Boethius was born in about 480 CE to a noble Roman family that was Christian. He was educated in the Platonic Academy at Athens. In 510, he served as consul to King Theodoric and was an active scholar “engaged in translations and adaptations of Greek philosophical texts and the composition of theological tracts that employed his philosophical training to intervene in the bitter disputes between east and west” (Godden and Irvine, v. I, 3). In 523, he was appointed Magister officiorum or Master of Offices, in charge of civil servants. Sometime around 524–25, “his fortunes were reversed when he was implicated in a plot against Theodoric, who sentenced him to death” (Fulk and Cain, 53). He proclaimed his innocence, but the senate confirmed the sentence and he was executed. While awaiting his execution in prison, he wrote De Consolatione Philosophiae (The Consolation of Philosophy). This work is a series of Platonic dialogues in prose and poetry in which Lady Philosophy heals the mind of Boethius by showing him the transient nature of worldly goods and the eternal nature of the divine Good, and by convincing him of the providential plan and purpose of God. As Green says, “Boethius undertook to justify the ways of God to men, to explore philosophically the mysteries of the divine will as it is manifested in the order, and apparent disorder, of temporal events” (xviii). The Consolation draws upon many traditions. Godden and Irvine point out that it is an apology for Boethius’s life and a defense of his political actions, a consolation that explores the proper rational movement from railing against ill fortune to an acceptance of providential purpose, a philosophic exploration of the nature of true and false happiness and of the relation between God’s foreknowledge and man’s free will, and an elegant literary work interspersing prose and poetry (v. I, 3–4). Green observes that “Boethius ostensibly uses the poems for purposes of rest and refreshment,” noting that Lady Philosophy remarks “that she intends to cure the sickness of her patient gradually, and that she will use the sweet persuasion of rhetoric and the grace of music to prepare him for the strong medicine of the highest philosophical speculation” (xx). Though the Consolation was probably completed in 525, the earliest manuscripts date from the ninth century; some forty manuscripts survive in the period up to the early twelfth century (Godden and Irvine, v. I, 4–5).
There are a great many differences between the Latin original and the OE prose translation of the Consolation, and Fulk and Cain argue that the OE version “is better considered an adaptation than a translation” (55). Godden and Irvine point out that “whether such differences are due to the author’s inability to comprehend the arguments and allusions of Boethius or his often dense syntax, or to a conscious preference for a quite different line of argument and illustration, for a very different readership, or to something between those two possibilities, has been much debated and is in part a matter of personal opinion or speculation” (v. I, 50). Some of these differences include the shift of Lady Philosophy to a masculine Wisdom and of Boethius occasionally to his own mind (see Cook, 1996, on this shift); differing attitudes toward worldly goods, political power, fame and fortune, and foreknowledge and free will; and the addition of numerous Christian references both explicit and implicit—though as Green notes, “Nothing in [the Latin original] is inconsistent with patristic theology; indeed precedent for nearly every idea which Boethius proposes can be found the work of St. Augustine” (xv). (For more on these differences, see Fulk and Cain, 55 ff., and Godden and Irvine, v. I, 50 ff.; for the role of translation during Alfred’s reign, see Benison.) The exact relationship between these manuscripts and the transmission of the texts remains much debated.
The movement from the OE prose translation of the Latin meters in the Consolation to the OE poetic version of those meters is complex. The OE metrical verses are almost certainly based on some early version of the prose translation of those same verses, as Godden and Irvine argue (though see Kiernan, 1998, for an alternative view). Most but not all of the original meters are translated into verse with shifts of meaning that vary from slight to substantial. Fulk and Cain argue that “Alfred’s purpose in versifying the Meters thus seems not to have been to compose memorable poetry but merely to give his translation a form comparable to that of his source, and thus to provide for those without knowledge of Latin an experience more nearly analogous to that of reading the original” (58). There are two possible caveats to this: (1) Producing such an analogous reading experience is no mean feat, given that the original Latin poems were composed in twenty-seven different meters (Godden and Irvine, v. I, 4). (2) The importance of the meters is underlined by Lady Philosophy, who often remarks in the original that she needs poetry and music to heal her patient and to provide him with a deeply moving sense of consolation. The importance of this empathically communicated poetic and musical truth is often reaffirmed by the analogous Wisdom in the OE versions.
For the modern poetic translations in this collection, I have used the OE poetic translations in the C text of the edition of Godden and Irvine, which are based on the Cotton MS Otho A.vi text, with readings from MS Junius 12 filling in for the damaged portions. Where there are difficult or debated passages, this sometimes calls into question what the best source is for arriving at the OE poet’s intentions or his readings (or misreadings) of his original(s). At each stage of the transmission and/or translation process, some revised reading and reshaped writing is bound to take place. The OE prose translation takes some liberties with the Latin text. This is also partly true in the poetic versions, both the OE poet’s and my own, since the demands of the alliterative, strong-stress line require certain subtle adjustments in meaning. As the preface to the Old English translation of the Consolation says, a good translator (here identified as King Alfred) will translate “sometimes word for word, sometimes sense for sense, in whatever way he can most clearly and meaningfully explain and interpret it, on account of the various and abundant worldly concerns which have occupied his mind and body” (Godden and Irvine, v. I, 239, B text; translation mine). For more on the complexities of translating the Boethian meters, see the section, “On Translating Translations,” in the essay “On Translating Old English Poetry” at the beginning of this book.
Readers who want to read a prose translation of the original Latin text should see Green. Those who want to read prose translations of the two main Old English texts should see Godden and Irvine, to whose work I am indebted in my rendering of the modern poetic translations below. I have included in brackets here a brief summary of the prose passages that occur between the poems.
The Meters of Boethius
Verse Preface
King Alfred, ruler of the West-Saxons,
Told this old story, weaving these words,
Revealing his rich skill as a poet.
His desire to do this ran broad and deep—
He wanted to offer these scripted songs 5
As a generous and joyful gift to all of us
Who love poetry, its craft and power,
Hoping that these verses might help the vain
To lift up their minds, temper their pride,
Escape boredom, and embrace the good. 10
Now I will speak, proclaim in poetry,
What people should know, the precious truth
They hold in their hearts. Hear it if you will.
1
It was long ago that the Goths left Scythia,
Bearing battle-shields out of the east,
Two mighty nations spreading southward,
Growing greater with each succeeding year
Under the righteous rule of two conquering kings, 5
Raedgota and Alaric. They prospered in power.
Then many of the Goths came over the Alps,
Driven by pride and a lust for war,
Full of battle-boasts and eager to attack
The Roman lands and subdue them all. 10
The blood-hungry shield-bearers descended
With shining war-banners and slaying swords.
They intended to overrun all of Ita
ly.
The men moved relentlessly, remorselessly,
From the edge of the Alps to the sea-strand 15
In the south across from the island of Sicily.
The ravaging Goths conquered the country,
Sacking great cities, reveling in glory,
Gathering power. Rome was gutted—
The emperor fled with his precious princes 20
Away to Greece. Rædgod and Alaric
Boldly entered the city stronghold.
The Roman survivors could not hold back
The heathen hordes in the grim battle-rush.
The homeland guardians reluctantly gave up 25
Both ancestral wealth and their holy oaths,
Trading treasure for terror, weal for woe.
That was not a good bargain—it was made in blood.
Their hearts and hopes rested with the Greeks—
If only they would offer aid, and end their agony. 30
Rome was occupied for many years
Until fate determined that all the citizens,
High and low, thanes and nobles,
Should obey Theodoric, a bold ruler
And baptized king committed to Christ. 35
The Romans rejoiced and sought peace.
Theodoric promised the people a chance
To retain their possessions and all their rights
In the city of glory as long as God wished
The great king to maintain his rule 40
Over the Goths. So they hoped to thrive
Throughout their lives—but Theodoric lied.
The Arian heresy was dearer to that king
Than the Lord’s law or his Christian commitment.
He ordered the head of holy Pope John 45
Severed from its body. That was not a noble deed.
Then the brutal Goth began to commit crimes
Against the citizens. Sin was rampant.
There was a powerful man living in Rome,
Who was raised as a consul under Greek rule, 50
The finest of leaders, fittest of lords,
The most trusted of treasure-givers.
He was wise with respect to worldly things,
Eager for honor, a renowned scholar.
His name was Boethius. He saw the abuse, 55
The contempt and cruelty laid on the people
By the two fierce warriors, two foreign kings.
He always remained loyal to the Greeks,
Their ancient rights, their love and favor,
And carefully considered how to bring them back 60
And restore the emperor as ruler of the realm.
He sent a secret letter to his former lords,
Urging them for the sake of God
And out of old loyalty to return to Rome
So that Greek counselors could rule again. 65
Then bold Theodoric, descendant of Amal,
Discovered that story and seized Boethius,
Commanding his soldiers to hold that battle-lord.
The king’s mind was troubled, his heart afraid,
For that captive was noble, powerful, and wise. 70
Theodoric locked him in a prison cell,
Where Boethius grew anxious and tormented,
Unnerved with his fate. He suspected the truth.
He had known great freedom and prosperity
For too long under grim Gothic rule. 75
He sensed the worst was yet to come.
The harsh reality gnawed at him,
And he grew despondent, his heart despairing.
He could find neither comfort nor consolation
In his painful state. He stretched out prostrate 80
On the prison floor, crying out in anguish,
Searching for mercy in the face of menace.
His sentence was sudden, his fate unforeseen.
He called out to God in darkest despair,
Singing a lament for his lost life, saying: 85
2
“Listen! Once I embraced life, singing
Songs of joy. Now my tunes are twisted—
My mournful melodies are winding woe.
Weary with weeping, I cannot conceive
How my fate has turned or celebrate my life 5
With the sustaining songs I used to sing.
Sometimes my talking is tongue-tied,
My once-wise words, wrenched and wried.
I struggle to shape a righteous thought
To suit my sorrow, but the mind is mute. 10
Now sometimes I misuse known words,
Where once I could charm my listeners
With unusual words and uncommon songs.
The bright blessings of this earthly realm
That I have long and foolishly trusted 15
Have enticed me to the edge of despair,
Bringing me nearly blind to this dark pit.
These faithless goods cannot protect me
Or cure the ache that ails my heart.
Philosophy flees from me, wisdom unwinds 20
From my web of words. Fate is fickle and unfair.
Oh, my friends, how I have fallen out of favor.
Why would you say that I was embraced
By smiling fortune in a worldly way,
When the truth is that time withers all blessings?” 25
[Then Wisdom comes to Boethius to lift up his grieving heart and to chase away his worldly sorrows. The mind of Boethius recognizes its foster parent Wisdom but sees that its teachings have been torn apart by fools. Wisdom laments the mind’s frailty and begins to sing:]
3
“Oh, how grim and dreadful is the painful pit,
The bottomless hole of bleak despair,
That the gloomy mind makes, wounding itself,
When the storms and struggles of worldly care
Batter and blast it, breaking it down. 5
Then the grappling heart wrestles itself
Into hopelessness, and the mind leaves its light
And abandons the radiance of eternal joy.
It rushes headlong into the deadly darkness
Of this transient world, shackled in sorrow. 10
This is the suffering state of this mind
That has lost its link with God’s goodness,
Knowing only the menace and misery of life
In this alien world. The mind knows no solace
In the storm and strife. It needs comfort.” 15
[The mind of Boethius begins to lament the fickleness of fortune in this life, wondering why the good are often tormented while the evil thrive; it then calls out to God, singing:]
4
“Oh Lord and Shaper of the starlit sky,
Eternal ruler of heaven and earth,
You command heaven from your high throne
And keep it revolving within your reach,
Controlling the stars through your holy power. 5
Sometimes the sun slakes the darkness,
Quenching the night. Sometimes the moon
Tempers the stars, softening their shine
Through your perfect might; sometimes it steals
The light of the sun in a close conjunction 10
Of heavenly paths. Likewise you press
The great morning star, called by some people
The evening star, to escort the sun,
Leading heaven’s candle on its yearly journey.
Heavenly Father, you keep the calendar, 15
The long days of summer, warm and winsome,
The short days of winter, cold and cruel.
You offer the ease of the southwest wind
To the suffering trees buffeted by storms
That rage savagely out of the northeast, 20
Stripping them of their summer leaves.
That dark wind destroys the life of the wood.
All earthly creatures obey your commands—
Fish and fowl,
bird and beast, branch and bloom—
As do heavenly hosts with might and mind, 25
All except man, that arrogant wonder
Who so often acts against your will.
Eternal and almighty Creator and Sustainer,
Have pity on your people, the children of men,
Who suffer such sorrow. Pity us now 30
In our hour of need. Why have you left fate
To work its unstable will in this troubled world,
Offering twisted delight to devious men?
Why do you allow the existence of evil?
It injures the innocent, abuses the just. 35
Why do wicked men rule this world,
Wielding terrible power from untouchable thrones,
Trampling the faithful under their feet?
No one knows why fortune twists and turns,
Following so often an unfathomable path, 40
So that virtue is veiled so often in the world,
And sin is no secret in the brazen cities.
Wicked men mock and scorn the righteous,
Ridiculing the wise who are more worthy to rule.
Deceit often hides in the hearts of men 45
And is seldom discovered beneath their lies.
False vows flourish and are rarely found out.
If you want to leave fate unfettered, Lord,
If you can’t control the ways of the world,
Then all but a few will begin to doubt 50
Your power and wisdom, your heavenly providence.
My Lord and Master, as you care for all creatures,
Look down on mankind with mercy, not menace,
Since we struggle and toil in this unworthy world.
Our enemies are legion. Our lives are wretched. 55
We are poor and miserable. Have pity on us.”
The Complete Old English Poems Page 97
