feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/novelguide/Consolation of Philosophy/section_2_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: Consolation of Philosophy.book ii
feat_summary_id: book ii
feat_summary: {"name": "Summary of Book II Part I-III", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210212221439/https://www.novelguide.com/consolation-of-philosophy/summaries/book2-parti-iii", "summary": "of Part I       Philosophy speaks to Boethius explaining he is pining away for his former good fortune, and his imagination has distorted his mind with longing for what he lost. Philosophy knows the many guises of Fortune and how she seduces people with friendship and then overwhelms them with grief when she deserts them. Fortune was not his true friend. He is wrong if he thinks Fortune has changed towards him, because change is Fortune's normal behavior. Fortune is a \"random goddess\" . She is unreliable and dangerous and gives false happiness. The kind of happiness that passes away is not true happiness. Once you enter Fortune's playground, you must bear with patience whatever she gives you, like a farmer who has to bear good years and bad years with his crop.", "analysis": "Commentary on Part I       Philosophy begins her cure by helping Boethius understand the true nature of Fortune, a random goddess, who gives and takes away at her whim. She is never a true friend and completely unreliable. Philosophy speaks of Fortune's Wheel, always turning and turning. When a man is on top, he is happy. When the wheel turns, and a man is on the bottom, he is miserable: \"Such is the game she plays\" . She has a heart of steel and laughs even at kings. She does not respond to the misery of men. Humans cannot keep the wheel from turning. It is a wheel of chance. This description of Fortune became famous in the medieval writers influenced by Boethius. His own life was a perfect example of the cruel game of Fortune. He was a patrician in Rome, of ancient and royal family, who also happened to be a virtuous and scholarly man, hoping to benefit humanity with his wisdom and learning. He had a good wife, two sons who were Roman consuls; he had wealth and fame and a comfortable home. He was still young enough  to have his health. He had produced voluminous translations of precious Greek texts, preserving them for future generations. Without warning or just cause, he was thrown into prison and executed on the pretext he had committed some treason. How can Boethius think of Fortune as a friend or pine after her gifts? It is a game that cannot be won by humans. Summary of Part II       Philosophy now plays the part of Fortune, speaking in Fortune's voice to show humans how they misunderstand her. Fortune argues that she has not stolen any gifts from Boethius because none of them belonged to him in the first place, nor to any humans. He came naked from the womb, and Fortune fed him from her own resources. She was indulgent, and when she withdrew her hand, he cried out as though she had stolen something from him. Everything else in creation is allowed to be itself. All Fortune's gifts come and go with her. Are humans so greedy that they demand Fortune to be constant, when inconstancy is her nature? Fortune gives examples of humans who fell from her wheel. Croesus, king of Lydia, went from wealth to misery. Perses, the last king of Macedonia, was also a tragic figure. Tragedy is a literary form that acknowledges these reversals of Fortune. Commentary on Part II       Philosophy in Fortune's voice reminds Boethius of the story in Homer about the two jars in God's house, one full of evil and one full of good. Boethius has had more than his share of the good, and now it is time to taste the bad. Fortune's very changefulness should give him hope, because nothing stays the same. She sings a song about the greed of humans, always wanting more, never satisfied, no matter how much they get. They will always complain. Summary of Part III       Now Philosophy invites Boethius to reply. He says her words are sweet but do not help the mind weighed down by \"deep seated melancholy\" . Philosophy counters that Boethius has forgotten his many blessings as \"the luckiest man in the world\" , adopted by Symmachus, married to a modest wife, having two sons and worldly honors. The culmination of his fortune, however, was the day his two sons became consuls together, and the senators appreciated the glorious oratory of Boethius on this honor. This is the only time Fortune has been unfriendly to him. The things he moans about are passing away, that is all. He knows there is no permanence. Commentary on Part III       Philosophy speaking for the goddess Fortune tries to explain to Boethius that it makes no difference whether Fortune deserts him at some point, or that he deserts her by dying. These honors and gifts are never permanent. She sings a song about the instability of the world: \"In law eternal it lies decreed/ That naught from change is ever freed\" . He has been one of the lucky ones in life, but he cannot expect to be exempt from change, when it is the whole way Nature functions in different cycles; in spring, winter, storm, and calm. Book II of Part I Philosophy speaks to Boethius explaining he is pining away for his former good fortune, and his imagination has distorted his mind with longing for what he lost. Philosophy knows the many guises of Fortune and how she seduces people with friendship and then overwhelms them with grief when she deserts them. Fortune was not his true friend. He is wrong if he thinks Fortune has changed towards him, because change is Fortune's normal behavior. Fortune is a \"random goddess\" . She is unreliable and dangerous and gives false happiness. The kind of happiness that passes away is not true happiness. Once you enter Fortune's playground, you must bear with patience whatever she gives you, like a farmer who has to bear good years and bad years with his crop. Commentary on Part I Commentary on Part I Philosophy begins her cure by helping Boethius understand the true nature of Fortune, a random goddess, who gives and takes away at her whim. She is never a true friend and completely unreliable. Philosophy speaks of Fortune's Wheel, always turning and turning. When a man is on top, he is happy. When the wheel turns, and a man is on the bottom, he is miserable: \"Such is the game she plays\" . She has a heart of steel and laughs even at kings. She does not respond to the misery of men. Humans cannot keep the wheel from turning. It is a wheel of chance. This description of Fortune became famous in the medieval writers influenced by Boethius. His own life was a perfect example of the cruel game of Fortune. He was a patrician in Rome, of ancient and royal family, who also happened to be a virtuous and scholarly man, hoping to benefit humanity with his wisdom and learning. He had a good wife, two sons who were Roman consuls; he had wealth and fame and a comfortable home. He was still young enough to have his health. He had produced voluminous translations of precious Greek texts, preserving them for future generations. Without warning or just cause, he was thrown into prison and executed on the pretext he had committed some treason. How can Boethius think of Fortune as a friend or pine after her gifts? It is a game that cannot be won by humans. of Part II Philosophy now plays the part of Fortune, speaking in Fortune's voice to show humans how they misunderstand her. Fortune argues that she has not stolen any gifts from Boethius because none of them belonged to him in the first place, nor to any humans. He came naked from the womb, and Fortune fed him from her own resources. She was indulgent, and when she withdrew her hand, he cried out as though she had stolen something from him. Everything else in creation is allowed to be itself. All Fortune's gifts come and go with her. Are humans so greedy that they demand Fortune to be constant, when inconstancy is her nature? Fortune gives examples of humans who fell from her wheel. Croesus, king of Lydia, went from wealth to misery. Perses, the last king of Macedonia, was also a tragic figure. Tragedy is a literary form that acknowledges these reversals of Fortune. Commentary on Part II Commentary on Part II Philosophy in Fortune's voice reminds Boethius of the story in Homer about the two jars in God's house, one full of evil and one full of good. Boethius has had more than his share of the good, and now it is time to taste the bad. Fortune's very changefulness should give him hope, because nothing stays the same. She sings a song about the greed of humans, always wanting more, never satisfied, no matter how much they get. They will always complain. of Part III Now Philosophy invites Boethius to reply. He says her words are sweet but do not help the mind weighed down by \"deep seated melancholy\" . Philosophy counters that Boethius has forgotten his many blessings as \"the luckiest man in the world\" , adopted by Symmachus, married to a modest wife, having two sons and worldly honors. The culmination of his fortune, however, was the day his two sons became consuls together, and the senators appreciated the glorious oratory of Boethius on this honor. This is the only time Fortune has been unfriendly to him. The things he moans about are passing away, that is all. He knows there is no permanence. Commentary on Part III Commentary on Part III Philosophy speaking for the goddess Fortune tries to explain to Boethius that it makes no difference whether Fortune deserts him at some point, or that he deserts her by dying. These honors and gifts are never permanent. She sings a song about the instability of the world: \"In law eternal it lies decreed/ That naught from change is ever freed\" . He has been one of the lucky ones in life, but he cannot expect to be exempt from change, when it is the whole way Nature functions in different cycles; in spring, winter, storm, and calm. Novel Author Boethius Novel Author Boethius"}
text: <CHAPTER>
  BOOK II. I.
  
  
  Thereafter for awhile she remained silent; and when she had restored my
  flagging attention by a moderate pause in her discourse, she thus began:
  'If I have thoroughly ascertained the character and causes of thy
  sickness, thou art pining with regretful longing for thy former fortune.
  It is the change, as thou deemest, of this fortune that hath so wrought
  upon thy mind. Well do I understand that Siren's manifold wiles, the
  fatal charm of the friendship she pretends for her victims, so long as
  she is scheming to entrap them--how she unexpectedly abandons them and
  leaves them overwhelmed with insupportable grief. Bethink thee of her
  nature, character, and deserts, and thou wilt soon acknowledge that in
  her thou hast neither possessed, nor hast thou lost, aught of any worth.
  Methinks I need not spend much pains in bringing this to thy mind,
  since, even when she was still with thee, even while she was caressing
  thee, thou usedst to assail her in manly terms, to rebuke her, with
  maxims drawn from my holy treasure-house. But all sudden changes of
  circumstances bring inevitably a certain commotion of spirit. Thus it
  hath come to pass that thou also for awhile hast been parted from thy
  mind's tranquillity. But it is time for thee to take and drain a
  draught, soft and pleasant to the taste, which, as it penetrates within,
  may prepare the way for stronger potions. Wherefore I call to my aid the
  sweet persuasiveness of Rhetoric, who then only walketh in the right way
  when she forsakes not my instructions, and Music, my handmaid, I bid to
  join with her singing, now in lighter, now in graver strain.
  
  'What is it, then, poor mortal, that hath cast thee into lamentation and
  mourning? Some strange, unwonted sight, methinks, have thine eyes seen.
  Thou deemest Fortune to have changed towards thee; thou mistakest. Such
  ever were her ways, ever such her nature. Rather in her very mutability
  hath she preserved towards thee her true constancy. Such was she when
  she loaded thee with caresses, when she deluded thee with the
  allurements of a false happiness. Thou hast found out how changeful is
  the face of the blind goddess. She who still veils herself from others
  hath fully discovered to thee her whole character. If thou likest her,
  take her as she is, and do not complain. If thou abhorrest her perfidy,
  turn from her in disdain, renounce her, for baneful are her delusions.
  The very thing which is now the cause of thy great grief ought to have
  brought thee tranquillity. Thou hast been forsaken by one of whom no one
  can be sure that she will not forsake him. Or dost thou indeed set value
  on a happiness that is certain to depart? Again I ask, Is Fortune's
  presence dear to thee if she cannot be trusted to stay, and though she
  will bring sorrow when she is gone? Why, if she cannot be kept at
  pleasure, and if her flight overwhelms with calamity, what is this
  fleeting visitant but a token of coming trouble? Truly it is not enough
  to look only at what lies before the eyes; wisdom gauges the issues of
  things, and this same mutability, with its two aspects, makes the
  threats of Fortune void of terror, and her caresses little to be
  desired. Finally, thou oughtest to bear with whatever takes place within
  the boundaries of Fortune's demesne, when thou hast placed thy head
  beneath her yoke. But if thou wishest to impose a law of staying and
  departing on her whom thou hast of thine own accord chosen for thy
  mistress, art thou not acting wrongfully, art thou not embittering by
  impatience a lot which thou canst not alter? Didst thou commit thy sails
  to the winds, thou wouldst voyage not whither thy intention was to go,
  but whither the winds drave thee; didst thou entrust thy seed to the
  fields, thou wouldst set off the fruitful years against the barren. Thou
  hast resigned thyself to the sway of Fortune; thou must submit to thy
  mistress's caprices. What! art thou verily striving to stay the swing
  of the revolving wheel? Oh, stupidest of mortals, if it takes to
  standing still, it ceases to be the wheel of Fortune.'
  
  
  
  SONG I. FORTUNE'S MALICE.
  
  
      Mad Fortune sweeps along in wanton pride,
      Uncertain as Euripus' surging tide;
      Now tramples mighty kings beneath her feet;
      Now sets the conquered in the victor's seat.
      She heedeth not the wail of hapless woe,
      But mocks the griefs that from her mischief flow.
      Such is her sport; so proveth she her power;
      And great the marvel, when in one brief hour
      She shows her darling lifted high in bliss,
      Then headlong plunged in misery's abyss.
  
  
  
  II.
  
  
  'Now I would fain also reason with thee a little in Fortune's own words.
  Do thou observe whether her contentions be just. "Man," she might say,
  "why dost thou pursue me with thy daily complainings? What wrong have I
  done thee? What goods of thine have I taken from thee? Choose an thou
  wilt a judge, and let us dispute before him concerning the rightful
  ownership of wealth and rank. If thou succeedest in showing that any one
  of these things is the true property of mortal man, I freely grant those
  things to be thine which thou claimest. When nature brought thee forth
  out of thy mother's womb, I took thee, naked and destitute as thou wast,
  I cherished thee with my substance, and, in the partiality of my favour
  for thee, I brought thee up somewhat too indulgently, and this it is
  which now makes thee rebellious against me. I surrounded thee with a
  royal abundance of all those things that are in my power. Now it is my
  pleasure to draw back my hand. Thou hast reason to thank me for the use
  of what was not thine own; thou hast no right to complain, as if thou
  hadst lost what was wholly thine. Why, then, dost bemoan thyself? I have
  done thee no violence. Wealth, honour, and all such things are placed
  under my control. My handmaidens know their mistress; with me they come,
  and at my going they depart. I might boldly affirm that if those things
  the loss of which thou lamentest had been thine, thou couldst never have
  lost them. Am I alone to be forbidden to do what I will with my own?
  Unrebuked, the skies now reveal the brightness of day, now shroud the
  daylight in the darkness of night; the year may now engarland the face
  of the earth with flowers and fruits, now disfigure it with storms and
  cold. The sea is permitted to invite with smooth and tranquil surface
  to-day, to-morrow to roughen with wave and storm. Shall man's insatiate
  greed bind _me_ to a constancy foreign to my character? This is my art,
  this the game I never cease to play. I turn the wheel that spins. I
  delight to see the high come down and the low ascend. Mount up, if thou
  wilt, but only on condition that thou wilt not think it a hardship to
  come down when the rules of my game require it. Wert thou ignorant of my
  character? Didst not know how Croesus, King of the Lydians, erstwhile
  the dreaded rival of Cyrus, was afterwards pitiably consigned to the
  flame of the pyre, and only saved by a shower sent from heaven? Has it
  'scaped thee how Paullus paid a meed of pious tears to the misfortunes
  of King Perseus, his prisoner? What else do tragedies make such woeful
  outcry over save the overthrow of kingdoms by the indiscriminate strokes
  of Fortune? Didst thou not learn in thy childhood how there stand at the
  threshold of Zeus 'two jars,' 'the one full of blessings, the other of
  calamities'? How if thou hast drawn over-liberally from the good jar?
  What if not even now have I departed wholly from thee? What if this very
  mutability of mine is a just ground for hoping better things? But listen
  now, and cease to let thy heart consume away with fretfulness, nor
  expect to live on thine own terms in a realm that is common to all.'
  
  
  
  SONG II. MAN'S COVETOUSNESS.
  
  
      What though Plenty pour her gifts
        With a lavish hand,
      Numberless as are the stars,
        Countless as the sand,
      Will the race of man, content,
      Cease to murmur and lament?
  
      Nay, though God, all-bounteous, give
        Gold at man's desire--
      Honours, rank, and fame--content
        Not a whit is nigher;
      But an all-devouring greed
      Yawns with ever-widening need.
  
      Then what bounds can e'er restrain
        This wild lust of having,
      When with each new bounty fed
        Grows the frantic craving?
      He is never rich whose fear
      Sees grim Want forever near.
  
  
  
  III.
  
  
  'If Fortune should plead thus against thee, assuredly thou wouldst not
  have one word to offer in reply; or, if thou canst find any
  justification of thy complainings, thou must show what it is. I will
  give thee space to speak.'
  
  Then said I: 'Verily, thy pleas are plausible--yea, steeped in the
  honeyed sweetness of music and rhetoric. But their charm lasts only
  while they are sounding in the ear; the sense of his misfortunes lies
  deeper in the heart of the wretched. So, when the sound ceases to
  vibrate upon the air, the heart's indwelling sorrow is felt with renewed
  bitterness.'
  
  Then said she: 'It is indeed as thou sayest, for we have not yet come to
  the curing of thy sickness; as yet these are but lenitives conducing to
  the treatment of a malady hitherto obstinate. The remedies which go deep
  I will apply in due season. Nevertheless, to deprecate thy
  determination to be thought wretched, I ask thee, Hast thou forgotten
  the extent and bounds of thy felicity? I say nothing of how, when
  orphaned and desolate, thou wast taken into the care of illustrious men;
  how thou wast chosen for alliance with the highest in the state--and
  even before thou wert bound to their house by marriage, wert already
  dear to their love--which is the most precious of all ties. Did not all
  pronounce thee most happy in the virtues of thy wife, the splendid
  honours of her father, and the blessing of male issue? I pass over--for
  I care not to speak of blessings in which others also have shared--the
  distinctions often denied to age which thou enjoyedst in thy youth. I
  choose rather to come to the unparalleled culmination of thy good
  fortune. If the fruition of any earthly success has weight in the scale
  of happiness, can the memory of that splendour be swept away by any
  rising flood of troubles? That day when thou didst see thy two sons ride
  forth from home joint consuls, followed by a train of senators, and
  welcomed by the good-will of the people; when these two sat in curule
  chairs in the Senate-house, and thou by thy panegyric on the king didst
  earn the fame of eloquence and ability; when in the Circus, seated
  between the two consuls, thou didst glut the multitude thronging around
  with the triumphal largesses for which they looked--methinks thou didst
  cozen Fortune while she caressed thee, and made thee her darling. Thou
  didst bear off a boon which she had never before granted to any private
  person. Art thou, then, minded to cast up a reckoning with Fortune? Now
  for the first time she has turned a jealous glance upon thee. If thou
  compare the extent and bounds of thy blessings and misfortunes, thou
  canst not deny that thou art still fortunate. Or if thou esteem not
  thyself favoured by Fortune in that thy then seeming prosperity hath
  departed, deem not thyself wretched, since what thou now believest to be
  calamitous passeth also. What! art thou but now come suddenly and a
  stranger to the scene of this life? Thinkest thou there is any stability
  in human affairs, when man himself vanishes away in the swift course of
  time? It is true that there is little trust that the gifts of chance
  will abide; yet the last day of life is in a manner the death of all
  remaining Fortune. What difference, then, thinkest thou, is there,
  whether thou leavest her by dying, or she leave thee by fleeing away?'
  
  
  
  SONG III. ALL PASSES.
  
  
      When, in rosy chariot drawn,
      Phoebus 'gins to light the dawn,
      By his flaming beams assailed,
      Every glimmering star is paled.
      When the grove, by Zephyrs fed,
      With rose-blossom blushes red;--
      Doth rude Auster breathe thereon,
      Bare it stands, its glory gone.
      Smooth and tranquil lies the deep
      While the winds are hushed in sleep.
      Soon, when angry tempests lash,
      Wild and high the billows dash.
      Thus if Nature's changing face
      Holds not still a moment's space,
      Fleeting deem man's fortunes; deem
      Bliss as transient as a dream.
      One law only standeth fast:
      Things created may not last.
  
  
  
  IV.
  
  
  Then said I: 'True are thine admonishings, thou nurse of all excellence;
  nor can I deny the wonder of my fortune's swift career. Yet it is this
  which chafes me the more cruelly in the recalling. For truly in adverse
  fortune the worst sting of misery is to _have been_ happy.'
  
  'Well,' said she, 'if thou art paying the penalty of a mistaken belief,
  thou canst not rightly impute the fault to circumstances. If it is the
  felicity which Fortune gives that moves thee--mere name though it
  be--come reckon up with me how rich thou art in the number and
  weightiness of thy blessings. Then if, by the blessing of Providence,
  thou hast still preserved unto thee safe and inviolate that which,
  howsoever thou mightest reckon thy fortune, thou wouldst have thought
  thy most precious possession, what right hast thou to talk of
  ill-fortune whilst keeping all Fortune's better gifts? Yet Symmachus,
  thy wife's father--a man whose splendid character does honour to the
  human race--is safe and unharmed; and while he bewails thy wrongs, this
  rare nature, in whom wisdom and virtue are so nobly blended, is himself
  out of danger--a boon thou wouldst have been quick to purchase at the
  price of life itself. Thy wife yet lives, with her gentle disposition,
  her peerless modesty and virtue--this the epitome of all her graces,
  that she is the true daughter of her sire--she lives, I say, and for thy
  sake only preserves the breath of life, though she loathes it, and pines
  away in grief and tears for thy absence, wherein, if in naught else, I
  would allow some marring of thy felicity. What shall I say of thy sons
  and their consular dignity--how in them, so far as may be in youths of
  their age, the example of their father's and grandfather's character
  shines out? Since, then, the chief care of mortal man is to preserve his
  life, how happy art thou, couldst thou but recognise thy blessings, who
  possessest even now what no one doubts to be dearer than life!
  Wherefore, now dry thy tears. Fortune's hate hath not involved all thy
  dear ones; the stress of the storm that has assailed thee is not beyond
  measure intolerable, since there are anchors still holding firm which
  suffer thee not to lack either consolation in the present or hope for
  the future.'
  
  'I pray that they still may hold. For while they still remain, however
  things may go, I shall ride out the storm. Yet thou seest how much is
  shorn of the splendour of my fortunes.'
  
  'We are gaining a little ground,' said she, 'if there is something in
  thy lot wherewith thou art not yet altogether discontented. But I cannot
  stomach thy daintiness when thou complainest with such violence of grief
  and anxiety because thy happiness falls short of completeness. Why, who
  enjoys such settled felicity as not to have some quarrel with the
  circumstances of his lot? A troublous matter are the conditions of human
  bliss; either they are never realized in full, or never stay
  permanently. One has abundant riches, but is shamed by his ignoble
  birth. Another is conspicuous for his nobility, but through the
  embarrassments of poverty would prefer to be obscure. A third, richly
  endowed with both, laments the loneliness of an unwedded life. Another,
  though happily married, is doomed to childlessness, and nurses his
  wealth for a stranger to inherit. Yet another, blest with children,
  mournfully bewails the misdeeds of son or daughter. Wherefore, it is not
  easy for anyone to be at perfect peace with the circumstances of his
  lot. There lurks in each several portion something which they who
  experience it not know nothing of, but which makes the sufferer wince.
  Besides, the more favoured a man is by Fortune, the more fastidiously
  sensitive is he; and, unless all things answer to his whim, he is
  overwhelmed by the most trifling misfortunes, because utterly unschooled
  in adversity. So petty are the trifles which rob the most fortunate of
  perfect happiness! How many are there, dost thou imagine, who would
  think themselves nigh heaven, if but a small portion from the wreck of
  thy fortune should fall to them? This very place which thou callest
  exile is to them that dwell therein their native land. So true is it
  that nothing is wretched, but thinking makes it so, and conversely every
  lot is happy if borne with equanimity. Who is so blest by Fortune as not
  to wish to change his state, if once he gives rein to a rebellious
  spirit? With how many bitternesses is the sweetness of human felicity
  blent! And even if that sweetness seem to him to bring delight in the
  enjoying, yet he cannot keep it from departing when it will. How
  manifestly wretched, then, is the bliss of earthly fortune, which lasts
  not for ever with those whose temper is equable, and can give no perfect
  satisfaction to the anxious-minded!
  
  'Why, then, ye children of mortality, seek ye from without that
  happiness whose seat is only within us? Error and ignorance bewilder
  you. I will show thee, in brief, the hinge on which perfect happiness
  turns. Is there anything more precious to thee than thyself? Nothing,
  thou wilt say. If, then, thou art master of thyself, thou wilt possess
  that which thou wilt never be willing to lose, and which Fortune cannot
  take from thee. And that thou mayst see that happiness cannot possibly
  consist in these things which are the sport of chance, reflect that, if
  happiness is the highest good of a creature living in accordance with
  reason, and if a thing which can in any wise be reft away is not the
  highest good, since that which cannot be taken away is better than it,
  it is plain that Fortune cannot aspire to bestow happiness by reason of
  its instability. And, besides, a man borne along by this transitory
  felicity must either know or not know its unstability. If he knows not,
  how poor is a happiness which depends on the blindness of ignorance! If
  he knows it, he needs must fear to lose a happiness whose loss he
  believes to be possible. Wherefore, a never-ceasing fear suffers him not
  to be happy. Or does he count the possibility of this loss a trifling
  matter? Insignificant, then, must be the good whose loss can be borne so
  equably. And, further, I know thee to be one settled in the belief that
  the souls of men certainly die not with them, and convinced thereof by
  numerous proofs; it is clear also that the felicity which Fortune
  bestows is brought to an end with the death of the body: therefore, it
  cannot be doubted but that, if happiness is conferred in this way, the
  whole human race sinks into misery when death brings the close of all.
  But if we know that many have sought the joy of happiness not through
  death only, but also through pain and suffering, how can life make men
  happy by its presence when it makes them not wretched by its loss?'
  
  
  
  SONG IV. THE GOLDEN MEAN.
  
  
      Who founded firm and sure
      Would ever live secure,
      In spite of storm and blast
      Immovable and fast;
      Whoso would fain deride
      The ocean's threatening tide;--
      His dwelling should not seek
      On sands or mountain-peak.
      Upon the mountain's height
      The storm-winds wreak their spite:
      The shifting sands disdain
      Their burden to sustain.
      Do thou these perils flee,
      Fair though the prospect be,
      And fix thy resting-place
      On some low rock's sure base.
      Then, though the tempests roar,
      Seas thunder on the shore,
      Thou in thy stronghold blest
      And undisturbed shalt rest;
      Live all thy days serene,
      And mock the heavens' spleen.
  
  
  
  V.
  
  
  'But since my reasonings begin to work a soothing effect within thy
  mind, methinks I may resort to remedies somewhat stronger. Come,
  suppose, now, the gifts of Fortune were not fleeting and transitory,
  what is there in them capable of ever becoming truly thine, or which
  does not lose value when looked at steadily and fairly weighed in the
  balance? Are riches, I pray thee, precious either through thy nature or
  in their own? What are they but mere gold and heaps of money? Yet these
  fine things show their quality better in the spending than in the
  hoarding; for I suppose 'tis plain that greed Alva's makes men hateful,
  while liberality brings fame. But that which is transferred to another
  cannot remain in one's own possession; and if that be so, then money is
  only precious when it is given away, and, by being transferred to
  others, ceases to be one's own. Again, if all the money in the world
  were heaped up in one man's possession, all others would be made poor.
  Sound fills the ears of many at the same time without being broken into
  parts, but your riches cannot pass to many without being lessened in the
  process. And when this happens, they must needs impoverish those whom
  they leave. How poor and cramped a thing, then, is riches, which more
  than one cannot possess as an unbroken whole, which falls not to any one
  man's lot without the impoverishment of everyone else! Or is it the
  glitter of gems that allures the eye? Yet, how rarely excellent soever
  may be their splendour, remember the flashing light is in the jewels,
  not in the man. Indeed, I greatly marvel at men's admiration of them;
  for what can rightly seem beautiful to a being endowed with life and
  reason, if it lack the movement and structure of life? And although such
  things do in the end take on them more beauty from their Maker's care
  and their own brilliancy, still they in no wise merit your admiration
  since their excellence is set at a lower grade than your own.
  
  'Does the beauty of the fields delight you? Surely, yes; it is a
  beautiful part of a right beautiful whole. Fitly indeed do we at times
  enjoy the serene calm of the sea, admire the sky, the stars, the moon,
  the sun. Yet is any of these thy concern? Dost thou venture to boast
  thyself of the beauty of any one of them? Art _thou_ decked with
  spring's flowers? is it _thy_ fertility that swelleth in the fruits of
  autumn? Why art thou moved with empty transports? why embracest thou an
  alien excellence as thine own? Never will fortune make thine that which
  the nature of things has excluded from thy ownership. Doubtless the
  fruits of the earth are given for the sustenance of living creatures.
  But if thou art content to supply thy wants so far as suffices nature,
  there is no need to resort to fortune's bounty. Nature is content with
  few things, and with a very little of these. If thou art minded to force
  superfluities upon her when she is satisfied, that which thou addest
  will prove either unpleasant or harmful. But, now, thou thinkest it
  fine to shine in raiment of divers colours; yet--if, indeed, there is
  any pleasure in the sight of such things--it is the texture or the
  artist's skill which I shall admire.
  
  'Or perhaps it is a long train of servants that makes thee happy? Why,
  if they behave viciously, they are a ruinous burden to thy house, and
  exceeding dangerous to their own master; while if they are honest, how
  canst thou count other men's virtue in the sum of thy possessions? From
  all which 'tis plainly proved that not one of these things which thou
  reckonest in the number of thy possessions is really thine. And if there
  is in them no beauty to be desired, why shouldst thou either grieve for
  their loss or find joy in their continued possession? While if they are
  beautiful in their own nature, what is that to thee? They would have
  been not less pleasing in themselves, though never included among thy
  possessions. For they derive not their preciousness from being counted
  in thy riches, but rather thou hast chosen to count them in thy riches
  because they seemed to thee precious.
  
  'Then, what seek ye by all this noisy outcry about fortune? To chase
  away poverty, I ween, by means of abundance. And yet ye find the result
  just contrary. Why, this varied array of precious furniture needs more
  accessories for its protection; it is a true saying that they want most
  who possess most, and, conversely, they want very little who measure
  their abundance by nature's requirements, not by the superfluity of vain
  display. Have ye no good of your own implanted within you, that ye seek
  your good in things external and separate? Is the nature of things so
  reversed that a creature divine by right of reason can in no other way
  be splendid in his own eyes save by the possession of lifeless chattels?
  Yet, while other things are content with their own, ye who in your
  intellect are God-like seek from the lowest of things adornment for a
  nature of supreme excellence, and perceive not how great a wrong ye do
  your Maker. His will was that mankind should excel all things on earth.
  Ye thrust down your worth beneath the lowest of things. For if that in
  which each thing finds its good is plainly more precious than that whose
  good it is, by your own estimation ye put yourselves below the vilest of
  things, when ye deem these vile things to be your good: nor does this
  fall out undeservedly. Indeed, man is so constituted that he then only
  excels other things when he knows himself; but he is brought lower than
  the beasts if he lose this self-knowledge. For that other creatures
  should be ignorant of themselves is natural; in man it shows as a
  defect. How extravagant, then, is this error of yours, in thinking that
  anything can be embellished by adornments not its own. It cannot be. For
  if such accessories add any lustre, it is the accessories that get the
  praise, while that which they veil and cover remains in its pristine
  ugliness. And again I say, That is no _good_, which injures its
  possessor. Is this untrue? No, quite true, thou sayest. And yet riches
  have often hurt those that possessed them, since the worst of men, who
  are all the more covetous by reason of their wickedness, think none but
  themselves worthy to possess all the gold and gems the world contains.
  So thou, who now dreadest pike and sword, mightest have trolled a carol
  "in the robber's face," hadst thou entered the road of life with empty
  pockets. Oh, wondrous blessedness of perishable wealth, whose
  acquisition robs thee of security!'
  
  
  
  SONG V. THE FORMER AGE.
  
  
      Too blest the former age, their life
        Who in the fields contented led,
      And still, by luxury unspoiled,
        On frugal acorns sparely fed.
  
      No skill was theirs the luscious grape
        With honey's sweetness to confuse;
      Nor China's soft and sheeny silks
        T' empurple with brave Tyrian hues.
  
      The grass their wholesome couch, their drink
        The stream, their roof the pine's tall shade;
      Not theirs to cleave the deep, nor seek
        In strange far lands the spoils of trade.
  
      The trump of war was heard not yet,
        Nor soiled the fields by bloodshed's stain;
      For why should war's fierce madness arm
        When strife brought wound, but brought not gain?
  
      Ah! would our hearts might still return
        To following in those ancient ways.
      Alas! the greed of getting glows
        More fierce than Etna's fiery blaze.
  
      Woe, woe for him, whoe'er it was,
        Who first gold's hidden store revealed,
      And--perilous treasure-trove--dug out
        The gems that fain would be concealed!
  
  
  
  VI.
  
  
  'What now shall I say of rank and power, whereby, because ye know not
  true power and dignity, ye hope to reach the sky? Yet, when rank and
  power have fallen to the worst of men, did ever an Etna, belching forth
  flame and fiery deluge, work such mischief? Verily, as I think, thou
  dost remember how thine ancestors sought to abolish the consular power,
  which had been the foundation of their liberties, on account of the
  overweening pride of the consuls, and how for that self-same pride they
  had already abolished the kingly title! And if, as happens but rarely,
  these prerogatives are conferred on virtuous men, it is only the virtue
  of those who exercise them that pleases. So it appears that honour
  cometh not to virtue from rank, but to rank from virtue. Look, too, at
  the nature of that power which ye find so attractive and glorious! Do ye
  never consider, ye creatures of earth, what ye are, and over whom ye
  exercise your fancied lordship? Suppose, now, that in the mouse tribe
  there should rise up one claiming rights and powers for himself above
  the rest, would ye not laugh consumedly? Yet if thou lookest to his body
  alone, what creature canst thou find more feeble than man, who
  oftentimes is killed by the bite of a fly, or by some insect creeping
  into the inner passage of his system! Yet what rights can one exercise
  over another, save only as regards the body, and that which is lower
  than the body--I mean fortune? What! wilt thou bind with thy mandates
  the free spirit? Canst thou force from its due tranquillity the mind
  that is firmly composed by reason? A tyrant thought to drive a man of
  free birth to reveal his accomplices in a conspiracy, but the prisoner
  bit off his tongue and threw it into the furious tyrant's face; thus,
  the tortures which the tyrant thought the instrument of his cruelty the
  sage made an opportunity for heroism. Moreover, what is there that one
  man can do to another which he himself may not have to undergo in his
  turn? We are told that Busiris, who used to kill his guests, was himself
  slain by his guest, Hercules. Regulus had thrown into bonds many of the
  Carthaginians whom he had taken in war; soon after he himself submitted
  his hands to the chains of the vanquished. Then, thinkest thou that man
  hath any power who cannot prevent another's being able to do to him what
  he himself can do to others?
  
  'Besides, if there were any element of natural and proper good in rank
  and power, they would never come to the utterly bad, since opposites are
  not wont to be associated. Nature brooks not the union of contraries.
  So, seeing there is no doubt that wicked wretches are oftentimes set in
  high places, it is also clear that things which suffer association with
  the worst of men cannot be good in their own nature. Indeed, this
  judgment may with some reason be passed concerning all the gifts of
  fortune which fall so plentifully to all the most wicked. This ought
  also to be considered here, I think: No one doubts a man to be brave in
  whom he has observed a brave spirit residing. It is plain that one who
  is endowed with speed is swift-footed. So also music makes men musical,
  the healing art physicians, rhetoric public speakers. For each of these
  has naturally its own proper working; there is no confusion with the
  effects of contrary things--nay, even of itself it rejects what is
  incompatible. And yet wealth cannot extinguish insatiable greed, nor has
  power ever made him master of himself whom vicious lusts kept bound in
  indissoluble fetters; dignity conferred on the wicked not only fails to
  make them worthy, but contrarily reveals and displays their
  unworthiness. Why does it so happen? Because ye take pleasure in calling
  by false names things whose nature is quite incongruous thereto--by
  names which are easily proved false by the very effects of the things
  themselves; even so it is; these riches, that power, this dignity, are
  none of them rightly so called. Finally, we may draw the same conclusion
  concerning the whole sphere of Fortune, within which there is plainly
  nothing to be truly desired, nothing of intrinsic excellence; for she
  neither always joins herself to the good, nor does she make good men of
  those to whom she is united.'
  
  
  
  SONG VI. NERO'S INFAMY.
  
  
      We know what mischief dire he wrought--
        Rome fired, the Fathers slain--
      Whose hand with brother's slaughter wet
        A mother's blood did stain.
  
      No pitying tear his cheek bedewed,
        As on the corse he gazed;
      That mother's beauty, once so fair,
        A critic's voice appraised.
  
      Yet far and wide, from East to West,
        His sway the nations own;
      And scorching South and icy North
        Obey his will alone.
  
      Did, then, high power a curb impose
        On Nero's phrenzied will?
      Ah, woe when to the evil heart
        Is joined the sword to kill!
  
  
  
  VII.
  
  
  Then said I: 'Thou knowest thyself that ambition for worldly success
  hath but little swayed me. Yet I have desired opportunity for action,
  lest virtue, in default of exercise, should languish away.'
  
  Then she: 'This is that "last infirmity" which is able to allure minds
  which, though of noble quality, have not yet been moulded to any
  exquisite refinement by the perfecting of the virtues--I mean, the love
  of glory--and fame for high services rendered to the commonweal. And yet
  consider with me how poor and unsubstantial a thing this glory is! The
  whole of this earth's globe, as thou hast learnt from the demonstration
  of astronomy, compared with the expanse of heaven, is found no bigger
  than a point; that is to say, if measured by the vastness of heaven's
  sphere, it is held to occupy absolutely no space at all. Now, of this so
  insignificant portion of the universe, it is about a fourth part, as
  Ptolemy's proofs have taught us, which is inhabited by living creatures
  known to us. If from this fourth part you take away in thought all that
  is usurped by seas and marshes, or lies a vast waste of waterless
  desert, barely is an exceeding narrow area left for human habitation.
  You, then, who are shut in and prisoned in this merest fraction of a
  point's space, do ye take thought for the blazoning of your fame, for
  the spreading abroad of your renown? Why, what amplitude or magnificence
  has glory when confined to such narrow and petty limits?
  
  'Besides, the straitened bounds of this scant dwelling-place are
  inhabited by many nations differing widely in speech, in usages, in mode
  of life; to many of these, from the difficulty of travel, from
  diversities of speech, from want of commercial intercourse, the fame not
  only of individual men, but even of cities, is unable to reach. Why, in
  Cicero's days, as he himself somewhere points out, the fame of the Roman
  Republic had not yet crossed the Caucasus, and yet by that time her
  name had grown formidable to the Parthians and other nations of those
  parts. Seest thou, then, how narrow, how confined, is the glory ye take
  pains to spread abroad and extend! Can the fame of a single Roman
  penetrate where the glory of the Roman name fails to pass? Moreover, the
  customs and institutions of different races agree not together, so that
  what is deemed praise worthy in one country is thought punishable in
  another. Wherefore, if any love the applause of fame, it shall not
  profit him to publish his name among many peoples. Then, each must be
  content to have the range of his glory limited to his own people; the
  splendid immortality of fame must be confined within the bounds of a
  single race.
  
  'Once more, how many of high renown in their own times have been lost in
  oblivion for want of a record! Indeed, of what avail are written records
  even, which, with their authors, are overtaken by the dimness of age
  after a somewhat longer time? But ye, when ye think on future fame,
  fancy it an immortality that ye are begetting for yourselves. Why, if
  thou scannest the infinite spaces of eternity, what room hast thou left
  for rejoicing in the durability of thy name? Verily, if a single
  moment's space be compared with ten thousand years, it has a certain
  relative duration, however little, since each period is definite. But
  this same number of years--ay, and a number many times as great--cannot
  even be compared with endless duration; for, indeed, finite periods may
  in a sort be compared one with another, but a finite and an infinite
  never. So it comes to pass that fame, though it extend to ever so wide a
  space of years, if it be compared to never-lessening eternity, seems not
  short-lived merely, but altogether nothing. But as for you, ye know not
  how to act aright, unless it be to court the popular breeze, and win the
  empty applause of the multitude--nay, ye abandon the superlative worth
  of conscience and virtue, and ask a recompense from the poor words of
  others. Let me tell thee how wittily one did mock the shallowness of
  this sort of arrogance. A certain man assailed one who had put on the
  name of philosopher as a cloak to pride and vain-glory, not for the
  practice of real virtue, and added: "Now shall I know if thou art a
  philosopher if thou bearest reproaches calmly and patiently." The other
  for awhile affected to be patient, and, having endured to be abused,
  cried out derisively: "_Now_, do you see that I am a philosopher?" The
  other, with biting sarcasm, retorted: "I should have hadst thou held thy
  peace." Moreover, what concern have choice spirits--for it is of such
  men we speak, men who seek glory by virtue--what concern, I say, have
  these with fame after the dissolution of the body in death's last hour?
  For if men die wholly--which our reasonings forbid us to believe--there
  is no such thing as glory at all, since he to whom the glory is said to
  belong is altogether non-existent. But if the mind, conscious of its own
  rectitude, is released from its earthly prison, and seeks heaven in free
  flight, doth it not despise all earthly things when it rejoices in its
  deliverance from earthly bonds, and enters upon the joys of heaven?'
  
  
  
  SONG VII. GLORY MAY NOT LAST.
  
  
      Oh, let him, who pants for glory's guerdon,
        Deeming glory all in all,
      Look and see how wide the heaven expandeth,
        Earth's enclosing bounds how small!
  
      Shame it is, if your proud-swelling glory
        May not fill this narrow room!
      Why, then, strive so vainly, oh, ye proud ones!
        To escape your mortal doom?
  
      Though your name, to distant regions bruited,
        O'er the earth be widely spread,
      Though full many a lofty-sounding title
        On your house its lustre shed,
  
      Death at all this pomp and glory spurneth
        When his hour draweth nigh,
      Shrouds alike th' exalted and the humble,
        Levels lowest and most high.
  
      Where are now the bones of stanch Fabricius?
        Brutus, Cato--where are they?
      Lingering fame, with a few graven letters,
        Doth their empty name display.
  
      But to know the great dead is not given
        From a gilded name alone;
      Nay, ye all alike must lie forgotten,
        'Tis not _you_ that fame makes known.
  
      Fondly do ye deem life's little hour
        Lengthened by fame's mortal breath;
      There but waits you--when this, too, is taken--
        At the last a second death.
  
  
  
  VIII.
  
  
  'But that thou mayst not think that I wage implacable warfare against
  Fortune, I own there is a time when the deceitful goddess serves men
  well--I mean when she reveals herself, uncovers her face, and confesses
  her true character. Perhaps thou dost not yet grasp my meaning. Strange
  is the thing I am trying to express, and for this cause I can scarce
  find words to make clear my thought. For truly I believe that Ill
  Fortune is of more use to men than Good Fortune. For Good Fortune, when
  she wears the guise of happiness, and most seems to caress, is always
  lying; Ill Fortune is always truthful, since, in changing, she shows her
  inconstancy. The one deceives, the other teaches; the one enchains the
  minds of those who enjoy her favour by the semblance of delusive good,
  the other delivers them by the knowledge of the frail nature of
  happiness. Accordingly, thou mayst see the one fickle, shifting as the
  breeze, and ever self-deceived; the other sober-minded, alert, and wary,
  by reason of the very discipline of adversity. Finally, Good Fortune, by
  her allurements, draws men far from the true good; Ill Fortune ofttimes
  draws men back to true good with grappling-irons. Again, should it be
  esteemed a trifling boon, thinkest thou, that this cruel, this odious
  Fortune hath discovered to thee the hearts of thy faithful friends--that
  other hid from thee alike the faces of the true friends and of the
  false, but in departing she hath taken away _her_ friends, and left thee
  _thine_? What price wouldst thou not have given for this service in the
  fulness of thy prosperity when thou seemedst to thyself fortunate?
  Cease, then, to seek the wealth thou hast lost, since in true friends
  thou hast found the most precious of all riches.'
  
  
  
  SONG VIII. LOVE IS LORD OF ALL.
  
  
      Why are Nature's changes bound
      To a fixed and ordered round?
      What to leagued peace hath bent
      Every warring element?
      Wherefore doth the rosy morn
      Rise on Phoebus' car upborne?
      Why should Phoebe rule the night,
      Led by Hesper's guiding light?
      What the power that doth restrain
      In his place the restless main,
      That within fixed bounds he keeps,
      Nor o'er earth in deluge sweeps?
      Love it is that holds the chains,
      Love o'er sea and earth that reigns;
      Love--whom else but sovereign Love?--
      Love, high lord in heaven above!
      Yet should he his care remit,
      All that now so close is knit
      In sweet love and holy peace,
      Would no more from conflict cease,
      But with strife's rude shock and jar
      All the world's fair fabric mar.
  
      Tribes and nations Love unites
      By just treaty's sacred rites;
      Wedlock's bonds he sanctifies
      By affection's softest ties.
      Love appointeth, as is due,
      Faithful laws to comrades true--
      Love, all-sovereign Love!--oh, then,
      Ye are blest, ye sons of men,
      If the love that rules the sky
      In your hearts is throned on high!
  
  
  
  </CHAPTER>
  
  BOOK III.
  
  TRUE HAPPINESS AND FALSE.
  
  
       SUMMARY
  
       CH. I. Boethius beseeches Philosophy to continue. She promises to
       lead him to true happiness.--CH. II. Happiness is the one end which
       all created beings seek. They aim variously at (_a_) wealth, or
       (_b_) rank, or (_c_) sovereignty, or (_d_) glory, or (_e_)
       pleasure, because they think thereby to attain either (_a_)
       contentment, (_b_) reverence, (_c_) power, (_d_) renown, or (_e_)
       gladness of heart, in one or other of which they severally imagine
       happiness to consist.--CH. III. Philosophy proceeds to consider
       whether happiness can really be secured in any of these ways, (_a_)
       So far from bringing contentment, riches only add to men's
       wants.--CH. IV. (_b_) High position cannot of itself win respect.
       Titles command no reverence in distant and barbarous lands. They
       even fall into contempt through lapse of time.--CH. V. (_c_)
       Sovereignty cannot even bestow safety. History tells of the
       downfall of kings and their ministers. Tyrants go in fear of their
       lives. --CH. VI. (_d_) Fame conferred on the unworthy is but
       disgrace. The splendour of noble birth is not a man's own, but his
       ancestors'.--CH. VII. (_e_) Pleasure begins in the restlessness of
       desire, and ends in repentance. Even the pure pleasures of home may
       turn to gall and bitterness.--CH. VIII. All fail, then, to give
       what they promise. There is, moreover, some accompanying evil
       involved in each of these aims. Beauty and bodily strength are
       likewise of little worth. In strength man is surpassed by the
       brutes; beauty is but outward show.--CH. IX. The source of men's
       error in following these phantoms of good is that _they break up
       and separate that which is in its nature one and indivisible_.
       Contentment, power, reverence, renown, and joy are essentially
       bound up one with the other, and, if they are to be attained at
       all, must be attained _together_. True happiness, if it can be
       found, will include them all. But it cannot be found among the
       perishable things hitherto considered.--CH. X. Such a happiness
       necessarily exists. Its seat is in God. Nay, God is very happiness,
       and in a manner, therefore, the happy man partakes also of the
       Divine nature. All other ends are relative to this good, since they
       are all pursued only for the sake of good; it is _good_ which is
       the sole ultimate end. And since the sole end is also happiness, it
       is plain that this good and happiness are in essence the same.--CH.
       XI. Unity is another aspect of goodness. Now, all things subsist so
       long only as they preserve the unity of their being; when they lose
       this unity, they perish. But the bent of nature forces all things
       (plants and inanimate things, as well as animals) to strive to
       continue in life. Therefore, all things desire unity, for unity is
       essential to life. But unity and goodness were shown to be the
       same. Therefore, good is proved to be the end towards which the
       whole universe tends.[E]--CH. XII. Boethius acknowledges that he is
       but recollecting truths he once knew. Philosophy goes on to show
       that it is goodness also by which the whole world is governed.[F]
       Boethius professes compunction for his former folly. But the
       paradox of evil is introduced, and he is once more perplexed.
  
  
  FOOTNOTES:
  
  [E] This solves the second of the points left in doubt at the end of bk.
  i., ch. vi.
  
  [F] This solves the third. No distinct account is given of the first,
  but an answer may be gathered from the general argument of bks. ii.,
  iii., and iv.
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Summary of Book II Part I-III
target: of Part I       Philosophy speaks to Boethius explaining he is pining away for his former good fortune, and his imagination has distorted his mind with longing for what he lost. Philosophy knows the many guises of Fortune and how she seduces people with friendship and then overwhelms them with grief when she deserts them. Fortune was not his true friend. He is wrong if he thinks Fortune has changed towards him, because change is Fortune's normal behavior. Fortune is a "random goddess" . She is unreliable and dangerous and gives false happiness. The kind of happiness that passes away is not true happiness. Once you enter Fortune's playground, you must bear with patience whatever she gives you, like a farmer who has to bear good years and bad years with his crop.
feat_summary_analysis: Commentary on Part I       Philosophy begins her cure by helping Boethius understand the true nature of Fortune, a random goddess, who gives and takes away at her whim. She is never a true friend and completely unreliable. Philosophy speaks of Fortune's Wheel, always turning and turning. When a man is on top, he is happy. When the wheel turns, and a man is on the bottom, he is miserable: "Such is the game she plays" . She has a heart of steel and laughs even at kings. She does not respond to the misery of men. Humans cannot keep the wheel from turning. It is a wheel of chance. This description of Fortune became famous in the medieval writers influenced by Boethius. His own life was a perfect example of the cruel game of Fortune. He was a patrician in Rome, of ancient and royal family, who also happened to be a virtuous and scholarly man, hoping to benefit humanity with his wisdom and learning. He had a good wife, two sons who were Roman consuls; he had wealth and fame and a comfortable home. He was still young enough  to have his health. He had produced voluminous translations of precious Greek texts, preserving them for future generations. Without warning or just cause, he was thrown into prison and executed on the pretext he had committed some treason. How can Boethius think of Fortune as a friend or pine after her gifts? It is a game that cannot be won by humans. Summary of Part II       Philosophy now plays the part of Fortune, speaking in Fortune's voice to show humans how they misunderstand her. Fortune argues that she has not stolen any gifts from Boethius because none of them belonged to him in the first place, nor to any humans. He came naked from the womb, and Fortune fed him from her own resources. She was indulgent, and when she withdrew her hand, he cried out as though she had stolen something from him. Everything else in creation is allowed to be itself. All Fortune's gifts come and go with her. Are humans so greedy that they demand Fortune to be constant, when inconstancy is her nature? Fortune gives examples of humans who fell from her wheel. Croesus, king of Lydia, went from wealth to misery. Perses, the last king of Macedonia, was also a tragic figure. Tragedy is a literary form that acknowledges these reversals of Fortune. Commentary on Part II       Philosophy in Fortune's voice reminds Boethius of the story in Homer about the two jars in God's house, one full of evil and one full of good. Boethius has had more than his share of the good, and now it is time to taste the bad. Fortune's very changefulness should give him hope, because nothing stays the same. She sings a song about the greed of humans, always wanting more, never satisfied, no matter how much they get. They will always complain. Summary of Part III       Now Philosophy invites Boethius to reply. He says her words are sweet but do not help the mind weighed down by "deep seated melancholy" . Philosophy counters that Boethius has forgotten his many blessings as "the luckiest man in the world" , adopted by Symmachus, married to a modest wife, having two sons and worldly honors. The culmination of his fortune, however, was the day his two sons became consuls together, and the senators appreciated the glorious oratory of Boethius on this honor. This is the only time Fortune has been unfriendly to him. The things he moans about are passing away, that is all. He knows there is no permanence. Commentary on Part III       Philosophy speaking for the goddess Fortune tries to explain to Boethius that it makes no difference whether Fortune deserts him at some point, or that he deserts her by dying. These honors and gifts are never permanent. She sings a song about the instability of the world: "In law eternal it lies decreed/ That naught from change is ever freed" . He has been one of the lucky ones in life, but he cannot expect to be exempt from change, when it is the whole way Nature functions in different cycles; in spring, winter, storm, and calm. Book II of Part I Philosophy speaks to Boethius explaining he is pining away for his former good fortune, and his imagination has distorted his mind with longing for what he lost. Philosophy knows the many guises of Fortune and how she seduces people with friendship and then overwhelms them with grief when she deserts them. Fortune was not his true friend. He is wrong if he thinks Fortune has changed towards him, because change is Fortune's normal behavior. Fortune is a "random goddess" . She is unreliable and dangerous and gives false happiness. The kind of happiness that passes away is not true happiness. Once you enter Fortune's playground, you must bear with patience whatever she gives you, like a farmer who has to bear good years and bad years with his crop. Commentary on Part I Commentary on Part I Philosophy begins her cure by helping Boethius understand the true nature of Fortune, a random goddess, who gives and takes away at her whim. She is never a true friend and completely unreliable. Philosophy speaks of Fortune's Wheel, always turning and turning. When a man is on top, he is happy. When the wheel turns, and a man is on the bottom, he is miserable: "Such is the game she plays" . She has a heart of steel and laughs even at kings. She does not respond to the misery of men. Humans cannot keep the wheel from turning. It is a wheel of chance. This description of Fortune became famous in the medieval writers influenced by Boethius. His own life was a perfect example of the cruel game of Fortune. He was a patrician in Rome, of ancient and royal family, who also happened to be a virtuous and scholarly man, hoping to benefit humanity with his wisdom and learning. He had a good wife, two sons who were Roman consuls; he had wealth and fame and a comfortable home. He was still young enough to have his health. He had produced voluminous translations of precious Greek texts, preserving them for future generations. Without warning or just cause, he was thrown into prison and executed on the pretext he had committed some treason. How can Boethius think of Fortune as a friend or pine after her gifts? It is a game that cannot be won by humans. of Part II Philosophy now plays the part of Fortune, speaking in Fortune's voice to show humans how they misunderstand her. Fortune argues that she has not stolen any gifts from Boethius because none of them belonged to him in the first place, nor to any humans. He came naked from the womb, and Fortune fed him from her own resources. She was indulgent, and when she withdrew her hand, he cried out as though she had stolen something from him. Everything else in creation is allowed to be itself. All Fortune's gifts come and go with her. Are humans so greedy that they demand Fortune to be constant, when inconstancy is her nature? Fortune gives examples of humans who fell from her wheel. Croesus, king of Lydia, went from wealth to misery. Perses, the last king of Macedonia, was also a tragic figure. Tragedy is a literary form that acknowledges these reversals of Fortune. Commentary on Part II Commentary on Part II Philosophy in Fortune's voice reminds Boethius of the story in Homer about the two jars in God's house, one full of evil and one full of good. Boethius has had more than his share of the good, and now it is time to taste the bad. Fortune's very changefulness should give him hope, because nothing stays the same. She sings a song about the greed of humans, always wanting more, never satisfied, no matter how much they get. They will always complain. of Part III Now Philosophy invites Boethius to reply. He says her words are sweet but do not help the mind weighed down by "deep seated melancholy" . Philosophy counters that Boethius has forgotten his many blessings as "the luckiest man in the world" , adopted by Symmachus, married to a modest wife, having two sons and worldly honors. The culmination of his fortune, however, was the day his two sons became consuls together, and the senators appreciated the glorious oratory of Boethius on this honor. This is the only time Fortune has been unfriendly to him. The things he moans about are passing away, that is all. He knows there is no permanence. Commentary on Part III Commentary on Part III Philosophy speaking for the goddess Fortune tries to explain to Boethius that it makes no difference whether Fortune deserts him at some point, or that he deserts her by dying. These honors and gifts are never permanent. She sings a song about the instability of the world: "In law eternal it lies decreed/ That naught from change is ever freed" . He has been one of the lucky ones in life, but he cannot expect to be exempt from change, when it is the whole way Nature functions in different cycles; in spring, winter, storm, and calm. Novel Author Boethius Novel Author Boethius