“Hactenus mendacis formam felicitatis ostendisse suffecerit, quam si perspicaciter intueris, ordo est deinceps quae sit uera monstrare.”
“Atqui uideo,” inquam, “nec opibus sufficientiam nec regnis potentiam nec reuerentiam dignitatibus nec celebritatem gloria nec laetitiam uoluptatibus posse contingere.”
“An etiam causas, cur id ita sit, deprehendisti?”
“Tenui quidem ueluti rimula mihi uideor intueri, sed ex te apertius cognoscere malim.”
“Atqui promptissima ratio est.
Quod enim simplex est indiuisumque natura, id error humanus separat et a uero atque perfecto ad falsum imperfectumque traducit.
An tu arbitraris quod nihilo indigeat egere potentia?”
“Minime,” inquam.
“Recte tu quidem.
Nam si quid est quod in ulla re inbecillioris ualentiae sit, in hac praesidio necesse est egeat alieno.”
“Ita est,” inquam.
“Igitur sufficientiae potentiaeque una est eademque natura.”
“Sic uidetur.”
“Quod uero huiusmodi sit, spernendumne esse censes an contra rerum omnium ueneratione dignissimum?”
“At hoc,” inquam, “ne dubitari quidem potest.”
“Addamus igitur sufficientiae potentiaeque reuerentiam, ut haec tria unum esse iudicemus.”
“Addamus, si quidem uera uolumus confiteri.”
“Quid uero,” inquit, “obscurumne hoc atque ignobile censes esse an omni celebritate clarissimum?
Considera uero, ne quod nihilo indigere, quod potentissimum, quod honore dignissimum esse concessum est, egere claritudine quam sibi praestare non possit atque ob id aliqua ex parte uideatur abiectius.”
“Non possum,” inquam, “quin hoc uti est ita etiam celeberrimum esse confitear.”
“Consequens igitur est ut claritudinem superioribus tribus nihil differre fateamur.”
“Consequitur,” inquam.
“Quod igitur nullius egeat alieni, quod suis cuncta uiribus possit, quod sit clarum atque reuerendum, nonne hoc etiam constat esse laetissimum?”
“Sed unde huic,” inquam, “tali maeror ullus obrepat ne cogitare quidem possum; quare plenum esse laetitiae, si quidem superiora manebunt, necesse est confiteri.”
“Atqui illud quoque per eadem necessarium est sufficientiae, potentiae, claritudinis, reuerentiae, iucunditatis nomina quidem esse diuersa, nullo modo uero discrepare substantiam.”
“Necesse est,” inquam.
“Hoc igitur quod est unum simplexque natura, prauitas humana dispertit et dum rei quae partibus caret partem conatur adipisci, nec portionem quae nulla est nec ipsam quam minime affectat assequitur.”
“Quonam,” inquam, “modo?”
“Qui diuitias,” inquit, “petit penuriae fuga, de potentia nihil laborat, uilis obscurusque esse mauult, multas etiam sibi naturales quoque subtrahit uoluptates, ne pecuniam quam parauit amittat.
Sed hoc modo ne sufficientia quidem contingit ei quem ualentia deserit, quem molestia pungit, quem uilitas abicit, quem recondit obscuritas.
Qui uero solum posse desiderat, profligat opes, despicit uoluptates honoremque potentia carentem gloriam quoque nihili pendit.
Sed hunc quoque quam multa deficiant uides.
Fit enim ut aliquando necessariis egeat, ut anxietatibus mordeatur cumque haec depellere nequeat, etiam id quod maxime petebat potens esse desistat.
Similiter ratiocinari de honoribus, gloria, uoluptatibus licet.
Nam cum unumquodque horum idem quod cetera sit, quisquis horum aliquid sine ceteris petit, ne illud quidem quod desiderat apprehendit.”
“Quid igitur?” inquam.
“Si qui cuncta simul cupiat adipisci, summam quidem ille beatitudinis uelit.
Sed num in his eam reperiet, quae demonstrauimus id quod pollicentur non posse conferre?”
“Minime,” inquam.
“In his igitur quae singula quaedam expetendorum praestare creduntur, beatitudo nullo modo uestiganda est.”
“Fateor,” inquam, “et hoc nihil dici uerius potest.”
“Habes igitur,” inquit, “et formam falsae felicitatis et causas.
Deflecte nunc in aduersum mentis intuitum; ibi enim ueram quam promisimus statim uidebis.”
“Atqui haec,” inquam, “uel caeco perspicua est eamque tu paulo ante monstrasti, dum falsae causas aperire conaris.
Nam nisi fallor ea uera est et perfecta felicitas quae sufficientem, potentem, reuerendum, celebrem laetumque perficiat.
Atque ut me interius animaduertisse cognoscas, quae unum horum, quoniam idem cuncta sunt, ueraciter praestare potest hanc esse plenam beatitudinem sine ambiguitate cognosco.”
“O te alumne hac opinione felicem, si quidem hoc,” inquit, “adieceris....”
“Quidnam?” inquam.
“Essene aliquid in his mortalibus caducisque rebus putas quod huiusmodi statum possit afferre?”
“Minime,” inquam, “puto idque a te, nihil ut amplius desideretur, ostensum est.”
“Haec igitur uel imagines ueri boni uel inperfecta quaedam bona dare mortalibus uidentur, uerum autem atque perfectum bonum conferre non possunt.”
“Assentior,” inquam.
“Quoniam igitur agnouisti quae uera illa sit, quae autem beatitudinem mentiantur, nunc superest ut unde ueram hanc petere possis agnoscas.”
“Id quidem,” inquam, “iam dudum uehementer exspecto.”
“Sed cum, ut in Timaeo Platoni,” inquit, “nostro placet, in minimis quoque rebus diuinum praesidium debeat implorari, quid nunc faciendum censes, ut illius summi boni sedem reperire mereamur?”
“Inuocandum,” inquam, “rerum omnium patrem, quo praetermisso nullum rite fundatur exordium.”
“Recte,” inquit, ac simul ita modulata est.
It suffyseth that I have shewed hider-to the forme of false welefulnesse, so that, yif thou loke now cleerly, the order of myn entencioun requireth from hennes-forth to shewen thee the verray welefulnesse.’
‘For sothe,’ quod I, ‘I see wel now that suffisaunce may nat comen by richesses , ne power by reames, ne reverence by dignitees, ne gentilesse by glorie, ne Ioye by delices.’
‘And hast thou wel knowen the causes,’ quod she, ‘why it is?’
‘Certes, me semeth,’ quod I, ‘that I see hem right as though it were thorugh a litel clifte; but me were levere knowen hem more openly of thee.’
‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘the resoun is al redy.
For thilke thing that simply is o thing, with-outen any devisioun, the errour and folye of mankinde departeth and devydeth it, and misledeth it and transporteth from verray and parfit good to goodes that ben false and unparfit .
But sey me this. Wenest thou that he, that hath nede of power, that him ne lakketh no-thing?’
‘Nay,’ quod I.
‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘thou seyst a-right.
For yif so be that ther is a thing, that in any partye be febler of power, certes, as in that, it mot nedes ben nedy of foreine help.’
‘Right so is it,’ quod I.
‘Suffisaunce and power ben thanne of o kinde?’
‘So semeth it,’ quod I.
‘And demest thou ,’ quod she, ‘that a thing that is of this manere, that is to seyn, suffisaunt and mighty, oughte ben despysed, or elles that it be right digne of reverence aboven alle thinges?’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘it nis no doute, that it is right worthy to ben reverenced.’
‘Lat us,’ quod she, ‘adden thanne reverence to suffisaunce and to power, so that we demen that thise three thinges ben al o thing.’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘lat us adden it, yif we wolen graunten the sothe.’
‘What demest thou thanne?’ quod she; ‘is that a derk thing and nat noble, that is suffisaunt, reverent, and mighty, or elles that it is right noble and right cleer by celebritee of renoun?
Consider thanne,’ quod she, ‘as we han graunted her-biforn, that he that ne hath nede of no-thing, and is most mighty and most digne of honour, yif him nedeth any cleernesse of renoun, which cleernesse he mighte nat graunten of him-self, so that, for lakke of thilke cleernesse, he mighte seme the febeler on any syde or the more out-cast?’ Glose. This is to seyn, nay; for who-sothat is suffisaunt, mighty, and reverent, cleernesse of renoun floweth of the forseyde thinges; he hath it al redy of his suffisaunce.
Boece. ‘I may nat,’ quod I, ‘denye it; but I mot graunte as it is, that this thing be right celebrable by cleernesse of renoun and noblesse.’
‘Thanne folweth it,’ quod she, ‘that we adden cleernesse of renoun to the three forseyde thinges, so that ther ne be amonges hem no difference?’
‘This is a consequence,’ quod I.
‘This thing thanne,’ quod she, ‘that ne hathnede of no55 foreine thing, and that may don alle thinges by hise strengthes, and that is noble and honourable, nis nat that a mery thing and a Ioyful?’
‘But whennes ,’ quod I, ‘that any sorwe mighte comen to this thing that is swiche, certes, I may nat thinke.’
‘Thanne moten we graunte,’ quod she, ‘that this thing be ful of gladnesse, yif the forseyde thinges ben sothe; and certes, also mote we graunten that suffisaunce, power, noblesse, reverence, and gladnesse ben only dyverse by names, but hir substaunce hath no diversitee.’
‘It mot needly been so,’ quod I.
Thilke thing thanne,’ quod she, ‘that is oon and simple in his nature, the wikkednesse of men departeth it and devydeth it; and whan they enforcen hem to geten partye of a thing that ne hath no part, they ne geten hem neither thilke partye that[ ]70 nis non, ne the thing al hool that they ne desire nat.’
‘In which manere?’ quod I.
‘Thilke man,’ quod she, ‘that secheth richesses to fleen povertee, he ne travaileth him nat for to gete power; for he hath levere ben derk and vyl; and eek withdraweth from him-self many naturel delyts, for he nolde lese the moneye that he hath assembled.
But certes, in this manere he ne geteth him nat suffisaunce that power forleteth, and that molestie[ prikketh, and that filthe maketh out-cast, and that derkenesse hydeth.
And certes, he that desireth only power, he wasteth and scatereth richesse, and despyseth delyts, and eek honour that is with-oute power, ne he ne preyseth glorie no-thing.
Certes, thus seest thou wel, that manye thinges faylen to him;
for he hath som-tyme defaute of many necessitees, and many anguisshes byten him; and whan he ne may nat don tho defautes a-wey, he forleteth to ben mighty, and that is the thing that he most desireth.
And right thus may I maken semblable resouns of honours, and of glorie, and of delyts.
For so as every of thise forseyde thinges is the same that thise other thinges ben, that is to seyn, al oon thing, who-so that ever seketh to geten that oon of thise, and nat that other, he ne geteth nat that he desireth.’
Boece. ‘What seyst thou thanne,
yif that a man coveiteth to geten alle thise thinges to-gider?’ Philosophie. ‘Certes,’ quod she, ‘I wolde seye, that he wolde geten him sovereyn blisfulnesse;
but that shal he nat finde in tho thinges that I have shewed, that ne mowen nat yeven that they beheten.’
‘Certes, no,’ quod I.
‘Thanne,’ quod she, ‘ne sholden men nat by no wey seken blisfulnesse in swiche thinges as men wene that they ne mowen yeven but o thing senglely of alle that men seken.’
‘I graunte wel,’ quod I; ‘ne no sother thing ne may ben sayd.’
‘Now hast thou thanne,’ quod she, ‘the forme and the causes of false welefulnesse.
Now torne and flitte the eyen of thy thought; for ther shalt thou sen anon thilke verray blisfulnesse that I have bihight thee.’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘it is cleer and open, thogh it were to a blinde man; and that shewedest thou me ful wel a litel herbiforn, whan thou enforcedest thee to shewe me the causes of the false blisfulnesse.
For but-yif I be bigyled, thanne is thilke the verray blisfulnesse parfit, that parfitly maketh a man suffisaunt, mighty, honourable, noble, and ful of gladnesse.
And, for thou shalt wel knowe that I have wel understonden thise thinges with-in my herte, I knowe wel that thilke blisfulnesse, that may verrayly yeven oon of the forseyde thinges, sin they ben al oon, I knowe, douteles, that thilke thing is the fulle blisfulnesse.’
Philosophie. ‘O my norie ,’ quod she, ‘by this opinioun I seye that thou art blisful, yif thou putte this ther-to that I shal seyn.’
‘What is that?’ quod I.
‘Trowest thou that ther be any thing in thise erthely mortal toumbling thinges that may bringen this estat?’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘I trowe it naught; and thou hast shewed me wel that over thilke good ther nis no-thing more to ben desired.’
‘Thise thinges thanne,’ quod she, ‘that is to sey, erthely suffisaunce and power and swiche thinges, either they semen lykenesses of verray good, or elles it semeth that they yeve to mortal folk a maner of goodes that ne ben nat parfit; but thilke good that is verray and parfit, that may they nat yeven.’
‘I acorde me wel,’ quod I.
‘Thanne,’ quod she, ‘for as mochel as thou hast knowen which is thilke verray blisfulnesse, and eek whiche thilke thinges ben that lyen falsly blisfulnesse, that is to seyn, that by deceite[ ] semen verray goodes, now behoveth thee to knowe whennes and where thou mowe seke thilke verray blisfulnesse.’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘that desire I greetly, and have abiden longe tyme to herknen it.’
‘But for as moche,’ quod she, ‘as it lyketh to my disciple Plato, in his book of “in Timeo ,” that in right litel thinges men sholden bisechen the help of god, what iugest thou that be now to done, so that we may deserve to finde the sete of thilke verray good?’
‘Certes,’ quod I, ‘I deme that we shollen clepen the fader of alle goodes; for with-outen him nis ther no-thing founden a-right.’
‘Thou seyst a-right,’ quod she; and bigan anon to singen right thus:—
'Hitherto hit sufficeth to shewe the forme of gileful felicitie, which if you Clirely beholde, the ordar than ust be to shewe you the true."
"Yea I se," quoth I, "that ynough suffiseth not riches, nor Power kingdomes, nor honor dignities, nor glory the prising, nor Joy the pleasure."
"Hast thou
gathered the cause of this?"
"Methinkes I see hit as by a rife
slenderly, but do desire pleinlier of the to knows hit."
"Ready is the reason.
Whan that wiche vnmixt and by nature
vnparted is, that humaine error partz, and from the true and
right to falz and wanting brings.
Dost thou suppose that nothing he wantes that power needes?"
"I think not so."
"Truly thou hast sayde,
for if ought be that is of weakist worth, must needly neede som others help."
"So it is," said I.
"Therfor the one & self same is nature of sufficiency & powre."
"So it seemes."
"But that ther is such thing, dost thou think
it to be despised or wourthy all regards?"
"This is not to be doubted."
"Let vs ad to this sufficiency, powre, reuerence,
that these three we may Judge one."
" Let it be, for trouth we wyll confesse."
"Dost thou think this any obscure matter
or ignoble or of more show than any other dignitie?
But consider lest it be graunted that that needes not, is most of
powre, & worthyest most honour, yet wanting estimation,
which to it self it can not giue, And therfore may seeme in som parte to be lesse wourth.
We can not but graunte that this is most reuerenced.
Then it followes, that we confesse a show
of glory doth nothing differ from, the other three."
"Yt followes," quoth I.
"Tham that that needes none other, that
doth all of his own strength, that is benutifulst & most reuerenced : Is it not playne, that so is most pleasing to?
I can not imagine, how to such a man any sorow can happen,
wherfore necessarily it must be confest, that he is full of Joye,
if the forenamed remayne.
And by all this it needfully follows, that theffecte of sufficiency, powre, honour, Reuerence,
plesure, be diuers names, in substance nothing differs.
.
That
that is then one & symple by nature, humayn synne dispersith
; And in seeking to obtayne such thing as wantith
partes, myndith the same to gett, And so nether gettes that
portion that is none, nor that partie that desyres none."
"How may this be so?" quoth I.
"He that seekith riches by shunning penury, nothing carith for powre, he chosith rather to be meane & base, & withdrawes him from many naturall delytes, lest he lose the monny that he gat.
.
He, again, who thirsts alone for power squanders
his wealth, despises pleasure, and thinks fame
and rank alike worthless without power.
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Complete text
Book I: THE SORROWS OF BOETHIUS