Then said I, "I confess and perceive that thou affirmest not without
cause that the vicious, though they keep the outward shape of men, are
in their inward state of mind changed into brute beasts. But I would
have had them whose cruel and wicked heart rageth to the harm of the
good, restrained from executing their malice." "They are restrained,"
quoth she, "as shall be proved in convenient place. But yet if this
liberty which they seem to have be taken away, their punishment also is
in great part released. For (which perhaps to some may seem incredible)
evil men must necessarily be more unhappy when they have brought to pass
their purposes than if they could not obtain what they desire. For if it
be a miserable thing to desire that which is evil, it is more miserable
to be able to perform it, without which the miserable will could not
have any effect. Wherefore since everyone of these hath their peculiar
misery, they must of force be oppressed with a threefold wretchedness,
whom thou seest desire, be able, and perform wickedness." "I grant it,"
quoth I, "but earnestly wish that they may soon be delivered from this
misery, having lost the power to perform their malice." "They will lose
it," quoth she, "sooner than perhaps either thou wouldst, or they
themselves suppose. For in the short compass of this life there is
nothing so late that any one, least of all an immortal soul, should
think it long in coming; so that the great hope and highest attempts of
the wicked are many times made frustrate with a sudden and unexpected
end, which in truth setteth some end to their misery.
For if wickedness make men miserable, the longer one is wicked, the more
miserable he must needs be; and I should judge them the most unhappy men
that may be, if death at least did not end their malice. For if we have
concluded truly of the misery of wickedness, it is manifest that the
wretchedness which is everlasting must of force be infinite." "A strange
illation," quoth I, "and hard to be granted; but I see that those things
which were granted before agree very well with these." "Thou thinkest
aright," quoth she, "but he that findeth difficulty to yield to the
conclusion must either show that something which is presupposed is
false, or that the combination of the propositions makes not a necessary
conclusion; otherwise, granting that which went before, he hath no
reason to doubt of the inference. For this also which I will conclude
now will seem no less strange, and yet followeth as necessarily out of
those things which are already assumed." "What?" quoth I. "That wicked
men," quoth she, "are more happy being punished than if they escaped the
hands of justice. Neither do I now go about to show that which may come
into every man's mind, that evil customs are corrected by chastisement,
and are reduced to virtue by the terror of punishment, and that others
may take example to avoid evil, but in another manner also I think
vicious men that go unpunished to be more miserable, although we take no
account of correction and pay no regard to example." "And what other
manner shall this be," quoth I, "besides these?" "Have we not granted,"
quoth she, "that the good are happy, and the evil miserable?" "We have,"
quoth I. "If then," quoth she, "something that is good be added to one's
misery, is he not happier than another whose misery is desolate and
solitary, without any participation of goodness?" "So it seemeth," quoth
I. "What if there be some other evil annexed to this miserable man who
is deprived of all goodness, besides those which make him miserable, is
he not to be accounted much more unhappy than he whose misery is
lightened by partaking of goodness?" "Why not?" quoth I. "But it is
manifest that it is just that the wicked be punished, and unjust that
they should go unpunished." "Who can deny that?" "But neither will any
man deny this," quoth she, "that whatsoever is just, is good, and
contrariwise, that whatsoever is unjust, is evil." "Certainly," I
answered. "Then the wicked have some good annexed when they are
punished, to wit, the punishment itself, which by reason of justice is
good, and when they are not punished, they have a further evil, the very
impunity which thou hast deservedly granted to be an evil because of its
injustice." "I cannot deny it." "Wherefore the vicious are far more
unhappy by escaping punishment unjustly, than by being justly punished."
"This followeth," quoth I, "out of that which hath been concluded
before.
But I pray thee, leavest thou no punishments for the souls after the
death of the body?" "And those great too," quoth she. "Some of which I
think to be executed as sharp punishments, and others as merciful
purgations.[152] But I purpose not now to treat of those. But we have
hitherto laboured that thou shouldest perceive the power of the wicked,
which to thee seemed intolerable, to be none at all, and that thou
shouldest see, that those whom thou complainedst went unpunished, do
never escape without punishment for their wickedness. And that thou
shouldest learn that the licence which thou wishedst might soon end, is
not long, and yet the longer the more miserable, and most unhappy if it
were everlasting. Besides, that the wicked are more wretched being
permitted to escape with unjust impunity, than being punished with just
severity. Out of which it followeth that they are then more grievously
punished, when they are thought to go scot-free."
"When I consider thy reasons," quoth I, "I think nothing can be said
more truly. But if I return to the judgments of men, who is there that
will think them worthy to be believed or so much as heard?" "It is
true," quoth she, "for they cannot lift up their eyes accustomed to
darkness, to behold the light of manifest truth, and they are like those
birds whose sight is quickened by the night, and dimmed by the day. For
while they look upon, not the order of things, but their own affections,
they think that licence and impunity to sin is happy. But see what the
eternal law establisheth. If thou apply thy mind to the better, thou
needest no judge to reward thee: thou hast joined thyself to the more
excellent things. If thou declinest to that which is worse, never expect
any other to punish thee: thou hast put thyself in a miserable estate;
as if by turns thou lookest down to the miry ground, and up to heaven,
setting aside all outward causes, by the very law of sight thou seemest
sometime to be in the dirt, and sometime present to the stars. But the
common sort considereth not these things. What then? Shall we join
ourselves to them whom we have proved to be like beasts? What if one
having altogether lost his sight should likewise forget that he ever had
any, and should think that he wanted nothing which belongeth to human
perfection: should we likewise think them blind, that see as well as
they saw before? For they will not grant that neither, which may be
proved by as forcible reasons, that they are more unhappy that do injury
than they which suffer it." "I would," quoth I, "hear these reasons."
"Deniest thou," quoth she, "that every wicked man deserveth punishment?"
"No." "And it is many ways clear that the vicious are miserable?" "Yes,"
quoth I. "Then you do not doubt that those who deserve punishment are
wretched?" "It is true," quoth I. "If then," quoth she, "thou wert to
examine this cause, whom wouldest thou appoint to be punished, him that
did or that suffered wrong?" "I doubt not," quoth I, "but that I would
satisfy him that suffered with the sorrow of him that did it." "The
offerer of the injury then would seem to thee more miserable than the
receiver?" "It followeth," quoth I. "Hence therefore, and for other
causes grounded upon that principle that dishonesty of itself maketh men
miserable, it appeareth that the injury which is offered any man is not
the receiver's but the doer's misery." "But now-a-days," quoth she,
"orators take the contrary course. For they endeavour to draw the judges
to commiseration of them who have suffered any grievous afflictions;
whereas pity is more justly due to the causers thereof, who should be
brought, not by angry, but rather by favourable and compassionate
accusers to judgment, as it were sick men to a physician, that their
diseases and faults might be taken away by punishments; by which means
the defenders' labour would either wholly cease, or if they had rather
do their clients some good, they would change their defence into
accusations. And the wicked themselves, if they could behold virtue
abandoned by them, through some little rift, and perceive that they
might be delivered from the filth of sin by the affliction of
punishments, obtaining virtue in exchange, they would not esteem of
torments, and would refuse the assistance of their defenders, and wholly
resign themselves to their accusers and judges. By which means it cometh
to pass, that in wise men there is no place for hatred. For who but a
very fool would hate the good? And to hate the wicked were against
reason. For as faintness is a disease of the body, so is vice a sickness
of the mind. Wherefore, since we judge those that have corporal
infirmities to be rather worthy of compassion than of hatred, much more
are they to be pitied, and not abhorred, whose minds are oppressed with
wickedness, the greatest malady that may be.
[152] See discussion of this passage in _Boethius, An Essay,_ H. F.
Stewart (1891), pp. 98 ff.