Boethius, The Consolation 1.17

. . . “Since you were always present to guide me in my words and my deeds, I think you remember what happened at Verona. When King Theodoric, desiring the common ruin of the Senate, was for extending to the whole order the charge of treason laid against Albinus, you remember how I labored to defend the innocence of the order without any care for my own danger? You know that I declare this truthfully and with no boasting praise of self. For the secret value of a conscience, that approves its own action, is lessened somewhat each time that it receives the reward of fame by displaying its deeds.

“But you see what end has fallen upon my innocence. In the place of the rewards of honest virtue, I am suffering the punishments of an ill deed that was not mine. And did ever any direct confession of a crime find its judges so well agreed upon exercising harshness, that neither the liability of the human heart to err, nor the changeableness of the fortune of all mankind, could yield one dissenting voice?

“If it had been said that I had wished to burn down temples, to murder with sacrilegious sword their priests, that I had planned the massacre of all good citizens, even so I should have been present to plead guilty or to be convicted, before the sentence was executed. But here am I, nearly five hundred miles away, without the opportunity of defending myself, condemned to death and the confiscation of my property because of my too great zeal for the Senate.

“Ah! Well have they deserved that none should ever be liable to be convicted on such a charge! Even those who laid information have seen the honor of this accusation, for, that they might blacken it with some criminal ingredient, they had need to lie, saying that I had violated my conscience by using unholy means to obtain offices corruptly.” . . .

—from Book 1, Prose 4

“No good deed goes unpunished,” they would plaintively tell me, and I would wonder if this was intended to encourage me or discourage me in being good. Where is there any good in the deed, if it will not, in turn, yield good things? Am I misunderstanding the whole nature of true rewards and true punishments?

The irony of his situation is not lost on Boethius, as it not lost on anyone who has been in the same sort of place. Boethius intended to do right by the Senate, and to save its members from harm. Instead, the very people he was trying to protect have turned on him, and seeing the way the wind was blowing, are now more than happy to accuse him of a crime, however much they have to lie to make their own case, or deny him the right to defend himself.

I recall how my third grade teacher was convinced that a girl in the class has stolen some art supplies from the classroom during the lunch break, and the girl’s friend insisted that couldn’t be true, because they had been together the whole time. Now both girls had their parents called, one for being a thief, the other for being a liar.

A decent and honest fellow I knew very well later told me he had seen the art supplies in another child’s bag, but he said he was too afraid to say anything. Unpleasant experiences like that have a way of sticking with you. I can still vividly picture those two girls sitting outside the principal’s office, both crying.

We may need to face unpleasant consequences for following what we think is right, but is that a reason to stand down? Should we only speak out or act up when the results are going to be convenient?

Boethius is angered by the results, yet he still has a sense in this passage that right and wrong are not merely measured by their utility. He knows, for example, that following his conscience, and the private knowledge of his own virtue, are themselves their own reward, regardless of whether he is praised. After all, he says, he did the right thing for its own sake, not to show off, or because of any recognition.

Is it that much of a stretch to also say that following his conscience, and the private knowledge of his own virtue, are themselves their own reward, regardless of whether he is condemned?

If virtue is something good, it will surely bring us benefit. The question, however, is what sort of benefit that will be, and what measure of reward the good man should seek. Are fame, riches, and even the life of the body things worth caring about for their own sake, or are there perhaps some greater standards to live up to?

Help me to understand the whole nature of true rewards and true punishments in this life, so that I can learn to be happy with my own actions. 

Written in 6/2015