“Why, it is manifest that all the others are relative to the good. For the very reason why independence is sought is that it is judged good, and so power also, because it is believed to be good. The same, too, may be supposed of reverence, of renown, and of pleasant delight. Good, then, is the sum and source of all desirable things. That which has not in itself any good, either in reality or in semblance, can in no wise be desired. Contrariwise, even things which by nature are not good are desired as if they were truly good, if they seem to be so. Whereby it comes to pass that goodness is rightly believed to be the sum and hinge and cause of all things desirable. Now, that for the sake of which anything is desired itself seems to be most wished for. For instance, if anyone wishes to ride for the sake of health, he does not so much wish for the exercise of riding as the benefit of his health. Since, then, all things are sought for the sake of the good, it is not these so much as good itself that is sought by all. But that on account of which all other things are wished for was, we agreed, happiness; wherefore thus also it appears that it is happiness alone which is sought. From all which it is transparently clear that the essence of absolute good and of happiness is one and the same.”
“I cannot see how anyone can dissent from these conclusions.”
“But we have also proved that God and true happiness are one and the same.”
“Yes,” said I.
“Then we can safely conclude, also, that God’s essence is seated in absolute good, and nowhere else.”
Song X
The True Light
Hither come, all ye whose minds
Lust with rosy fetters binds—
Lust to bondage hard compelling
Th’ earthy souls that are his dwelling—
Here shall be your labour’s close;
Here your haven of repose.
Come, to your one refuge press;
Wide it stands to all distress!
Not the glint of yellow gold
Down bright Hermus’ current rolled;
Not the Tagus’ precious sands,
Nor in far-off scorching lands
All the radiant gems that hide
Under Indus’ storied tide—
Emerald green and glistering white—
Can illume our feeble sight;
But they rather leave the mind
In its native darkness blind.
For the fairest beams they shed
In earth’s lowest depths were fed;
But the splendour that supplies
Strength and vigour to the skies,
And the universe controls,
Shunneth dark and ruined souls.
He who once hath seen this light
Will not call the sunbeam bright.
XI
“I quite agree,” said I, “truly all thy reasonings hold admirably together.”
Then said she: “What value wouldst thou put upon the boon shouldst thou come to the knowledge of the absolute good?”
“Oh, an infinite,” said I, “if only I were so blest as to learn to know God also who is the good.”
“Yet this will I make clear to thee on truest grounds of reason, if only our recent conclusions stand fast.”
“They will.”
“Have we not shown that those things which most men desire are not true and perfect good precisely for this cause—that they differ severally one from another, and, seeing that one is wanting to another, they cannot bestow full and absolute good; but that they become the true good when they are gathered, as it were, into one form and agency, so that that which is independence is likewise power, reverence, renown, and pleasant delight, and unless they are all one and the same, they have no claim to be counted among things desirable?”
“Yes; this was clearly proved, and cannot in any wise be doubted.”
“Now, when things are far from being good while they are different, but become good as soon as they are one, is it not true that these become good by acquiring unity?”
“It seems so,” said I.
“But dost not thou allow that all which is good is good by participation in goodness?”
“It is.”
“Then, thou must on similar grounds admit that unity and goodness are the same; for when the effects of things in their natural working differ not, their essence is one and the same.”
“There is no denying it.”
“Now, dost thou know,” said she, “that all which is abides and subsists so long as it continues one, but so soon as it ceases to be one it perishes and falls to pieces?”
“In what way?”
“Why, take animals, for example. When soul and body come together, and continue in one, this is, we say, a living creature; but when this unity is broken by the separation of these two, the creature dies, and is clearly no longer living. The body also, while it remains in one form by the joining together of its members, presents a human appearance; but if the separation and dispersal of the parts break up the body’s unity, it ceases to be what it was. And if we extend our survey to all other things, without doubt it will manifestly appear that each several thing subsists while it is one, but when it ceases to be one perishes.”
“Yes; when I consider further, I see it to be even as thou sayest.”
“Well, is there aught,” said she, “which, in so far as it acts conformably to nature, abandons the wish for life, and desires to come to death and corruption?”
“Looking to living creatures, which have some faults of choice, I find none that, without external compulsion, forego the will to live, and of their own accord hasten to destruction. For every creature diligently pursues the end of self-preservation, and shuns death and destruction! As to herbs and trees, and inanimate things generally, I am altogether in doubt what to think.”
“And yet there is no possibility of question about this either, since thou seest how herbs and trees grow in places suitable for them, where, as far as their nature admits, they cannot quickly wither and die. Some spring up in the plains, others in the mountains; some grow in marshes,
