Boethius Consolatio Philosophiae
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.'
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.'
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.'
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
(. . .) 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?'
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?
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.
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!