THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY (Collector's Edition). Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius

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СКАЧАТЬ though India’s far-off land Bow before his wide command, Utmost Thule homage pay— If he cannot drive away

      Haunting care and black distress, In his power, he’s powerless.

      VI.

      ‘Again, how misleading, how base, a thing ofttimes is glory! Well does the tragic poet exclaim: ‘“Oh, fond Repute, how many a time and oft Hast them raised high in pride the base-born churl!”

      For many have won a great name through the mistaken beliefs of the multitude—and what can be imagined more shameful than that? Nay, they who are praised falsely must needs themselves blush at their own praises! And even when praise is won by merit, still, how does it add to the good conscience of the wise man who measures his good not by popular repute, but by the truth of inner conviction? And if at all it does seem a fair thing to get this same renown spread abroad, it follows that any failure so to spread it is held foul. But if, as I set forth but now, there must needs be many tribes and peoples whom the fame of any single man cannot reach, it follows that he whom thou esteemest glorious seems all inglorious in a neighbouring quarter of the globe. As to popular favour, I do not think it even worthy of mention in this place, since it never cometh of judgment, and never lasteth steadily.

      ‘Then, again, who does not see how empty, how foolish, is the fame of noble birth? Why, if the nobility is based on renown, the renown is another’s! For, truly, nobility seems to be a sort of reputation coming from the merits of ancestors. But if it is the praise which brings renown, of necessity it is they who are praised that are famous. Wherefore, the fame of another clothes thee not with splendour if thou hast none of thine own. So, if there is any excellence in nobility of birth, methinks it is this alone—that it would seem to impose upon the nobly born the obligation not to degenerate from the virtue of their ancestors.’

      Song VI. True Nobility.

      All men are of one kindred stock, though scattered far and wide; For one is Father of us all—one doth for all provide.

      He gave the sun his golden beams, the moon her silver horn; He set mankind upon the earth, as stars the heavens adorn.

      He shut a soul—a heaven-born soul—within the body’s frame; The noble origin he gave each mortal wight may claim.

      Why boast ye, then, so loud of race and high ancestral line?

      If ye behold your being’s source, and God’s supreme design, None is degenerate, none base, unless by taint of sin And cherished vice he foully stain his heavenly origin.

      VII.

      ‘Then, what shall I say of the pleasures of the body? The lust thereof is full of uneasiness; the sating, of repentance. What sicknesses, what intolerable pains, are they wont to bring on the bodies of those who enjoy them—the fruits of iniquity, as it were! Now, what sweetness the stimulus of pleasure may have I do not know. But that the issues of pleasure are painful everyone may understand who chooses to recall the memory of his own fleshly lusts. Nay, if these can make happiness, there is no reason why the beasts also should not be happy, since all their efforts are eagerly set upon satisfying the bodily wants. I know, indeed, that the sweetness of wife and children should be right comely, yet only too true to nature is what was said of one—that he found in his sons his tormentors. And how galling such a contingency would be, I must needs put thee in mind, since thou hast never in any wise suffered such experiences, nor art thou now under any uneasiness. In such a case, I agree with my servant Euripides, who said that a man without children was fortunate in his misfortune.’ [8]

      Song VII. Pleasure’s Sting.

      This is the way of Pleasure: She stings them that despoil her; And, like the wingéd toiler Who’s lost her honeyed treasure, She flies, but leaves her smart Deep-rankling in the heart.

      VIII.

      ‘It is beyond doubt, then, that these paths do not lead to happiness; they cannot guide anyone to the promised goal. Now, I will very briefly show what serious evils are involved in following them. Just consider. Is it thy endeavour to heap up money? Why, thou must wrest it from its present possessor! Art thou minded to put on the splendour of official dignity? Thou must beg from those who have the giving of it; thou who covetest to outvie others in honour must lower thyself to the humble posture of petition. Dost thou long for power? Thou must face perils, for thou wilt be at the mercy of thy subjects’ plots. Is glory thy aim? Thou art lured on through all manner of hardships, and there is an end to thy peace of mind. Art fain to lead a life of pleasure? Yet who does not scorn and contemn one who is the slave of the weakest and vilest of things—the body? Again, on how slight and perishable a possession do they rely who set before themselves bodily excellences! Can ye ever surpass the elephant in bulk or the bull in strength? Can ye excel the tiger in swiftness? Look upon the infinitude, the solidity, the swift motion, of the heavens, and for once cease to admire things mean and worthless. And yet the heavens are not so much to be admired on this account as for the reason which guides them. Then, how transient is the lustre of beauty! how soon gone!—more fleeting than the fading bloom of spring flowers. And yet if, as Aristotle says, men should see with the eyes of Lynceus, so that their sight might pierce through obstructions, would not that body of Alcibiades, so gloriously fair in outward seeming, appear altogether loathsome when all its inward parts lay open to the view? Therefore, it is not thy own nature that makes thee seem beautiful, but the weakness of the eyes that see thee. Yet prize as unduly as ye will that body’s excellences; so long as ye know that this that ye admire, whatever its worth, can be dissolved away by the feeble flame of athree days’ fever. From all which considerations we may conclude as a whole, that these things which cannot make good the advantages they promise, which are never made perfect by the assemblage of all good things—these neither lead as by-ways to happiness, nor themselves make men completely happy.’

      Song VIII. Human Folly.

      Alas! how wide astray

      Doth Ignorance these wretched mortals lead From Truth’s own way!

      For not on leafy stems

      Do ye within the green wood look for gold, Nor strip the vine for gems; Your nets ye do not spread Upon the hill-tops, that the groaning board With fish be furnishèd;

      If ye are fain to chase

      The bounding goat, ye sweep not in vain search The ocean’s ruffled face.

      The sea’s far depths they know, Each hidden nook, wherein the waves o’erwash The pearl as white as snow; Where lurks the Tyrian shell, Where fish and prickly urchins do abound, All this they know full well.

      But not to know or care

      Where hidden lies the good all hearts desire— This blindness they can bear; With gaze on earth low-bent, They seek for that which reacheth far beyond The starry firmament.

      What curse shall I call down On hearts so dull? May they the race still run For wealth and high renown!

      And when with much ado

      The false good they have grasped—ah, then too late!— May they discern the true!

      IX.

      ‘This much may well suffice to set forth the form of false happiness; if this is now clear to thine eyes, the next step is to show what true happiness is.’

      ‘Indeed,’ said I, ‘I see clearly enough that neither is independence to be found in wealth, nor power in sovereignty, nor reverence in dignities, nor fame in glory, nor true joy in СКАЧАТЬ