear their relation to the good, as members to a head?"
"I understand what you propose to examine, but I am wait- ing eagerly to hear what you will lay down."
"I would have you take the following explanation," she said. "If these were all members of the one body, happiness, they would differ individually. For this is the nature of particulars, to make up one body of different parts. But all these have been shewn to be one and the same. Therefore they are not as mem- bers; and further, this happiness will then appear to be joined together into a whole body out of one member, which is impossible."
"That is quite certain," said I, "but I would hear what is to come."
"It is plain that the others have some relation to the good. It is for that reason, namely because it is held to be good, that this satisfaction is sought, and power likewise, and the others too; we may suppose the same of veneration, renown, and pleasure. The good then is the cause of the desire for all of these, and their consummation also. Such a thing as has in itself no real or even pretended good, cannot ever be sought. On the other hand, such things as are not by nature good, but seem to be so, are sought as though they were truly good. Wherefore we may justly believe that their good quality is the cause of the desire for them, the very hinge on which they turn, and their consummation. The really important object 64 Boethius of a desire, is that for the sake of which anything is sought, as a means. For instance, if a man wishes to ride for the sake of his health, he does not so much desire the motion of riding, as the effect, namely health. As, therefore, each of these things is desired for the sake of the good, the absolute good is the aim, rather than themselves. But we have agreed that the other things are desired for the sake of happiness, wherefore in this case too, it is happiness alone which is the object of the desire. Wherefore it is plain that the essence of the good and of hap- piness is one and the same."
"I cannot see how any one can think otherwise."
"But we have shewn that God and true happiness are one and the same."
"Yes."
"Therefore," said she, "we may safely conclude that the essence of God also lies in the absolute good and nowhere else.
"Come hither all who are the prey of passions, bound by their ruthless chains; those deceiving passions which blunt the minds of men. Here shall you find rest from your labours; here a haven lying in tranquil peace; this shall be a resting-place open to receive within itself all the miserable on earth. Not all the wealth of Tagus's golden sands, nor Hermus's gleaming strand, 1 nor Indus, nigh earth's hottest zone, mingling its emeralds and pearls, can bring light to the eyes of any soul, but rather plunge the soul more blindly in their shade. In her deepest caverns does earth rear all that pleases the eye and excites the mind. The glory by which the heavens move and have their being, has nought to do with the darknesses which bring ruin to the soul. Whosoever can look on this true light will scarce allow the sun's rays to be clear."
"I cannot but agree with that," I said, "for it all stands woven together by the strongest proofs."
1 The modern Sarabat, in Asia Minor, formerly auriferous.
The Consolation of Philosophy 65 Then she said*, "At what would you value this, namely if you could find out what is the absolute good?"
"I would reckon it," I said, "at an infinite value, if I could find out God too, who is the good."
"And that too I will make plain by most true reasoning, if you will allow to stand the conclusions we have just now arrived at."
"They shall stand good."
(Philosophy discourses upon the unity which is the highest good.} "Have I not shewn," she asked, "that those things which most men seek are for this reason not perfect goods, because they differ between themselves; they are lacking to one an- other, and so cannot afford full, absolute good? But when they are gathered together, as it were, into one form and one opera- tion, so that complete satisfaction, power, veneration, renown, and pleasure are all the same, then they become the true good. Unless they are all one and the same, they have no claim to be reckoned among the true objects of men's desires."
"That has been proved beyond all doubt."
"Then such things as differ among themselves are not goods, but they become so when they begin to be a single unity. Is it not then the case these become goods by the attainment of unity?"
"Yes," I said, "it seems so."
"But I think you allow that every good is good by partici- pation in good?"
"Yes, I do."