Then I said,—What need is there of bringing on the third wave,[7:3] and utterly whelming the subject in doubt and difficulty, if one is not able to refute what was urged at the outset, and to set aside the objections already offered? First, then, taking our start from the home-altar of reverence for all that is divine,—the heritage of the philosophers of the Academy,—we shall piously refrain from speaking about these things as if we had
certain knowledge of them. For it is less presumptuous for one unskilled in music to discourse about it, or for one not versed in military science to give his judgment in matters relating to the conduct of war, than for us to pretend to look through the things that appertain to God and to superior spirits, mere men as we are, like unskilled observers who should undertake to pass sentence on the skill of artists by their own conjectures and surmises. It is not easy, indeed, for a common person to comprehend a physician’s reasons for using the knife later, and not earlier, or for ordering a bath, not yesterday, but to-day; and still less is it easy or safe for a mortal to say of God anything except that he, best knowing the fit time for the curing of wickedness, applies to every evil-doer punishment as the appropriate medicine, and this not of the same intensity, nor at one and the same interval of time, for all. Now that the medical treatment of souls, termed punishment and justice, is the greatest of all arts, Pindar,[8:1] with myriads of others, testifies, calling God, the chief and lord of all, the supremely good artificer, as being the author of justice, to whom it belongs to allot to each of the guilty the time, mode, and measure of his punishment. Moreover, Plato says that Minos, although the son of Zeus, became his disciple in this art, so that it is not possible for one who has not been a learner in it and acquired skill in it, to proceed aright in the administration of
justice, or to pass an intelligent judgment on its administration by another. Even the laws which men make do not always have a justifying reason that is simple and generally manifest; but some of their enactments seem very ridiculous. Thus, in Lacedaemon, the Ephori when they come into office make immediate proclamation that no man shall let the beard on the upper lip grow,[9:1] and that the laws must be so obeyed that they shall never be annoying to the citizens. Thus too, the Romans strike the slaves whom they are going to emancipate with a slender twig.[9:2] They also, when they make their wills, appoint certain persons their heirs, and sell their property to other persons,[9:3] which appears absurd. But the most absurd of all seems that enactment of Solon, that, in case of an insurrection in the
city, he who does not attach himself to either party, or act on either side, shall be branded with civic infamy.[10:1] In fine, one who understood not the purpose of the lawgiver, nor comprehended the reasons for the individual statutes, might enumerate many instances of foolish legislation. What wonder is it then, if, while human affairs are so difficult to be understood, it is not easy to say concerning the gods why they punish some transgressors later, some earlier?
5. These things I say, not as a pretence for getting rid of the subject, but as an apology for the liberty which I crave in discussing it, that my discourse, as if looking to some ultimate harbor or refuge,[10:2] may proceed with the greater assurance to resolve the doubt. But first see how, as Plato says, God, making himself conspicuous as the example of all things good, bestows human virtue, in some sort his own likeness, on those who are able to be followers of God. For nature throughout, being first in a state of chaos, had the beginning of its change, and of its becoming an orderly universe, by means of a resemblance to and a participation in the Divine idea and the Divine virtue. The same
author says that nature kindled sight in us, that the soul by seeing and admiring the heavenly bodies, accustoming itself to behold and admire what is becoming and orderly, might hate unseemly and vagrant passions, and might shun rash and haphazard conduct, as the source of all wickedness and vice. For it has fallen to man’s lot to enjoy from God no greater gift than the capacity of being formed to virtue by the imitation of those things in God that are beautiful and good. Thus also to bad men he appoints punishment with a lingering and leisurely stroke, not because he fears mistake or reason for repentance were he to punish more promptly, but in order to expel from us the brutish and impetuous element that there is in punishment, and to teach us not to fall upon those who have injured us with anger, nor when
“Revenge, outleaping all restraint of reason,”[11:1]
blazes and rages, as if we were bent on appeasing thirst or hunger, but, imitating his clemency and long-suffering, to proceed to chastisement deliberately and cautiously, choosing, as helping us to take the wiser counsel, the time that shall give us the least reason for repentance. As Socrates said, it is not so bad to drink turbid water to excess as for a temper agitated and overwhelmed by anger and rage, before it can be settled and clarified, to satiate itself in the punishment of a kinsman or a neighbor.
For it is not, as Thucydides says, the retribution nearest in time to the injury received, but that which lies the farthest from it, that obeys the law of fitness. As anger, according to Melanthius,[12:1]
“By deeds depraved and dire casts reason out,”