This saving of Pythagoras is quoted frequently in classical literature, e.g., Iamblichus, Vita Pyth. 18 (86), and Seneca, De vita beata 15. 5.Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius
A tremendously influential book written in the sixth century A.D. that bridged the classical philosophy of the ancient world and the religious piety of the Middle Ages, The Consolation of Philosophy was written in a prison cell by Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius (c. 480–524), Roman scholar, theologian, philosopher, and statesman. Boethius was imprisoned by the Ostrogothic king Theodoric, probably on false charges of treason, and was eventually tried and executed.
While awaiting his fate, Boethius wrote this dialogue in alternating prose and poetry between himself and his spiritual guardian. Its subject is the possibility of achieving happiness considering the suffering and disappointments that characterize human existence. As Richard H. Green, the translator, notes in his introduction,1 “For the reader of the Christian Middle Ages, The Consolation of Philosophy celebrated the life of the mind, or reason, and the possibility of its ultimate victory over the misfortunes and frustrations which attend fallen man’s pursuit of transitory substitutes for the Supreme Good which alone can satisfy human desires.” Reprinted here is Book One of The Consolation of Philosophy with the sections originally in poetry presented in a literal prose translation for the purpose of clarity.
BOOK I
POEM 1
I who once wrote songs with keen delight am now by sorrow driven to take up melancholy measures. Wounded Muses tell me what I must write, and elegiac verses bathe my face with real tears. Not even terror could drive from me these faithful companions of my long journey Poetry, which was once the glory of my happy and flourishing youth, is still my comfort in this misery of my old age.
Old age has come too soon with its evils, and sorrow has commanded me to enter the age which is hers. My hair is prematurely gray, and slack skin shakes on my exhausted body. Death, happy to men when she does not intrude in the sweet years, but comes when often called in sorrow, turns a deaf ear to the wretched and cruelly refuses to close weeping eyes.
The sad hour that has nearly drowned me came just at the time that faithless Fortune favored me with her worthless gifts. Now that she has clouded her deceitful face, my accursed life seems to go on endlessly. My friends, why did you so often think me happy? Any man who has fallen never stood securely.
PROSE 1
Lady Philosophy appears to him and drives away the Muses of poetry.
While I silently pondered these things, and decided to write down my wretched complaint, there appeared standing above me a woman of majestic countenance whose flashing eyes seemed wise beyond the ordinary wisdom of men. Her color was bright, suggesting boundless vigor, and yet she seemed so old that she could not be thought of as belonging to our age. Her height seemed to vary: sometimes she seemed of ordinary human stature, then again her head seemed to touch the top of the heavens. And when she raised herself to her full height she penetrated heaven itself, beyond the vision of human eyes. Her clothing was made of the most delicate threads, and by the most exquisite workmanship; it had—as she afterwards told me—been woven by her own hands into an everlasting fabric. Her clothes had been darkened in color somewhat by neglect and the passage of time, as happens to pictures exposed to smoke. At the lower edge of her robe was woven a Greek Π, at the top the letter Θ, and between them were seen clearly marked stages, like stairs, ascending from the lowest level to the highest.2 This robe had been torn, however, by the hands of violent men, who had ripped away what they could. In her right hand, the woman held certain books; in her left hand, a scepter.
When she saw the Muses of poetry standing beside my bed and consoling me with their words, she was momentarily upset and glared at them with burning eyes.3 “Who let these whores from the theater come to the bedside of this sick man?” she said. “They cannot offer medicine for his sorrows; they will nourish him only with their sweet poison. They kill the fruitful harvest of reason with the sterile thorns of the passions; they do not liberate the minds of men from disease, but merely accustom them to it. I would find it easier to bear if your flattery had, as it usually does, seduced some ordinary dull-witted man; in that case, it would have been no concern of mine. But this man has been educated in the philosophical schools of the Eleatics and the Academy.4 Get out, you Sirens; your sweetness leads to death. Leave him to be cured and made strong by my Muses.”
And so the defeated Muses, shamefaced and with downcast eyes, went sadly away. My sight was so dimmed by tears that I could not tell who this woman of imperious authority might be, and I lay there astonished, my eyes staring at the earth, silently waiting to see what she would do. She came nearer and sat at the foot of my bed. When she noticed my grief-stricken, downcast face, she reproved my anxiety with this song.
“Alas! how this mind is dulled, drowned in the overwhelming depths. It wanders in outer darkness, deprived of its natural light. Sick anxiety, inflated by worldly winds, swells his thoughts to bursting.
“Once this man was free beneath the ocean heaven, and he used to run along heavenly paths. He saw the splendor of the red sun, the heaven of the cold moon. And any star that pursued its vagrant paths, returning through various spheres, this master understood by his computations.
“Beyond all this, he sought the causes of things: why the sighing winds vex the seawaves; what spirit turns the stable world; and why the sun rises out of the red east to fall beneath the western ocean. He sought to know what tempers the gentle hours of spring and makes them adorn the earth with rosy flowers; what causes fertile autumn to flow with bursting grapes in a good year.
“This man used to explore and reveal Nature’s secret causes. Now he lies here, bound down by heavy chains, the light of his mind gone out; his head is bowed down and he is forced to stare at the dull earth.
PROSE 2
Seeing his desperate condition, Philosophy speaks more gently and promises to cure him.
“But,” she said, “it is time for medicine rather than complaint,” Fixing me with her eyes, she said: “Are you not he who once was nourished by my milk and brought up on my food; who emerged from weakness to the strength of a virile soul? I gave you weapons that would have protected you with invincible power, if you had not thrown them away. Don’t you recognize me? Why don’t you speak? Is it shame or astonishment that makes you silent? I’d rather it were shame, but I see that you are overcome by shock.” When she saw that I was not only silent but struck dumb, she gently laid her hand on my breast and said: “There is no danger. You are suffering merely from lethargy, the common illness of deceived minds. You have forgotten yourself a little, but you will quickly be yourself again when you recognize me. To bring you to your senses, I shall quickly wipe the dark cloud of mortal things from your eyes.” Then, she dried my tear-filled eyes with a fold of her robe.
Then, when the night was over, darkness left me and my eyes regained their former strength; just as when the stars are covered by swift Corus, and the sky is darkened by storm clouds, the sun hides and the stars do not shine; night comes down to envelop the earth. But if Boreas, blowing from his Thracian cave, beats and lays open the hiding day, then Phoebus shines forth, glittering with sudden light, and strikes our astonished eyes with his rays.5
PROSE 3
Boethius recognizes Lady Philosophy. She promises to help him as she has always helped those who love and serve her.
In a similar way, I too was able to see the heavens again when the clouds of my sorrow were swept away; I recovered my judgment and recognized the face of my physician. When I looked at her closely, I saw that she was Philosophy, my nurse, in whose house I had lived from my youth. “Mistress of all virtues,” I said, “why have you come, leaving the arc of heaven, to this lonely desert of our exile? Are you a prisoner, too, charged as I am with false accusations?”
She answered, “How could I desert my child, and not share with you the burden of sorrow you carry, a burden caused by hatred of my name? Philosophy has never thought it right to leave the innocent man alone on his journey. Should I fear to face my accusers, as though their enmity were something new? Do you suppose that this is the first time wisdom has been attacked and endangered by wicked men? We fought against such rashness and folly long ago, even before the time of our disciple Plato. And in Plato’s own time, his master Socrates, with my help, merited the victory of an unjust death.6 Afterwards, the inept schools of Epicureans, Stoics, and others, each seeking its own interests, tried to steal the inheritance of Socrates and to possess me (in spite of my protests and struggles), as though I were the spoils of their quarreling. They tore this robe which I had woven with my own hands and, having ripped off some little pieces of it, went away supposing that they possessed me wholly.7 Then, when traces of my garments were seen on some of them, they were rashly thought to be my friends, and they were therefore condemned by the error of the profane mob.
“Perhaps you have not heard of the banishment of Anaxagoras, the poisoning of Socrates, the torments of Zeno,8 for these men were strange to you. But you probably know about Canius, Seneca, and Soranus,9 for their fame is recent and widely known. They were disgraced only because they had been trained in my studies and therefore seemed obnoxious to wicked men. You should not be surprised, then, if we are blown about by stormy winds in the voyage of this life, since our main duty is to oppose the wicked. But, even though our enemies are numerous, we should spurn them because they are without leadership and are driven frantically this way and that by error. And if they sometimes attack us with extraordinary force, our leader withdraws her followers into a fortress, leaving our enemies to waste their energies on worthless spoils. While they fight over things of no value, we laugh at them from above, safe from their fury and defended by a strength against which their aggressive folly cannot prevail.
“The serene man who has ordered his life stands above menacing fate and unflinchingly faces good and bad fortune. This virtuous man can hold up his head unconquered. The threatening and raging ocean storms which churn the waves cannot shake him; nor can the bursting furnace of Vesuvius, aimlessly throwing out its smoky fire; nor the fiery bolts of lightning which can topple the highest towers. Why then are we wretched, frightened by fierce tyrants who rage without the power to harm us? He who hopes for nothing and fears nothing can disarm the fury of these impotent men; but he who is burdened by fears and desires is not master of himself. He throws away his shield and retreats; he fastens the chain by which he will be drawn.
PROSE 4
Boethius gives an account of his public career and especially of the causes of his present misery.10
“Do you understand what I have told you,” Philosophy asked; “have my words impressed you at all, or are you ‘like the ass which cannot hear the lyre’?11 Why are you crying? Speak out, don’t hide what troubles you. If you want a doctor’s help, you must uncover your wound.”12
I pulled myself together and answered: “Do I have to explain; isn’t the misery of my misfortune evident enough? I should think this place alone would make you pity me. Compare this prison with my library at home which you chose as your own and in which you often discussed with me the knowledge of human and divine things. Did I look like this? Was I dressed this way when I studied nature’s mysteries with you, when you mapped the courses of the stars for me with your geometer’s rod, when you formed my moral standards and my whole view of life according to the norm of the heavenly order?13 Are these miseries the rewards your servants should expect? You yourself proposed the course I have followed when you made Plato say that civil governments would be good if wise men were appointed rulers, or if those appointed to rule would study wisdom.14 Further, you decreed in the words of the same philosopher that government of the commonwealth ought to be in the hands of wise men; that if it should be left to unscrupulous and wicked men, they would bring about the ruin of the good.15
“On this authority, I decided to apply to public administration the principles I had learned privately from you. You, and God who gave you to the minds of wise men, know that I became a magistrate only because of the unanimous wish of all good men. For these reasons I have become involved in grave and hopeless trouble with dishonest men; and, as always happens to the administrator of independent conscience, I have had to be willing to make powerful enemies in the interest of safeguarding justice.
“I have often opposed the greed of Conigastus in his swindling of the poor. I have condemned the crimes of Triguilla, Provost of the King’s house, both in their beginnings and after they had been committed. At grave risk to my position I have protected the weak from the lies and avarice of cruel men in power. No man ever corrupted my administration of justice. I was as depressed as those who suffered the losses when I saw the wealth of our citizens dissipated either by private fraud or oppressive taxation. At the time of the severe famine, when prices were set so exorbitantly high that the province of Campania seemed about to starve, I carried on the people’s fight against the Praetorian Prefect himself and, with the King’s approval, I won—the fixed prices were not enforced.
“I saved Paulinus, the former Consul, from the howling dogs of the court who hoped to devour his wealth. In order to save Albinus, another former Consul, from unjust punishment, I risked the hatred of his accuser, Cyprian. One would think I had stirred up enough opposition. But I ought to have been defended by others, especially since, through devotion to justice, I had given up the favor of the courtiers who might have saved me. But who were the accusers who overthrew me? One of them was Basil who had earlier been expelled from the King’s service and was now forced by his debts to testify against me. My other accusers were Opilio and Gaudentius, also men banished by royal decree for their many corrupt practices. They tried to avoid exile by taking sanctuary, but when the King heard of it he decreed that, if they did not leave Ravenna by a certain day, they should be branded on the forehead and forcibly expelled. How could the King’s judgment have been more severe? And yet on that very day their testimony against me was accepted. Why should this have happened? Did I deserve it? Did their criminal records make them just accusers? Fortune ought to have been shamed, if not by the innocence of the accused, then at least by the villainy of the accusers.
“Finally, what am I accused of? They say I desired the safety of the Senate. But how? I am convicted of having hindered their accuser from giving evidence that the Senate is guilty of treason. What is your judgment, my teacher? Shall I deny the charge in order to avoid shaming you? But I did desire to protect the Senate, and I always will. And how can I confess, since I have already stopped hindering their accuser? Shall I consider it a crime to have supported the integrity of the Senate? It is true that the Senate itself, by its decrees against me, has made my position a crime. But folly, driven by self-deception, cannot change the merits of the case; nor, following the rule of Socrates, can I think it right either to hide the truth or concede a lie.16 I leave it to you, and to the judgment of the wise, whether my course of action is right. I have put this in writing so that posterity may know the truth and have a record of these events.
“Why should I even mention the spurious letters in which I am charged with having hoped for Roman liberty? That fraud would have been exposed had I been permitted to use the confession of my accusers, the strongest evidence in any case. But there is now no hope for freedom of any kind—I only wish there were. I should have answered in the words of Canius when Gaius Caesar, son of Germanicus,17 accused Canius of having known of a conspiracy against him: ‘If I had known of it,’ Canius said, ‘you would never have known.’ But I am not so discouraged by what has happened to me that I complain now of the attacks of wicked men against virtue; the reason for my surprise is that they have accomplished what they set out to do. The desire to do evil may be due to human weakness; but for the wicked to overcome the innocent in the sight of God—that is monstrous. I cannot blame that friend of yours who said, ‘If there is a God, why is there evil? And if there is no God, how can there be good?’18 It is not surprising that evil men, who want to destroy all just men, and the Senate too, should try to overthrow one who stood up for justice and the Senate. But surely I did not deserve the same treatment from the Senators themselves.
“You remember well that you always directed me in everything I said and everything I tried to do or say. You recall, for example, the time at Verona when the King wanted to overturn the government and tried to involve the whole Senate in the treason of which Albinus was accused; then, at great risk to my personal safety I defended the innocence of the whole Senate. You know that this is true, and that I have never acted out of a desire for praise; for integrity of conscience is somehow spoiled when a man advertises what he has done and receives the reward of public recognition. But you see where my innocence has brought me; instead of being rewarded for true virtue, I am falsely punished as a criminal. Even the full confession of a crime does not usually make all the judges in the case equally severe; some, at least, temper their severity by recognizing the errors of human judgment and the uncertain conditions of fortune to which all mortals are subject. If I had been accused of plotting the burning of churches, the murder of priests, even the murder of all good men, even then I would have been sentenced only after I had confessed and been convicted, and when I was present before the court. But now, five hundred miles away, mute and defenseless, I am condemned to proscription and death because of my concern for the safety of the Senate. The Senate deserves that no one should ever again be convicted for such a ‘crime’!
“Even my accusers understood the honor implicit in the charges they brought against me, and, in order to confuse the issue by the appearance of some crime, they falsely alleged that I had corrupted my conscience with sacrilege out of a desire for advancement. But your spirit, alive within me, had driven from my soul all sordid desire for earthly success, and those whom you protect do not commit sacrilege. You have daily reminded me of Pythagoras’ saying: ‘Follow God.’19 It is not likely that I would have sought the protection of evil spirits at a time when you were forming in me that excellence which makes man like God. Moreover, the innocence of my family, the honesty of my closest friends, the goodness of my father-in-law,20 who is as worthy of honor as yourself—all these ought to have shielded me from any suspicion of this crime. But the worst is that my enemies readily believe that wisdom itself is capable of the crime of ambition, and so they associate me with such misconduct because I am imbued with your knowledge and endowed with your virtues. So, my reverence for you is no help; their hatred of me leads them to dishonor you.
“Finally, and this is the last straw, the judgment of most people is based not on the merits of a case but on the fortune of its outcome; they think that only things which turn out happily are good. As a result, the first thing an unfortunate man loses is his good reputation. I cannot bear to think of the rumors and various opinions that are now going around; I can only say that the final misery of adverse fortune is that when some poor man is accused of a crime, it is thought that he deserves whatever punishment he has to suffer. Well, here am I, stripped of my possessions and honors, my reputation ruined, punished because I tried to do good.
“It seems to me that I can see wicked men everywhere celebrating my fall with great pleasure, and all the criminally depraved concocting new false charges. I see good men terrorized into helplessness by my danger, and evil men encouraged to risk any crime with impunity and able to get away with it by bribery. The innocent are deprived not only of their safety, but even of any defense. Now hear my appeal.
POEM 5
Boethius concludes with a prayer.
“Creator of the star-filled universe, seated upon your eternal throne You move the heavens in their swift orbits. You hold the stars in their assigned paths, so that sometimes the shining moon is full in the light of her brother sun and hides the lesser stars; sometimes, nearer the sun she wanes and loses her glory. You ordain that Hesperus, after rising at nightfall to drive the cold stars before him, should change his role and, as Lucifer, grow pale before the rising sun.21
“When the cold of winter makes the trees bare, You shorten the day to a briefer span; but when warm summer comes, You make the night hours go swiftly. Your power governs the changing year: in spring, Zephyrus renews the delicate leaves22 that Boreas, the wind of winter, had destroyed; and Sirius burns the high corn in autumn that Arcturus had seen in seed.23
“Nothing escapes Your ancient law; nothing can avoid the work of its proper station. You govern all things, each according to its destined purpose. Human acts alone, O Ruler of All, You refuse to restrain within just bounds. Why should uncertain Fortune control our lives?
“Harsh punishment, deserved by the criminal, afflicts the innocent. Immoral scoundrels now occupy positions of power and unjustly trample the rights of good men. Virtue, which ought to shine forth, is covered up and hides in darkness, while good men must suffer for the crimes of the wicked. Perjury and deceit are not held blameworthy as long as they are covered by the color of lies. When these scoundrels choose to use their power they can intimidate even powerful kings, because the masses fear them.
“O God, whoever you are who joins all things in perfect harmony, look down upon this miserable earth! We men are no small part of Your great work, yet we wallow here in the stormy sea of fortune. Ruler of all things, calm the roiling waves and, as You rule the immense heavens, rule also the earth in stable concord.”
PROSE 5
Philosophy suggests that the source of the prisoner’s trouble is within himself and begins to reassure him.
While I poured out my long sad story, Philosophy looked on amiably, quite undismayed by my complaints. Then she said: “When I first saw you downcast and crying, I knew you were in misery and exile. But without your story I would not have known how desperate your exile is. You have not been driven out of your homeland; you have willfully wandered away. Or, if you prefer to think that you have been driven into exile, you yourself have done the driving, since no one else could do it. For if you can remember your true country you know that it is not, as Athens once was, ruled by many persons; rather ‘it has one ruler and one king,’24 who rejoices in the presence of citizens, not in their expulsion. To be governed by his power and subject to his laws is the greatest liberty. Surely you know the oldest law of your true city, that the citizen who has chosen to establish his home there has a sacred right not to be driven away.25 The man who lives within the walls of that city need not fear banishment; but if he loses his desire to live there, he loses also the assurance of safety. And so, I am not so much disturbed by this prison as by your attitude. I do not need your library with its glass walls and ivory decoration, but I do need my place in your mind. For there I have placed not books but that which gives value to books, the ideas which are found in my writings.
“What you have said about your merits in the commonwealth is true; your many services deserve even more than you claim. And what you have said about the truth or falsity of the accusations against you is well known to everyone. You were right to speak sparingly of the crimes and deceit of your enemies; such things are better talked about by the man in the street who hears about them. You have sharply protested the injustice done you by the Senate; and you have expressed sorrow for the accusations against me and the weakening of my place in the public esteem. Finally, you protested against Fortune in sorrow and anger, and complained that rewards are not distributed equally on the grounds of merit. At the end of your bitter poem, you expressed the hope that the same peace which rules the heavens might also rule the earth. But because you are so upset by sorrow and anger, and so blown about by the tumult of your feelings, you are not now in the right frame of mind to take strong medicine. For the time being, then, I shall use more gentle treatment, so that your hardened and excited condition may be softened by gentle handling and thus prepared for more potent remedies.
“The fool who plants his seed in the hard ground when summer burns with the sun’s heat26 must feed on acorns in the fall, because his hope of harvest is in vain. Do not look for violets in purple meadows when fields are blasted by winter winds. And do not cut your vine branches in the spring if you want to enjoy the grapes, for Bacchus brings his fruit in autumn.27
“God assigns to every season its proper office; and He does not permit the condition He has set to be altered. Every violent effort to upset His established order will fail in the end.
PROSE 6
Philosophy begins to remind Boethius of certain basic truths which will place his misfortunes in proper perspective.
“First,” Philosophy said, “will you let me test your present attitude with a few questions, so that I can decide on a way to cure you?”
“Ask whatever you like,” I replied, “and I will try to answer.”
“Do you think,” she began, “that this world is subject to random chance, or do you believe that it is governed by some rational principle?”
“I cannot suppose that its regular operation can be the result of mere chance; indeed, I know that God the Creator governs his work, and the day will never come when I can be shaken from the truth of this judgment.”
“That is true,” Philosophy answered, “and you said as much in your poem a while ago when you deplored the fact that only men were outside Gods care. You did not doubt that all other things were ruled by reason. Strange, isn’t it, that one who has so healthy an attitude should be so sick with despair. We must search further, because obviously something is missing. Tell me, since you have no doubt that the world is ruled by God, do you know how it is governed?”
“I don’t quite get the point of your question, so I am unable to answer.”
“You see, I was right in thinking that you had some weakness, like a breach in the wall of a fort, through which the sickness of anxiety found its way into your soul.
“But tell me, do you remember what the end, or goal, of all things is—the goal toward which all nature is directed?”
“I heard it once,” I answered, “but grief has dulled my memory.”
“Well, do you know where all things come from?”
I answered that I knew all things came from God.
“How then,” she went on, “is it possible that you can know the origin of all things and still be ignorant of their purpose? But this is the usual result of anxiety; it can change a man, but it cannot break him and cannot destroy him.
I want you to answer this, too: do you remember that you are a man?”
“How could I forget that,” I answered.
“Well then, what is a man? Can you give me a definition?”
“Do you mean that I am a rational animal, and mortal? I know that, and I admit that I am such a creature.”
“Do you know nothing else about what you are?”
“No, nothing.”
“Now, I know another cause of your sickness, and the most important: you have forgotten what you are. And so I am fully aware of the reason for your sickness and the remedy for it too. You are confused because you have forgotten what you are, and, therefore, you are upset because you are in exile and stripped of all your possessions. Because you are ignorant of the purpose of things, you think that stupid and evil men are powerful and happy. And, because you have forgotten how the world is governed, you suppose that these changes of your fortune came about without purpose. Such notions are enough to cause not only sickness but death. But be grateful to the Giver of health that nature has not entirely forsaken you. For you have the best medicine for your health in your grasp of the truth about the way the world is governed. You believe that the world is not subject to the accidents of chance, but to divine reason. Therefore, you have nothing to fear. From this tiny spark, the living fire can be rekindled. But the time has not yet come for stronger remedies. It is the nature of men’s minds that when they throw away the truth they embrace false ideas, and from these comes the cloud of anxiety which obscures their vision of truth. I shall try to dispel this cloud by gentle treatment, so that when the darkness of deceptive feeling is removed you may recognize the splendor of true light.
“Stars hidden by black clouds send down no light. If the wild south wind28 churns up the sea, the waves which once were clear as glass, as clear as the bright days, seem muddy and filthy to the beholder. The flowing stream, tumbling down from the high mountain, is often blocked by the stone broken off from the rocky cliff.
“So it is with you. If you want to see the truth in clear light, and follow the right road, you must cast off all joy and fear. Fly from hope and sorrow. When these things rule, the mind is clouded and bound to the earth.”
1 Richard H. Green, Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy, translated with an Introduction and Notes (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1962).
2 Π and Θ are the first letters of the Greek words for the two divisions of philosophy, theoretical and practical. Boethius wrote (In Porph. Dial I. 3): “. . . for philosophy is a genus of which there are two species, one of which is called theoretical, the other practical, that is, speculative and active.”
3 Boethius’ condemnation of the Muses provided the enemies of poetry in the later Middle Ages with a powerful, if specious, argument. In his authoritative and influential Genealogy of the Gods, Boccaccio argues that Boethius is here condemning only a certain kind of obscene theatrical poetry; he cites Boethius’ extensive use of ancient poetry and myth as evidence of a high regard for poetry. See Boccaccio on Poetry, tr. C. G. Osgood, “Library of Liberal Arts,” No. 82 (New York, 1956), pp. 94–96.
4 The Eleatics represent a school of Greek philosophy at Elea in Italy. Zeno, one of its members in the fifth century B.C., was thought to be the inventor of dialectic, the art of reasoning about matters of opinion. The Academy is the traditional name for Plato’s school of philosophy.
5 Corus, the north-west wind; Boreas, the north wind. Thrace, part of modern Turkey, was regarded by the ancients as an extreme northern place. Phoebus is the sun.
6 Socrates was accused of corrupting youth and ridiculing the gods. In 399 B.C., the Athenian state condemned him to death (by drinking poison). For a description of the death scene of Socrates, see Plato, Phaedo 115a–118.
7 Boethius, and most other medieval thinkers until the late thirteenth century, regarded Plato as the greatest of the ancient philosophers. Philosophy’s robe is the figure of the unity of true philosophy; this unity was, in Boethius’ opinion, shattered by such limited philosophies as Epicureanism, based on the principle of pleasure, and Stoicism, based on the principle that whatever happens must be accepted without grief or joy. Epicurus founded his school in Greece late in the fourth century B.C. The Stoic school was founded by Zeno of Athens at about the same time.
8 Anaxagoras, a Greek astronomer and philosopher, was banished from Athens when his theory of the heavens led to his being accused of impiety. He was exiled about 450 B.C. Zeno of Elea was tortured by Nearchus from whose tyranny he had sought to deliver his country. Boethus is comparing his own predicament to those of earlier philosophers who were punished for honoring their principles.
9 Julius Canius was executed about A.D. 40 for reproaching the Roman Emperor Caligula. Seneca, the great Roman poet and philosopher of the first century, and a high public official under Nero, was accused of conspiracy by the emperor and forced to commit suicide. Soranus was also a victim of Nero’s tyranny; he was condemned to death in A.D. 66.
10 Refer to introductory note on page 56 above regarding the historical circumstances of Boethius’ imprisonment and death.
11 Boethius here cites the Greek proverb: ὄνος λύρας.
12 Cf. Homer, Iliad I. 363.
13 Cf. Plato, Republic 592b.
14 Cf. Plato, Republic 473d, 487e.
15 Cf. Plato, Epistle X 350b; Republic 347c.
16 Plato, Theaetetus 151d and Republic 485c.
17 Gaius Caesar is the Emperor Caligula. (See above, note 8.)
18 The friend is Epicurus; the quotation is from Lactantius, De ira Dei 13. 21.
19 Boethius gives the Greek ἕπου θε This saving of Pythagoras is quoted frequently in classical literature, e.g., Iamblichus, Vita Pyth. 18 (86), and Seneca, De vita beata 15. 5.
20 Symmachus, also executed by Theodoric.
21 Evening Star (Hesperus) and Morning Star (Lucifer) both signify the planet Venus. Literally the poet says that Hesperus changes his customary reins (i.e., his chariot) to become Lucifer.
22 Zephyrus, the west wind, was said to produce fruits and flowers by his breath.
23 Sirius, the dog-star, supposedly supplied great heat to cause crops to ripen. Arcturus was the brightest star in the constellation Boötes.
24 Homer, Iliad II. 204.
25 Boethius compares the inner security of the philosopher with the civil rights provided by Roman law.
26 Literally, “when the sign of Cancer, heavy with the rays of Apollo, burns down.”
27 Bacchus, god of wine.
28 In the text the south wind is called Auster.