Boethius Consolatio
Philosophiae
Book 2
1 Then for a
while she held her peace. But when her silence, so discreet, made my thoughts
to cease from straying, she thus began to speak: 2 `If I have thoroughly learned
the causes and the manner of your sickness, your former good fortune has so
affected you that you are being consumed by longing for it. The change of this
alone has overturned your peace of mind through your own imagination. 3 I
understand the varied disguises of that unnatural state. I know how Fortune
is ever most friendly and alluring to those whom she strives to deceive, until
she overwhelms them with grief beyond bearing, by deserting them when least
expected. 4 If you recall her nature, her ways, or her deserts, you will see
that you never had in her, nor have lost with her, aught that was lovely.
Yet, I think, I shall not need great labour to recall this to your memory. 5
For then too, when she was at your side with all her flattery, you were wont to
reproach her in strong and manly terms; and to revile her with the opinions
that you had gathered in worship of me with my favoured ones. 6 But no sudden
change of outward affairs can ever come without some upheaval in the mind. Thus
has it followed that you, like others, have fallen somewhat away from your calm
peace of mind. 7 But it is time now for you to make trial of some gentle and
pleasant draught, which by reaching your inmost parts shall prepare the way for
yet stronger healing draughts. 8 Try therefore the assuring influence of gentle
argument which keeps its straight path only when it holds fast to my
instructions. And with this art of orators let my handmaid, the art of song,
lend her aid in chanting light or weighty harmonies as we desire. 9 `What is
it, mortal man, that has cast you down into grief and mourning? You have seen
something unwonted, it would seem, something strange to you. But if you think
that Fortune has changed towards you, you are wrong. 10 These are ever her
ways: this is her very nature. She has with you preserved her own constancy by
her very change. She was ever changeable at the time when she smiled upon you,
when she was mocking you with the allurements of false good fortune. 11 You
have discovered both the different faces of the blind goddess. To the eyes of
others she is veiled in part: to you she has made herself wholly known. 12 If
you find her welcome, make use of her ways, and so make no complaining. If she
fills you with horror by her treachery, treat her with despite; thrust her away
from you, for she tempts you to your ruin. For though she is the cause of this
great trouble for you, she ought to have been the subject of calmness and
peace. For no man can ever make himself sure that she will never desert him,
and thus has she deserted you. 13 Do you reckon such happiness to be prized,
which is sure to pass away? Is good fortune dear to you, which is with you for
a time and is not sure to stay, and which is sure to bring you unhappiness when
it is gone? 14 But seeing that it cannot be stayed at will, and that when it
flees away it leaves misery behind, what is such a fleeting thing but a sign of
coming misery? 15 Nor should it ever satisfy any man to look only at that
which is placed before his eyes. Prudence takes measure of the results to come
from all things. The very changeableness of good and bad makes Fortune's
threats no more fearful, nor her smiles to be desired. 16 And lastly, when you
have once put your neck beneath the yoke of Fortune, you must with steadfast
heart bear whatever comes to pass within her realm. 17 But if you would dictate
the law by which she whom you have freely chosen to be your mistress must stay
or go, surely you will be acting without justification; and your very
impatience will make more bitter a lot which you cannot change. 18 If you set
your sails before the wind, will you not move forward whither the wind drives
you, not whither your will may choose to go? If you intrust your seed to the
furrow, will you not weigh the rich years and the barren against each other? You
have given yourself over to Fortune's rule, and you must bow yourself to your
mistress's ways. 19 Are you trying to stay the force of her turning wheel? Ah!
dull-witted mortal, if Fortune begin to stay still, she is no longer Fortune.'
Metrum 1
1 `As thus
she turns her wheel of chance with haughty hand,
2 and presses
on like the surge of Euripus's tides,
3 fortune now
tramples fiercely on a fearsome king,
4 and now
deceives no less a conquered man by raising from the ground his humbled face.
5 She hears
no wretch's cry, she heeds no tears,
6 but
wantonly she mocks the sorrow which her cruelty has made.
7 This is her
sport: thus she proves her power;
8 if in the
selfsame hour one man is raised to happiness, and cast down in despair,
9 'tis thus
she shews her might.'
Prosa 2
1 `Now would
I argue with you by these few words which Fortune herself might use: and do you
consider whether her demands are fair. 2 "Why, O man," she might say,
"do you daily accuse me with your complainings? What injustice have I
wrought upon you? Of what good things have I robbed you? 3 Choose your judge whom
you will, and before him strive with me for the right to hold your wealth and
honours. If you can prove that any one of these does truly belong to any mortal
man, readily will I grant that these you seek to regain were yours. 4 When
nature brought you forth from your mother's womb, I received you in my arms
naked and bare of all things; I cherished you with my gifts, and I brought you
up all too kindly with my favouring care, wherefore now you cannot bear with
me, and I surrounded you with glory and all the abundance that was mine to
give. 5 Now it pleases me to withdraw my hand: be thankful, as though you had
lived upon my loans. You have no just cause of complaint, as though you had
really lost what was once your own. 6 Why do you rail against me? I have
wrought no violence towards you. Wealth, honours, and all such are within my
rights. They are my handmaids; they know their mistress; they come with me and
go when I depart. 7 Boldly will I say that if these, of whose loss you
complain, were ever yours, you would never have lost them at all. 8 Am I
alone to be stayed from using my rightful power? The heavens may grant bright
sunlit days, and hide the same beneath the shade of night. The year may deck
the earth's countenance with flowers and fruits, and again wrap it with
chilling clouds. The sea may charm with its smoothed surface, but no less
justly it may soon bristle in storms with rough waves. Is the insatiate discontent
of man to bind me to a constancy which belongs not to my ways? 9 Herein lies my
very strength; this is my unchanging sport. I turn my wheel that spins its circle
fairly; I delight to make the lowest turn to the top, the highest to the
bottom. 10 Come you to the top if you will, but on this condition, that you
think it no unfairness to sink when the rule of my game demands it. 11 Do
you not know my ways? Have you not heard how Croesus, king of Lydia, who filled
even Cyrus with fear but a little earlier, was miserably put upon a pyre of
burning faggots, but was saved by rain sent down from heaven? 12 Have you
forgotten how Paulus shed tears of respect for the miseries of his captive,
King Perses? For what else is the crying and the weeping in tragedies but for
the happiness of kings overturned by the random blow of fortune? 13 Have you
never learnt in your youth the ancient allegory that in the threshold of Jove's
hall there stand two vessels, one full of evil, and one of good? 14 What if you
have received more richly of the good? What if I have not ever withheld myself
from you? What if my changing nature is itself a reason that you should hope
for better things? In any way, let not your spirit eat itself away: you are set
in the sphere that is common to all, let your desire therefore be to live with
your own lot of life, a subject of the kingdom of the world.'
Metrum 2
1 `If Plenty
with o'erflowing horn
2 scatter her
wealth abroad, abundantly,
3 as in the
storm-tossed sea the sand is cast around,
4 or so
beyond all measure as the stars shine forth
5 upon the
studded sky in cloudless nights;
6 though she
never stay her hand,
7 yet will
the race of men
8 still weep
and wail.
9 Though God
accept their prayers freely
10 and give
gold with ungrudging hand,
11 and deck
with honours those who deserve them,
12 yet when
they are gotten, these gifts seem naught.
13 Wild greed
swallows what it has sought,
14 and still
gapes wide for more.
15 What bit
or bridle will hold within its course
16 this
headlong lust,
17 when,
whetted by abundance of rich gifts,
18 the thirst
for possession burns?
19 Never call
we that man rich who is ever trembling in haste
20 and
groaning for that he thinks he lack
(Prose 3)
(. . .) 9
`While Fortune then favoured you, it seems you flaunted her, though she
cherished you as her own darling. You carried off a bounty which she had never
granted to any citizen before. Will you then balance accounts with Fortune? 10
This is the first time that she has looked upon you with a grudging eye. If you
think of your happy and unhappy circumstances both in number and in kind, you
will not be able to say that you have not been fortunate until now. 11 And
if you think that you were not fortunate because these things have passed away
which then seemed to bring happiness, these things too are passing away, which
you now hold to be miserable, wherefore you cannot think that you are wretched
now. 12 Is this your first entrance upon the stage of life? Are you come here
unprepared and a stranger to the scene? Think you that there is any certainty
in the affairs of mankind, when you know that often one swift hour can utterly
destroy a man? 13 For though the chances of life may seldom be depended upon,
yet the last day of a lifetime seems to be the end of Fortune's power, though
it perhaps would stay. 14 What, think you, should we therefore say; that you
desert her by dying, or that she deserts you by leaving you?'
Metrum 3
1 `When o'er
the heaven Phoebus from his rose-red car
2 begins to
shed his light abroad,
3 his flames
oppress the paling stars
4 and blunt
their whitened rays.
5 When the
grove grows bright in spring with roses
6 'neath the
west wind's warming breath,
7 let but the
cloudy gale once wildly blow,
8 and their
beauty is gone, the thorns alone remain.
9 Often the
sea is calmly glistening bright
10 with all
untroubled waves,
11 but as
often does the north wind stir them up,
12 making the
troubling tempest boil.
13 If then
the earth's own covering so seldom constant stays,
14 if its
changes are so great,
15 shalt thou
trust the brittle fortunes of mankind,
16 have faith
in fleeting good?
17 For this
is sure, and this is fixed by everlasting law,
18 that
naught which is brought to birth shall constant here abide.'
Prosa
4 1 Then I answered her,
`Cherisher of all the virtues, you tell me but the truth: I cannot deny my
rapid successes and my prosperity. 2 But it is such remembrances that torment
me more than others. For of all suffering from Fortune, the unhappiest
misfortune is to have known a happy fortune.' 3 `But,' said Philosophy, `you
are paying the him penalty for your mistaken expectations, and with this you
cannot justly charge your life's circumstances. If you are affected by this
empty name of Fortune's gift of happiness, you must listen while I recall how
many and how great are your sources of happiness: 4 and thus, if you have
possessed that which is the most precious among all Fortune's gifts, and if
that is still safe and unharmed in your possession, you will never, while you
keep these better gifts, be able to justly charge Fortune with unkindness. (Recalls
that his fmaily is alive and well) 8 Wherefore, since mortals desire exceedingly to keep a hold
on life, how happy you should be, knew you but your blessings, since you have
still what none doubts to be dearer than life itself? 9 Wherefore now dry your
tears. Fortune's hatred has not yet been so great as to destroy all your
holds upon happiness: the tempest that is fallen upon you is not too great for
you: your anchors hold yet firm, and they should keep ever nigh to you
confidence in the present and hope for future time. 10 `And may they continue to hold
fast,' said I, `that is my prayer: while they are firm, we will reach the end
of our voyage, however things may be. But you see how much my glory has
departed.' 11 And she answered, `We have made some progress, if you are not now
weary entirely of your present lot. But I cannot bear this dallying so softly,
so long as you complain that your happiness lacks aught, so long as you are
full of sorrow and care. 12 Whose happiness is so firmly established that he
has no quarrel from any side with his estate of life? For the condition of our
welfare is a matter fraught with care: either its completeness never appears,
or it never remains. (all are dissatisfied) 15 So none is readily at
peace with the lot his fortune sends him. For in each case there is that which
is unknown to him who has not experienced it, and which brings horror to him
who has experienced it. 16 Consider further, that the feelings of the most
fortunate men are the most easily affected, wherefore, unless all their desires
are supplied, such men, being unused to all adversity, are cast down by every
little care: so small are the troubles which can rob them of complete happiness.
17 `How many are they, think you, who would think themselves raised to heaven
if the smallest part of the remnants of your good fortune fell to them? This
very place, which you call a place of exile, is home to those who live herein.
18 Thus there is nothing wretched unless you think it to be so: and in like manner
he who bears all with a calm mind finds his lot wholly blessed. 19 Who is
so happy but would wish to change his estate, if he yields to impatience of his
lot? 20 With how much bitterness is the sweetness of man's life mingled! For
even though its enjoyment seem pleasant, yet it may not be surely kept from
departing when it will. 21 It is plain then how wretched is the happiness of
mortal life which neither endures for ever with men of calm mind, nor ever
wholly delights the care-ridden. 22
Wherefore, then, O mortal men, seek ye that happiness without, which lies
within yourselves? 23 Ye are confounded by error and ignorance. I will shew
you as shortly as I may, the pole on which turns the highest happiness. Is
there aught that you value more highly than your own self? You will answer that
there is nothing. If then you are master of yourself, you will be in possession
of that which you will never wish to lose, and which Fortune will never be able
to take from you. 24 Yet consider this further, that you may be assured that
happiness cannot be fixed in matters of chance: 25 if happiness is the
highest good of a man who lives his life by reason, and if that which can by
any means be snatched away, is not the highest good (since that which is best
cannot be snatched away), it is plain that Fortune by its own uncertainty can
never come near to reaching happiness. 26 Further, the man who is borne along
by a happiness which may stumble, either knows that it may change, or knows it
not: if he knows it not, what happiness can there be in the blindness of
ignorance? If he knows it, he must needs live in fear of losing that which he
cannot doubt that he may lose; wherefore an ever-present fear allows not such
an one to be happy. Or at any rate, if he lose it without unhappiness, does he
not think it worthless? 27 For that, whose loss can be calmly borne, is indeed
a small good. 28 You, I know well, are firmly persuaded that men's
understandings can never die; this truth is planted deep in you by many proofs:
since then it is plain that the happiness of fortune is bounded by the death of
the body, you cannot doubt that, if death can carry away happiness, the whole
race of mortals is sinking into wretchedness to be found upon the border of
death. 29 But we know that many have sought the enjoyment of happiness not only
by death, but even by sorrow and sufferings: how then can the presence of this
life make us happy, when its end cannot make us unhappy?
Prosa 8
1 `But,' she
said, `do not think that I would urge implacable war upon Fortune. There are
times when her deception of men has certain merits: I mean when she discovers
herself, unveils her face, and proclaims her ways. 2 Perhaps you do not yet
understand what I would say. It is a strange thing that I am trying to say, and
for that reason I can scarcely explain myself in words. 3 I think that ill
fortune is of greater advantage to men than good fortune. Good fortune is ever
lying when she seems to favour by an appearance of happiness. Ill fortune is
ever true when by her changes she shews herself inconstant. 4 The one deceives;
the other edifies. The one by a deceitful appearance of good things enchains
the minds of those who enjoy them: the other frees them by a knowledge that
happiness is so fragile. You see, then, that the one is blown about by
winds, is ever moving and ever ignorant of its own self; the other is sober,
ever prepared and ever made provident by the undergoing of its very
adversities. 5 Lastly, good fortune draws men from the straight path of true
good by her fawning: ill fortune draws most men to the true good, and holds
them back by her curved staff. 6 And do you think that this should be
reckoned among the least benefits of this rough, unkind, and terrible ill
fortune, that she has discovered to you the minds of your faithful friends?
Fortune has distinguished for you your sure and your doubtful friends; her
departure has taken away her friends and left you yours. 7 At what price could
you have bought this benefit if you had been untouched and, as you thought,
fortunate? Cease then to seek the wealth you have lost. You have found your
friends, and they are the most precious of all riches.
Metrum 8
1 `Through
Love the universe with constancy
2 makes
changes all without discord:
3 earth's
elements, though contrary,
4 abide in
treaty bound:
5 Phoebus in
his golden car
6 leads up
the glowing day;
7 his sister
rules the night
8 that
Hesperus brought:
9 the greedy
sea
10 confines
its waves in bounds,
11 lest the
earth's borders
12 be changed
by its beating on them:
13 all these
are firmly bound by Love,
14 which
rules both earth and sea,
15 and has
its empire in the heavens too.
16 If Love
should slacken this its hold,
17 all mutual
love
18 would
change to war;
19 and these
would strive to undo the scheme
20 which now
their glorious movements carry out
21 with trust
and with accord.
22 By Love
are peoples too kept bound together
23 by a
treaty which they may not break.
24 Love binds
with pure affection
25 the sacred
tie of wedlock,
26 and speaks
its bidding
27 to all
trusty friends.
28 O happy
race of mortals,
29 if your
hearts are ruled
30 as is the
universe, by Love!