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Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy

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Philosophia consoles Boethius
(c. 1200)

Boethius's Consolation Of Philosophy is a 1785, Philip Ridpath translation of Roman philosopher Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius' philosophical work of 523 AD, written while imprisoned and awaiting execution by Theodoric the Great. It is often described as the last great Western work of Classical antiquity. Consolation heavily influenced the philosophy of late antiquity, as well as Christianity of the Middle Ages and early Renaissance.

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Translated from the Latin, with Notes and Illustrations, By the Rev. Mr. Philip Ridpath, Minister of Hutton, Berwickshire. London: Printed for C. Dilly, in the Poultry. M.DCC.LXXXV. Note: statements by Boethius in this dialogue with "Lady Philosophy" are indicated by a ৳ symbol.

Book One

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Boethius deplores his misfortunes in a pathetic elegy.——Philosophy appears to him.——She commands the muses to leave him.——Expresses her concern for him.——Adduces examples of wise men who had struggled with equal difficulties.——Boethius relates to Philosophy his merits.——He notifies to her his accusation and banishment.——Declares the sanctity and integrity of his life.——Laments the loss of his dignities and reputation.——Philosophy consoles him.——She enquires particularly into the troubles of his mind, and the causes of them.
  • ৳ IN flower of youth, with love of learning blest,
    My verse was wont in cheerful strains to flow;
    But now, by Fortune's cruel rage-opprest,
    I mourn in numbers suited to my woe.

    The sacred Nine, companions of my grief.
    Their soften'd features wet with many a tear.
    Try all their pleasing art to give relief,
    And whisper verse mellifluous in my ear,

    They, faithful friends, still trace my woful ways,
    Regardless of the haughty tyrant's rage,
    Whilom, the glory of my youthful days.
    Now, the chief solace of my drooping age.

    Silver'd my hairs, and furrow'd deep my brow.
    Unbrac'd each nerve, tho' scarce beyond my prime.
    With rapid haste borne on the wings of wo.
    Old age advances, not on wings of time.

    Happy the man, with health and affluence blest,
    Into whose halcyon days intrudes not death;
    From ceaseless wo, still happier who finds rest.
    And yields to fate, long-wish'd, his willing breath.

    Death, kind deliv'rer from all grief and pain.
    Why stays thy hand my weeping eyes to close?
    Thy aid, ah cruel! I implore in vain;
    Deaf to my cries, thou wilt not give repose.

    With gladd'ning beams, while treach'rous fortune, shone,
    Disease had almost snatch'd my bliss away,
    With every joy, since now the wanton's flown,
    Why does slow time still lengthen out my day?

    Why did you boast of my exalted state?
    Mistaken friends, were ye not much to blame?
    Learn this great truth, from my disastrous fate,
    All human bliss is but an empty name.

   Philosophia's Ladder
of Liberal Arts (1230)
  • Whilst I vented my grief in these melancholy strains, and, with tears streaming from my eyes, was committing them to paper, I was struck with the appearance of a woman, whose countenance was altogether august and venerable. Her eyes sparkled with fire, and her look was far more piercing than that of any mortal. Her complexion was comely and healthful, and she seemed to possess all the vigour of youth; nevertheless her appearance was such as denoted her to have lived many years, and that her existence began long before the present age. The height of her stature could not be determined, as she varied it at pleasure; now, she seemed to contrast herself to the ordinary size of men; anon, she appeared to reach the skies with her head; nay, she would at times elevate herself still higher, and penetrate so far into the heavens, as to surmount the reach of the most acute and discerning eye. The stuff of which her robe was composed was indissoluble; it was of the finest thread, woven with wonderful art, and was the work of her own hands... But as smoke and dust obscures ancient pictures, so neglect and the rust of antiquity had rendered the beauty of this stuff scarcely to be discerned. On the lower part of her garment was embroidered in a large and strong character the letter P, on the upper G; the former denoting Philosophy; the latter, God; and betwixt these two letters a flight of stairs was delineated, signifying that the ascent to God was by philosophy.
    • Footnote: In the original, the letter marked on the lower part of the garment is the Greek letter Π; on the upper part of it, is the Greek letter θ. The interpretation I have given of the meaning of these letters being marked on the robe of Philosophy; that the former letter signifies Philosophy, and the latter God, is the most natural, and probably the true meaning. Most... commentators... understand by Π the practice of philosophy, and by θ the theory of it. Theory, say they, is placed in the upper part of the garment because contemplative philosophy is more noble than practical; and a flight of stairs, they add, is placed betwixt the letters, denoting that students of wisdom ought to ascend to the one, and descend to the other; because there can be no exercise of virtue without a contemplation of truth, nor can there be any usseful contemplation of truth without the practice of virtue.
  • ৳ This admirable garment, however, had been rent by the fury of some violent men, who had torn several shreds out of it, and carried them off. Thus did she appear; and to conclude, she held some writings in her right hand, and a scepter in her left.
  • Beholding the Muses, the inspirers of song, standing round my bed, and lending words to my grief, she was displeased; and looking upon them with a stern and threatening aspect...
  • Who gives permission... to these soul-enervating daughters of the theatre, to approach this disconsolate person? So far are they from remedying his woes by any art of theirs, that they nourish them by their soft and enfeebling poisons. It is they who teach their votaries to choke and destroy, by the pernicious brambles of the passions, the most abundant and useful crops of reason. They may... sooth and indulge the mind in its grief; but they cannot restore it to comfort. If by your deceitful caresses... you had seduced one of the profane, as you are daily wont to do, small would have been my concern: I should not thereby have been injured; for it is only in the sons of wisdom I am interested. But whom do you attack? One who has been trained up from his infancy in the principles of Zeno and the Academy.——Be gone! ye baneful sirens, with your strains that enchant to destruction. Be gone! leave him to me; it is only my sober muse that can effectuate his cure.
    • Note: Since the muse Polyhymnia has sometimes been associated with geometry and meditation, perhaps she was not included as baneful, and was allowed to stay?
  • ৳ Struck with these reproaches, the tuneful choir cast down their eyes with respect; and testifying their shame by their glowing cheeks, they immediately left the room, and, filled with sorrow, fled her presence. As for myself, my eyes were blinded by a flood of tears, so that I could not discover who this august dame was, endued with an authority so absolute. I was amazed; with my countenance fixed on the ground, I waited in silence her pleasure. She... approached, and sat down on the foot of my bed; and beholding my dejected eye, and my face disfigured with grief, she bewailed my wretched condition in the following moving strains:
  • Ah! hapless state of human race!
    How quick do all their pleasures pass!
    And too, too weak their minds to bear
    Life's varied scenes of woe and care.
    When grief's sharp thorn the heart assails.
    Of wisdom's sons the purpose fails;
    Their boasted vigour soon gives way,
    Dark melancholy clouds their day;
    The helm no longer reason steers,
    But lawless passion domineers.

       Too sad a proof of this, alas!
    Ah, wretched mortal, is your case!
    Whilst undisgrac'd and unconfin'd,
    How firm and vigorous was your mind!
    Still ranging with unwearied view
    Creation's ample circuit thro'.
    The sun, refulgent source of day,
    You trac'd o'er all his radiant way;
    The moon that shines with borrowed light,
    And cheers with radiance mild the night,
    The silver moon's mysterious round
    Was by your magic numbers bound;
    The planets too that wand'ring go.
    And seem no settled course to know,
    Their periods, various and perplex'd,
    Were, by your art victorious, fix'd;
    Your tow'ring genius could resolve,
       What makes the heaven's vast frame revolve,
    Whilst all the lights that gild the skies,
    In order, daily set and rise;
    You too could tell, where nature forms
    Her mighty magazines of storms,
    Which with impetuous fury roll,
    And shake the earth from pole to pole;
    Why Spring awakes the genial hours,
    And decks th' enamell'd field with flow'rs,
    You knew;—and why kind Autumn's hand
    Diffuses plenty o'er the land:
    Thro' all her mazes you pursued
    Coy Nature, and her secrets viewed.

       But ah! sad change! that soaring mind
    Is now disconsolate and blind;
    To earth-born cares a wretched prey.
    And all the man is sunk away.
    Relentless fate has fix'd those eyes
    To earth, that whilom pierc'd the skies.

Book Five

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Philosophy Defines Chance.———She explains wherein freedom of will consists.———She solves the old objection against Providence, by proving that the prescience of God neither binds man's will, nor destroys human liberty.
  • I am... desirous of knowing, whether there is any such thing as Chance, and what you think it is... [T]o learn those things that are so delightfully instructing, will be more refreshing... than rest itself... [Y]our discourse... will rest on the basis of unquestionable truth, and it will not be possible for me to retain any doubt in relation to what shall remain to be discussed.
  • If Chance is defined an event produced by motion, operating without design, and not by a chain or connexion of causes, I should then affirm it to be nothing; and, except as a word... I pronounce it an empty sound, without... signification.
  • For how can any thing happen without design, when all events, through the influence of Almighty Power, are restrained by order?
  • That from nothing, nothing can proceed, is an axiom, the truth of which none of the antients ever called in question: tho' this axiom be true, only as it relates to all created existences, but by no means true as it respects their efficient cause.
  • Now if any thing arises without... a cause, it must proceed from nothing; but as this is evidently impossible, Chance is not therefore what it is asserted to be in the foregoing definition.
  • ৳ What... is there nothing fortuitous? nothing that may be called Chance? is not there any thing, tho' concealed from the apprehensions of the vulgar, to which these appellations may be applied?
  • Aristotle, my disciple... has in his Physicks explained this question with much precision and probability.—"If any thing... is done for a particular end or purpose, but if a certain concurrence of causes produces some other thing than was intended, it is called Chance.—For instance; if a labourer in digging a piece of ground, with a view to improve it, discovers a concealed treasure, this is said to happen by chance: but this discovery of the labourer does not spring from nothing; it arises from particular causes; the unforeseen and unexpected concourse of which brings about the event. For if the labourer had not trenched the ground, and the person who concealed the treasure had not buried it in that very spot, it had not been discovcred."
  • These then are the causes of this fortuitous acquisition: from these alone it arose, and not from any intention of the human will. For it was not the design, either of the person who hid the treasure, nor of him who laboured the ground, that this discovery should have been made. But as I just now said, the one finding it convenient to dig, where the other had concealed the money, by the concurrence of these two causes, the former obtained the prize. Chance may be therefore defined, an unexpected event, by a concurrence of causes, following an action designed for a [different] particular purpose. ...[T]his concurrence of causes is the effect of that necessary order, which streams from the pure fountain of Providence, and disposes every thing in its proper time and place.
  • Where flying Parthians pierce th' astonish'd foe
       With deathful shafts; from lofty Taurus' side,
    The rapid Tigris, and Euphrates flow,
       And o'er the desart pour one current wide.

    But soon the streams divided trace their way,
       And winding on, in separate channels glide,
    Thro' sandy wastes and peopled realms they stray,
       Till, join'd again, they pour a mighty tide.

    Whate'er th' impetuous rivers bore along,
       Boat, ships, and trees, now in their blended stream
    Are dash'd and huddl'd in tumultuous throng,
       And by blind Chance the currents guided seem.

    But Chance capricious holds no empire here;
       The rolling rivers Nature's laws obey
    ;—
    Declining still, their downward tracks they steer,
       And lighter bodies in their streams convey.

    They mix, and separate, and unite again,
       By Sovereign Wisdom taught their beds to know:—
    Rest: then in this; Chance holds no ruling rein.
       But kind intention governs all below.

    • Footnote: It was supposed by the ancients, that the Tigris and the Euphrates issued from the same source, Mount Taurus, and poured along in one current; but that this current afterwards was divided into two separate streams: this is now found not to be the case. The sources of these rivers are distant from one another about 250 miles. After encompassing the ancient Mesopotamia and Babylonia, these rivers join their streams, and flow together into the Persian Gulph.
  • ৳ [B]ut in this indissoluble chain of causes, can we preserve the liberty of the will? Does this fatal Necessity restrain the motions of the human soul?
  • There is no reasonable being... who has not freedom of will: for every being distinguished with this faculty is endowed with judgment to perceive the differences of things; to discover what he is to avoid or pursue.
  • Now what a person esteems desirable, he desires; but what he thinks ought to be avoided, he shuns. Thus every rational creature hath a liberty of chusing and rejecting. But I do not assert, that this liberty is equal in all beings.
  • Heavenly substances, who are exalted above us, have an enlightened judgment, an incorruptible will, and a power ever at command effectually to accomplish their desires.
  • With regard to man, his immaterial spirit is also free; but it is most at liberty, when employed in the contemplation of the divine mind; it becomes less so, when it enters into a body; and is still more restrained, when it is imprisoned in a terrestrial habitation, composed of members of clay; and is reduced, in fine, to the most extreme servitude, when by plunging into the pollutions of vice, it totally departs from reason: for the soul no sooner turns her eye from the radiance of supreme truth, to dark and base objects, but she is involved in a mist of ignorance, assailed by impure desires; by yielding to which, she encreases her thraldom; and thus the freedom which she derives from nature, becomes in some measure the cause of her slavery.
  • As Homer says of the sun, it sees every thing, and hears every thing.
    • Footnote: Epictetus in Arrian says. And is not God capable of surveying all things, and being present with all, and receiving a certain communication from all? Is the sun capable of illuminating so great a portion of the universe, and of leaving only that small part of it unilluminated, which is covered by the shadow of the earth? and cannot he who made and revolves the sun, a small part of himself, if compared with the whole; cannot he perceive all things? (Mrs. Carter's Translation...)
  • Homer, in mellifluous lays,
    Sings the sun's all-piercing rays.—
    Phœbus' beams, whom men adore.
    Only stream the surface o'er,
    Reach not Tellus' hidden caves.
    Pierce not Ocean's rolling waves.

       But th' Eternal from on high,
    With his all-perceiving eye,
    Sees his wide creation through—
    Starting open to his view;
    (While her sable mantles, Night
    Vainly spreads to bar his sight)
    Darteth He, with piercing ray,
    Where Sol's beams can never stray;
    Sees—what's hid in earth's dark caves,
    Sees—what lurks beneath the waves:
    All events at once doth see,
    Present, past, and what shall be.

       Him the Sun then rightly call—
    God, who sees and lightens all.

  • ৳ God's foreknowledge of all events... seems... inconsistent with the free-will of man: for if God foresees all things, and cannot possibly be deceived, then, that which he foresees to happen in future, must necessarily happen: if from eternity God had foreseen not only the actions of men, but their designs and wills, there would be no liberty of choice; as in this case men have it not in their power to do any action, nor to form any will, but those which have been foreseen by God's infallible Providence. In fact, if things could be wrested in such a manner, as to happen otherwise than they have been foreseen, the prescience of God, in regard to futurity, would not be sure and unerring; it would be nothing more than an uncertain opinion: but I esteem it impious to entertain such an idea of God; nor do I at all approve the reasoning made use of by some, for the solution of this perplexing question.
  • ৳ "Things, say they, do not necessarily befal, because the Divine Providence hath foreseen they were to happen; but rather, because they were to happen. Providence could not be ignorant of them."
  • ৳ Now by this way of reasoning, the necessity appears as it were to change sides: for it is not necessary, according to their opinion, that the things which are foreseen should happen; but it is necessary, however, that the things which are to befal should be foreseen; as if the question was, which was the cause of the other—prescience, of the necessity of future events; or the necessity, of the prescience of future events. But I shall now endeavour to demonstrate, that in whatever way the chain of causes is disposed, the event of things which are foreseen is necessary; although prescience may not appear to be the necessitating cause of their befalling.
  • ৳ For example; if a person sits, the opinion formed of him that he is seated, is of necessity true: but by inverting the phrase, if the opinion is true that he is seated, he must necessarily sit. In both cases then there is a necessity; in the latter, that the person sits; in the former, that the opinion concerning him is true: but the person doth not sit, because the opinion of his sitting is true; but the opinion is rather true, because the action of his being seated was antecedent in time. Thus tho' the truth of the opinion may be the effect of the person taking a seat, there is nevertheless a necessity common to both.
  • ৳ The same method of reasoning... should be employed with regard to the prescience of God, and future contingencies: for allowing it to be true, that events are foreseen, because they are to happen, and that they do not befal because they are foreseen; it is still neccessary, that what is to happen must be foreseen by God, and that what is foreseen must take place. This then is of itself sufficient to destroy all idea of human liberty.
  • ৳ But it is preposterous thus to attribute the eternal prescience of God to the event of temporal things: for what difference is there in imagining, that God doth foresee future events because they are to happen; and to suppose that what hath actually happened in time past was the cause of his sovereign prescience? Moreover, as a thing necessarily is, when I know it be, so it will necessarily be when I know it is; the event therefore of a thing foreseen, must necessarily befal.
  • ৳ Lastly, if a person supposes a thing different from what it is; this is not a knowledge of the thing in question, but a false opinion of it, widely distant from the truth of science: if a thing were therefore to befal in such a way, that the event of it is neither necessary nor certain; how can any one foresee that it is to happen? For as what we really do know is free from all uncertainty, so what is comprehended by science cannot be otherwise than as comprehended: hence... true science cannot err, because every thing must precisely be what her eye perceives it to be.
  • ৳ What then is the consequence..? How does God foreknow these uncertain contingencies? For if he thinks a thing will inevitably happen, which possibly may not, he is deceived; which one can neither believe, nor say of God, without blasphemy. But if he perceives that things will happen according to their casual circumstances; if he knows that they either may or may not take place; what sort of prescience is this, which comprehends nothing certain..? May it not be... compared with the ridiculous divination of Tiresias? Whatever I say, either shall or shall not be. In what... is the prescience of God superior to the opinion of men, if... he judges with uncertainty... the event... not fixed?
    • Footnote: Tiresias was a blind pirophet or soothsayer of Thebes. Boethius takes this ridiculous divination from Horace, who, to ridicule the foolish credulity of the Romans of his time, upon the article of divination, makes Tiresias reply to Ulysses, who was consulting him;
      O son of great Laertes! every thing
      Shall come to pass, or never, as I sing;
      For Phœbus, monarch of the tuneful Nine,
      Informs my soul, and gives me to divine.
  • ৳ But if there can be nothing uncertain in his knowledge, who is the source of all certainty... [A]ll things... he... foreknows must be fixed and inevitable. Whence... there can be no liberty... in... designs nor... actions of men; because the Divine mind... with an infallible foresight, constrains and binds them...
  • ৳ But if this be granted, how great is the confusion, how miserable... human affairs? For it would be to no purpose to propose rewards or punishments to... good or... bad, when both... are deprived of liberty, and when the will does not influence... actions. Rewards and punishments... now considered... reasonable and equitable, would... become very unjust; when... mankind are not prompted by... their wills to virtue and vice, but in... conduct compelled by a fatal necessity. If things were so constituted, there would be neither virtue nor vice; but such a preposterous mixture... as would produce... horrid and shocking confusion. Now, this is the most impious idea that can possibly enter into the human mind.
  • ৳ From such extravagant principles,—that man has not the freedom of choice,—and that every event is disposed and constrained by Divine prescience,—we are forced to conclude, that all our vices ought to be ascribed solely to God... the source of every virtue, and of all goodness. Supposing this... it will be of no use either to hope or to pray... for why... do either, when all... is irreversibly predestined? Hope and prayer, becoming... ineffectual, the only intercourse betwixt God and the human race is cut off: for as by offering up our supplications with due reverence and humility, we merit the inestimable reward of the Divine grace and counsel; so it is by means of prayer... that we... associate... with the Deity, and to unite... to that inaccessible light. But if a fixed irrevocable necessity... is admitted, prayer can have no effect; and what other way is there then left, wherewith we can be connected..? Man therefore... being... detached and disunited from the source of his existence, must sink into nothing.
  •    That God doth all events foresee—
    That every human aft is free—
    Are truths, when sep'rate, plain and clear;
    But join'd,—perplex'd and dark appear.

    Declare then, what discordant cause
    Puzzles and clouds perspicuous laws?
    Can things indisputably true
    Involve an inconsistence too?
    Who can the Gordian knot unloose,
    And this deep mystery disclose?

       The Heav'n-born mind, perhaps, you'll say,
    Encumber'd with this load of clay,
    Cannot perceive the secret ties
    Of things, and nice dependencies.

    Why does she then with ardour glow,
    Matters beyond her reach to know?
    Knows she the secret she would gain?
    Then Sure—She would not toil in vain.
    If, weak and blind, she knows it not,
    Why gropes she for she knows not what?
    None wish for what they never knew,
    Nor matters wholly hid pursue.—
    But grant,—that after search profound
    She finds it;—can she say 'tis found?
    Each mark unknown of what she sought,
    Dares she assert—the prize is got?

       The soul at first, then, shall we say,
    Illum'd with a celestial ray,
    From Wisdom's beaming source that springs,
    Knew all the secret chains of things:—
    But sent from Heav'n's pure light to dwell
    In this corporeal sluggish cell;
    Tho' clouds the intellectual bright
    O'ercast, and dim her native light.
    Clear marks of her celestial strain,
    And Heav'n-taught knowledge, still remain;
    Truth's outlines fair are still imprest
    Distinctly on the human breast;
    Tho' individuals are forgot,
    The sum of things unknown is not.

       In Science, then, who strive to grow,
    Studious reflect on what they know,
    And calm investigate again
    The truths their minds did once retain.

       Hence learn they to philosophize,
    And open Nature's mysteries.

  • This... is the old objection against Providence, so acutely handled by Cicero, in his Book of Divination, and so often anxiously enquired into by yourself; of which neither of you, nor any person... has been able to give a satisfying solution. The cause of this mystery is, that the human understanding cannot conceive the simplicity of the prescience of God; for if it were possible to comprehend this, every difficulty would immediately vanish. I shall therefore first consider the matters that give you uneasiness, and shall then try to explain and solve this perplexing question. I ask you then, Wherefore you do not approve the reasoning of such as think, "That prescience does not obstruct the liberty of the will, because it is not the necessitating cause of future events?" Do you draw any argument of the necessity of what shall happen in future, but from this proposition, "That those things which are foreseen must necessarily befal?" But if the prescience of God imposes no necessity upon events that are to befal... must not the issue of things be voluntary, and man's will free and unconstrained? To render the sequel of my reasoning the more perspicuous, let us suppose there is no prescience: Would then the events which proceed from free-will alone, and from no other source, be under the power of necessity?
  • ৳ No... by no means.
  • [L]et us admit a prescience... that... imposes no necessity upon what is to happen; the freedom of the will... would... remain uninfluenced and intire. But although prescience, you may say, is not the necessary cause of future events, yet it is a sign that they shall necessarily happen; and hence it follows, that, although there were no prescience, future events would still be bound in the chain of necessity. But here it ought to be considered, the sign of a thing is not really the thing itself, but that it only points out what the individual is. For which reason it must be first made appear, that every thing happens by necessity, before we can conclude that prescience is the sign of this necessity: for if there be no necessity, prescience cannot be the sign of that which does not exist. To prove that nothing happens but by necessity, the arguments for this purpose must not be drawn from signs, or foreign causes; but from causes intimately connected with, and belonging to this neccesity.
  • ৳ But how is it possible... that those things which are foreseen should not befal?
  • I do not say... that we are to entertain any doubt but the events will take place, which Providence foresees are to happen; but we are rather to believe, that although they do happen, yet that there is no necessity in the events themselves, which constrains them to do so. The truth of which I shall thus endeavour to illustrate. We behold many things done under our view, such as a coachman conducting his chariot and governing his horses, and other things of a like nature. Now, do you suppose these things are done by the compulsion of a necessity?
  • ৳ No... for if every thing were moved by compulsion, the effects of art would be vain and fruitless.
  • If things then which are doing under our eye... are under no present necessity of happening; it must be admitted that these same things, before they befel, were under no necessity of taking place. It is plain, therefore, that some things... [are] unconstrained by necessity. For I do not think any person will say that such things as are at present done, were not to happen before they were done. Why therefore may not things be foreseen, and not necessitated in their events? As the knowledge then of what is present imposes no necessity on things now done; so neither does the foreknowledge of what is to happen in future, necessitate the things which are to take place. But you may say, you hesitate with regard to this point; whether there can be any certain foreknowledge of things, of which the event is not necessitated? For here there seems to he an evident contradiction. If things are, foreseen, you may contend they are under a necessity of happening; but if their event is not necessary, they cannot possibly be foreseen, because prescience can foresee nothing but what is absolutely certain: and if things uncertain in their events are foreseen as certain, this prescience, you may maintain, is nothing more than a false opinion: for when we comprehend things differently from what they really are, we have but imperfect ideas of them, very remote from the truth of science. To this I would answer, that the cause of this mistake is, that men imagine that their knowledge is derived entirely from the nature of the things known; whereas it is quite the reverse; since things are not known from properties inherent in the object of knowledge, but by faculties residing in the perceiver.
  • To give you an example... the globular form of a body strikes the view in a different manner from what it does the touch: the eye, placed at a distance, darts its rays upon the object, and by beholding it, comprehends its form. On the contrary, the object cannot be distinguished by the touch, unless the hand is in contact with it, and feels it all around.
    • Footnote: Boethius here follows the opinion of the Stoicks, who imagined that vision was performed by the eye darting its rays upon the objects.
  • Man likewise is surveyed in different ways; by the senses, by the imagination, by reason, and by intelligence.
    • Footnote: By intelligence, we are here to understand,as is plain from what follows, the intelligence of the Deity.
  • The senses only perceive his material figure;——the imagination perceives the external figure alone, exclusive of the matter;——reason goes further, and examining existences in general, discovers the particular species of every individual;——'the eye of intelligence... rises higher... beyond the bounds of what is general... [and] surveys the simple forms themselves, by its own pure and proper light... [T]he higher power of perception includes the lower; but... the... [lower] can by no means attain to the energy of the... [higher]: for the senses cannot rise to the perception of any thing but matter, nor can the imagination comprehend existences in general; neither can reason conceive simple forms: whereas intelligence, looking down as it were from above, and having conceived the form, discerns all the things which are below it, and comprehends... what does not fall within the reach of the other faculties. For she comprehends existences in general, as conceived by reason, the figure that strikes the imagination, and the matter that falls under the cognizance of the senses, without making use either of reason, or the imagination, or the senses; but she comprehends them all formally, i.e. by beholding their simple forms... by one single effort of the mind.
  • In the same way, reason, when she considers a thing in general, apprehends both what is perceived by the imagination and the senses, without the assistance of either.
  • For instance, reason defines her general conception, thus, Man is a rational creature with two feet; which, though it be a general idea, yet every person knows that man, thus defined, is perceivable both by the imagination and the senses; notwithstanding that in this instance reason does not make use either of the imagination or the senses, but employs her own proper faculty of perception.
  • Thus the imagination, though at first she learned by the senses to distinguish and to form figures, acts afterwards by her own power, and brings all sensible objects to her view without the aid of the senses.
  • Do you not see, then, that men attain to the knowledge of things, more by their own faculties, than by the inherent properties of the things themselves? Nor is it unreasonable that it should be so; for as judgment is the act of the person judging, it is necessary that every person should perform his own work, by his own proper faculties, and not by the aid of foreign power.
  •    Fallacious and obscure the lore,
    By Stoick sages taught of yore:
    From outward objects they suppose
    A filmy substance ceaseless flows,
    Which strikes acute upon the sense,
    And that all knowledge issues thence.
    Hence, say they, Mind alone receives
    Every image it perceives;
    The paper, thus, a blank before,
    They add, is trac'd with letters o'er.

       If nothing to the mind is known
    By powers inherent of her own
    ,
    But passive, she th' impressions takes,
    Which every outward object makes;
    Reflecting like a mirror fair,
    All bodies that presented are;
    Say, whence deriv'd her power to pierce
    Thro' all th' extended Universe?

    To roam the world material o'er.
    And intellectual too explore;
    Whence does she arrange, compound,
    And sep'rate her ideal round?
    Why does she, by progression slow,
    From truth to truth ascending go?

    Why now to heav'n her way she wings.
    Now sinks absorb'd in grov'ling things?

       Such powers, so various and so strong,
    Must to the heav'n-born mind belong:
    They cannot, sure, existence owe
    To traces which from matter flow.

       But still, 'twixt matter and the mind
    We plainly a connexion find:
    Thus—light when flashing in the eye,
    Thus—thro' the ear when noises fly.
    Mind instantaneous running o'er,
    Of native ideas, her store,
    Th' according images unites,
    And blends with those which sense excites

       For each external form, we find,
    Its counterpart has in the mind.

  • Although there are in objects... qualities which strike... upon the senses, and put... [those] instruments in motion; although the passive impression upon the body precedes the action of the mind; although... the former rouses the latter... and awakens the forms which rest within; yet if the perception of objects flows not from an impression... upon the mind; but... [by] mind... capable... by its powers, of distinguishing this impression... how much more... beings, purely spiritual, discern things by their own light, by... understanding alone, without... necessity of... recourse to impressions made... by external objects.
  • For this reason... nature has varied the powers of knowledge... distributed to created beings. Thus, animals that have no motion, as fishes that are nourished in their shells and adhere to rocks, are endowed with sensation only, and have no other knowledge; whilst imagination is given to... brutes... capable of motion, and seem naturally to desire some things, and avoid others: but Reason is the attribute of man alone, as Intelligence is that of God. Hence... God's knowledge exceeds... all other beings; as it not only comprehends... his own nature, but what... is perceived by beings inferior...
  • What would you think, if the Senses and the Imagination should oppose Reason, and endeavour to persuade her that the general ideas... are nothing? for what falls under the cognizance of the senses and imagination, cannot be general. Perhaps you would say, either Reason judges true, that nothing is apprehended by sense; or, since she knows many things are perceived by the sense and by the imagination, she must judge falsely, when she considers as general that which is sensible and particular. But if Reason should answer to this, that in her idea of what is general, she comprehends clearly whatever is sensible and imaginable; but as to the senses and imagination, they cannot possibly attain to the knowledge of what is general, since their perception cannot reach beyond the material figures that strike them; and therefore, in all matters of science, the greatest credit is due to the judgment of that guide, whose powers are the most discerning and perfect. In a controversy of this kind, ought not we, who are possessed of the powers of reason, imagination, and sense, to enlist ourselves on the side of Reason, and to espouse her cause? The case is entirely similar, when human reason thinks the divine understanding cannot behold future events, in any other way than she herself is capable of perceiving them: for your reasoning... is... "That things... cannot be foreseen, unless their events are necessitated; therefore there can be no... prescience; for... every thing would be fixed by... absolute necessity." In answer... I... say, If it were possible for us... endowed only with reason, to become, possessed of the Divine Intelligence, we should then discover... that both sense and imagination should submit to reason... likewise... human reason should submit to an all-knowing Mind. Let us therefore strive to elevate ourselves to the exalted height of the Supreme Intelligence; there shall Reason behold what she cannot discover in herself... how things, which in themselves have no certain event, are... certainly foreseen by a clear and infallible prescience; and... that this is no conjecture or vague opinion, but a simple, supreme, and unlimited knowledge.
  •    Of varied creatures, mark th' unnumber'd store
    Wand'ring at will the wide creation o'er:
    Some drag along their lengths in speckled pride,
    And trace the dust in furrows as they glide;
    Some soaring mount the winds with daring wing.
    And thro' the fields of air exulting sing;
    Whilst others o'er the fruitful valley rove,
    Or seek the shadows of the sounding grove.

       Tho' varied brutal forms are endless found,
    Their looks dejected ever love the ground;
    This grov'ling posture stupefies the sense.
    And all their low propensions issue thence.
    Imperial man alone rears high his head.
    And spurns the sordid earth with stately tread:
    Admonish'd hence, if not by glaring toys
    Seduc'd, and sunk in Sense's baneful joys;
    Taught by his form erect, and lifted eye,
    Let man's aspiring thoughts still range on high;
    Thus—'twixt his aspect, and his tow'ring mind,
    We, pleas'd, a strict conformity shall find.

  • Since then every thing which is known is not, as I have before proved, perceived by its own inherent properties, but by virtue of powers residing in the person comprehending it; let us now examine, as far as it is possible for us, the disposition of the Divine Nature, that we may thence derive a clearer conception of the knowledge of God.
  • It is the sentiment of all reasonable creatures, that God is eternal. Let us then consider what eternity is; because this will discover... the nature of God, and of his knowledge.
  • Eternity then is a full and perfect possession of the whole of everlasting life, altogether and at once. Now this will evidently appear, by comparing it with things which endure only for a time: for every temporal existence glides on through the past to the present, and thence to the future; so that there is nothing under the laws of time, which can at once comprehend the whole extent of its duration. As it has lost yesterday, it does not as yet enjoy to-morrow; and as for to-day, it is plain you have no more of life than the present transitory moment. Whatever therefore be subjected to the flight of time, as Aristotle thought of the world, it may be without beginning and without end; and altho' its duration may extend to an infinity of time, it is not of such a nature as to be properly deemed eternal; because it does not comprehend at once the whole extent of its infinite duration, having no knowledge of things future...
  • Whatever comprehends and possesses at the same time, the fulness of an unlimited life; which catches hold of the future, and from which nothing that is past is escaped; that... alone, is truly eternal: for what is eternal must be in nothing defective; must enjoy itself; and must have the infinite succession of time clearly and perfectly under its perception.
  • [S]ome Philosophers, who... heard it was the sentiment of Plato, that this world never had a beginning, and should never have an end... falsely concluded, that the created universe was co-eternal with its Creator. But it is one thing to be conducted through a life of infinite duration, which was Plato's opinion... and another... to comprehend at once the whole extent of this duration as present, which is manifest... only... to the mind of the Deity.
  • [I]t is not so much by ...measure of time, that God appears ...prior ...and more ancient than his creatures, as by ...his nature ...altogether simple and undivided: for the infinite progression of temporal things aims at a resemblance of that ever-present ...immoveable life, which, as it is not capable ...of copying or equalling, from immobility it degenerates into motion; and, instead of becoming ...immoveable ...and simply present, it falls into an infinite measure of past and future time.
  • [S]ince it cannot possess at once the whole... of its duration; yet... never ceases... to exist, it strives... in vain to emulate that, whose perfection it can neither attain or express, by attaching itself to the presence of the fleeting moment, which passes away with rapidity: and because this fleeting presence bears a resemblance to the immoveable presence... it communicates... an appearance of existence: but as it cannot stop or abide, it pursues its course through unlimited time; and hence... by gliding... it continues its duration, the extent and plenitude of which it could not comprehend by resting in a permanent state.
  • Since then every being judges of the things that are the objects of its understanding, according to the faculties of judgment which it possesses; and as God is in a state immoveable, and eternally present to every thing, his knowledge soars above the progression of time, brings together the past and the future, though at infinite intervals, and comprehends, in his capacious intellect, all things, as if they were now transacting.
  • If therefore you would properly define this prescience which gives to God the cognisance of every thing, it must not be considered as an anticipated knowledge of the future, but... more justly... esteemed a knowledge of the never-failing now.
  • Hence, the word prescience, or foreknowledge, is not so applicable to the Divine Intelligence, as the word providence, or superintendence; for the exalted and sovereign Ruler looks down as it were from the summit of his universe, and beholds every thing moving in obedience to his infinitely wise direction.
  • But can you imagine that God imposes a necessity upon events by beholding them, when men, by seeing things, do not make them necessary? for you before acknowledged to me, that your viewing an action happening under your eye, lays no necessity upon it. If we then may be allowed to compare the knowledge of man with that of God, it is plain, that whilst you see only some things in a limited instant, God sees every thing present to him at once, in an unlimited eternity. His Divine foresight does not therefore change the nature and properties of things; but they are present to his view in the very order as they shall in time befal: nor does he judge confusedly of them, but distinguishes with precision the events which will necessarily happen, from those which will take place unconstrained by necessity.
  • When you see... a man walking... and the sun rising... although you see both... at once... you plainly perceive... the former is voluntary, whilst... the latter is necessary. Thus the eye of Providence contemplates all things, without altering their nature and properties; for every thing... is present to him; though, with regard to its temporal event, it may be still future. Hence it follows, that when God knows a thing will be, although... he perceives it is under no necessity of being, we must nevertheless allow, that this knowledge is not an uncertain conjecture, but... founded upon truth.
  • If you still insist, that what God foresees will befal, must befal; and that things which cannot do otherwise than happen, must necessarily happen (if in this way you force me to admit a necessity, it must be acknowledged, it is unquestionably true that things are under such a constraint; but this is at the same time a truth which can scarce be comprehended by any man, unless he, is acquainted with the Divine counsels).
  • But, in answer to the above objection, that what God foreknows will take place, must come to pass; I would hive you to consider, that every thing which happens, as it bears a relation to the Divine knowledge, is necessary; but when considered in its own nature, it is altogether free and unconstrained: for there are two kinds of necessity; the one simple and absolute, as, men must necessarily die; the other conditional, as, if you know that a man walks, he must certainly do so: for that which is known cannot be otherwise than it is apprehended to be. But this circumstance or condition does by no means infer the other absolute necessity: for the nature of the thing itself does not here constitute the necessity, but the necessity arises from the conjunction of the condition. Thus, no necessity compels a man to walk, who voluntarily steps forward; yet when he steps forward, he must of necessity walk: so every thing which is present to the eye of Providence must assuredly be, although there be nothing in its own nature to constitute this necessity. Since Deity then beholds all future events, proceeding from the freedom of the will, as actually present; these events by that condition become necessary, in relation to the Divine apprehension; although, when considered in their own nature, they be at absolute liberty.
  • All things therefore which God by his prescience knows will happen, shall undoubtedly come to pass; but as many of these events proceed from free-will, which, although they do befal, yet their existence changes not their nature, as, before they happened, they had it in their power not to happen.
  • ৳ But it is a matter of no moment, whether things in their own nature are necessary or not, since, by this circumstance of the Divine knowledge, to which they are all subject, they fall out in every respect as if they were constrained by necessity.
  • This... is explained, in the instance... of the sun rising, and a man walking. Now as you see both of these occurrences happen under your view, they assuredly do happen; but nevertheless there is this difference, that the event of the former was necessary before it befel, whereas that of the latter was altogether free. Thus, all things which are present to the view of the Deity unquestionably exist; but some of them proceed from a necessity belonging to their own natures, as in the instance of the rising sun; while others flow from the will and power of the agent, as in the other example. It is then with reason we have asserted, that in respect of the Divine apprehension, things are necessary; but that they are absolutely free from the chains of Fate, when considered in themselves. In the same way, every thing which is an object of sense, is general in regard to its relation with reason, but particular when considered by itself.
  • But you may say, If it be in my power to change my purpose, I can deceive Providence, since I may not carry into execution those things which she foresaw I would do. To this I answer. It is indeed in your power to deviate from your purpose; but as Providence sees really and actually what you can do; since she knows whether you will alter your resolutions or not, and upon what resolution you will fix; it is as impossible for you to deceive the prescience of God, as it would be to escape the notice of a present and steady observer of your actions; though, from the freedom of your will, you have it in your power to vary and diversify them ever so much.
  • What!—shall the Divine knowledge, will you farther say, be changed according to my dispositions; and when my desires vary and fluctuate, fixing now upon this thing, now upon that, will the apprehension of the Deity vary with them? No, certainly, it will not. For the view of Deity, if I may speak, out-runs every future event, and brings it back into the presence of his own apprehension; which does not vary, as you imagine, to conform itself to your caprices, but remains immoveable, and anticipates and comprehends at once all your variety of changes: which faculty of comprehending and seeing all things as present, God doth not derive from the issue of future events, but from the simplicity of his own nature.
  • Here then is a solution of what you objected to me formerly, that it is a preposterous thing to say, that our temporal events are the causes of the Divine prescience: for the quality of the Sovereign Mind is such, that every thing is subordinate to the eternal presence of his knowledge; that he plans and directs all events, without being in the least dependent upon futurity.
  • Upon the whole then it must be concluded, the freedom of the human will remains unconstrained and inviolable; and that those laws cannot be considered as unjust, which assign rewards and punishments to men, whose actions are in no respect under the compulsion of necessity. We ought therefore to comfort ourselves with this reflection, that God, who sits on high, perceives every thing, knows perfectly what is to happen; and that the eternal presence of his knowledge, concurring with the future quality of our actions, engages him always to dispense rewards to the good, and punishments to the wicked.
  • The confidence which, for this reason, we repose in God, cannot be vain or fruitless; neither will the prayers we address to him be inefficacious, when they proceed from a heart which is pure and upright. Detest, then, and flee every vice; cultivate and pursue every virtue; exalt your mind to God, the only true hope; and offer up your prayers with humility to his throne. If you are ingenuous, you must confess the strict obligation that you are under, to live agreeably to the rules of wisdom and probity, as you know that all your actions are performed under the eye of an all-discerning Judge.
    FINIS.

About Consolation

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Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy (1785)

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Philip Ridpath's Life of Boethius & Dedication in his translation. A Source.
  • Boethius's eloquent Treatise of The Consolation of Philosophy... has been translated into most of the languages of Europe, and into the Saxon and our own by two of our most illustrious Princes, Alfred and Elizabeth. There is something congenial in great and noble minds, and what appeared interesting to them, cannot be indifferent to you. Length of time, and the mutability of language, have deprived us of the fruits of their leisure. The present version of this beautiful and philosophical Dialogue has cost me much pains and labour.
    • Dedication to Henry Dundas, Treasurer of the Navy, Keeper of the Signet, Dean of the Faculty of Advocates in Scotland, and one of His Majesty's most honourable privy council.
  • Though confined in a doleful prison, and deserted by all the world—though deprived of his library, and stript of all his possessions—our illustrious Philosopher preserved so much vigour and composure of mind, that he wrote, in five books, his excellent treatise of the Consolation of Philosophy. To this treatise our author is more indebted for his fame, than to all his other learned performances.
  • Few books have been more popular: it has gone through a multitude of editions; has been commented upon by many eminent men; has been translated into a great variety of languages; and has been universally acknowledged a work replete with erudition and instruction, and executed with much delicacy and good taste. When we consider the distressed situation of our author when he wrote it, we are filled with wonder that he was capable of composing a performance of so much real genius and merit.

The Consolation of Philosophy of Boethius (1897)

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Henry Rosher James' Preface and Proem to his translation. A Source.
  • 'The Consolation of Philosophy' was throughout the Middle Ages, and... to the beginnings of the modern epoch in the sixteenth century, the scholar's familiar companion.
  • Few books have exercised a wider influence in their time. It has been translated into every European tongue, and into English nearly a dozen times, from King Alfred's paraphrase to the translations of Lord Preston, Causton, [Philip] Ridpath [1785], and [Edmund] Duncan [1779], in the eighteenth century.
  • The belief that what once pleased so widely must still have some charm is my excuse for attempting the present translation.
  • The great work of Boethius, with its alternate prose and verse, skilfully fitted together like dialogue and chorus in a Greek play, is unique in literature, and has a pathetic interest from the time and circumstances of its composition. It ought not to be forgotten. Those who can go to the original will find their reward. There may be room also for a new translation in English after an interval of close on a hundred years.
  • The text used is that of Peiper, Leipsic, 1874.
  • [I]n the year 522 A.D... his two sons, young as they were... were created joint Consuls and rode to the senate-house attended by a throng of senators, and the acclamations of the multitude. Boethius... delivered the public speech in the King's honour... Within a year he was a solitary prisoner at Pavia, stripped of honours, wealth, and friends, with death hanging over him, and a terror worse than death, in the fear lest those dearest to him should be involved in the worst results of his downfall. It is in this situation that... 'Consolation of Philosophy' brings Boethius before us... as seated in his prison distraught.., indignant at the injustice of his misfortunes, and seeking relief for his melancholy in writing verses... Suddenly there appears... the Divine figure of Philosophy, in the guise of a woman of superhuman dignity and beauty, who... convinces him of the vanity of regret for the lost... fortune, raises his mind... to the contemplation of the true good, and makes clear... the mystery of the world's moral government.
    • Proem

Boethius (1902)

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Edward Kennard Rand's Note on the Text & Introduction, The theological tractates... & The consolation of philosophy (1902) A Source.
  • Consolation... Peiper's edition (Teubner, 1871)... in the case of the Tegernseensis... are generally accurate and complete. ...I have ...followed ...usually, the opinions of Engelbrecht in his admirable article, Die Consolatio Philosophiae des Boethius in the Sitzungsberichte of the Vienna Academy, cxliv. (1902) 1-60. ...The history of the text of the Opuscula Sacra... is intimately connected with that of the Consolatio.
    • Note on the Text
  • Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius, of the famous Praenestine family of the Anicii, was born about 480 A.D. in Rome. His father was an ex-consul... His public career was splendid and honourable.... But he fell under the displeasure of Theodoric, and was charged with conspiring to deliver Rome from his rule, and with corresponding treasonably to this end with Justin, Emperor of the East. He was thrown into prison at Pavia, where he wrote the Consolation of Philosophy, and he was brutally put to death in 524. His... life was marked by great literary achievement. His learning was vast, his industry untiring, his object unattainable... the transmission... of all the works of Plato and Aristotle, and the reconciliation of their apparently divergent views.
    Boethius was the last of the Roman philosophers, and the first of the scholastic theologians.
  • The Consolation of Philosophy is... as Gibbon called it, "a golden volume, not unworthy of the leisure of Plato or of Tully." To belittle its originality and sincerity, as is sometimes done, with a view to saving the Christianity of the writer, is to misunderstand his mind and his method. The Consolatio is not... a mere patchwork of translations from Aristotle and the Neoplatonists. Rather it is the supreme essay of one who throughout his life had found his highest solace in the dry light of reason. His chief source of refreshment, in the dungeon... was a memory well stocked with the poetry and thought... The development of the argument is anything but Neoplatonic; it is... his own.
  • If it is asked why the Consolation of Philosophy contains no conscious or direct reference to the doctrines... in the Tractates... and is, at most, not out of harmony with Christianity, the answer is simple. In the Consolation he is writing philosophy; in the Tractates he is writing theology. He observes what Pascal calls the orders of things. Philosophy belongs to one order, theology to another. They have different objects. The object of philosophy is to understand and explain the nature of the world around us; the object of theology is to understand explain doctrines delivered by divine revelation. The scholastics recognized the distinction, and the corresponding difference in the function of Faith and Reason.

See also

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Wikipedia
Wikipedia