Boethius, The Consolation 1.3

While I was pondering thus in silence, and using my pen to set down so tearful a complaint, there appeared standing over my head a woman's form, whose countenance was full of majesty, whose eyes shone as with fire and in power of insight that surpassed the eyes of men, whose color was full of life, whose strength was yet intact though she was so full of years that none would ever think that she was subject to such age as ours.

One could but doubt her varying stature, for at one moment she repressed it to the common measure of a man, at another she seemed to touch with her crown the very heavens. And when she had raised higher her head, it pierced even the sky and baffled the sight of those who would look upon it.

Her clothing was wrought of the finest thread by subtle workmanship brought to an indivisible piece. This had she woven with her own hands, as I afterwards did learn by her own showing. Their beauty was somewhat dimmed by the dullness of long neglect, as is seen in the smoke-grimed masks of our ancestors.

On the border below was enwoven the symbol Π (Pi), on that above was to be read a Θ (Theta). And between the two letters there could be marked degrees, by which, as by the rungs of a ladder, ascent might be made from the lower principle to the higher. Yet the hands of rough men had torn this garment and snatched such morsels as they could from there.

In her right hand she carried books, in her left was a scepter brandished. . . .

— from Book 1, Prose 1

The idea that philosophy can be a cure for the ills of this life, and that her appearance can bring relief from our everyday fear and pain, may seem quite odd to our modern sensibilities. Philosophy would appear to refer either to some very vague and general approach to any subject, or it is that very specific subject that academics pursue in their ivory towers. It’s a clever term to insert into business and marketing proposals, or a career pursued by fancy intellectuals. Philosophy hardly saves lives, does it?

Yet that is precisely why Lady Philosophy comes to Boethius now. She may not choose to save his body from death, but she intends to save his soul from despair. I came to see in my own life that this was the sort of philosophy I needed, and perhaps why I have always had trouble making myself understood to those who used the word differently.

I have read many wonderful accounts of what Lady Philosophy’s appearance signifies, and how all the aspects of the description point to different historical and thematic concepts. I can add only what her qualities have come to mean to me over the years.

Philosophy is, of course, not an exclusive domain for men or women, but exists as something essentially human. Yet philosophy is here depicted as feminine. The Ancients had understood something we often overlook, that an equality of gender is not the same thing as an identity of gender. A man may lead, but his instinct will often be to confront and protect. A woman may also lead, with no less strength, but her instinct will often be to comfort and nurture. Boethius does not need the power of a father right now, but the understanding of a mother.

Her insight appears greater than anything human, and she seems both very old, yet with all the vibrancy of youth. Perhaps this is because philosophy is certainly about human things, but transcends such things to also include the order of all things, and their relationship to what is absolute. It is about the human mind rising to what is greater than itself. Truth, furthermore, which is eternal and unchanging, is neither young nor old.

She seems smaller and larger at different times, human at one point, divine at another. It is to this intersection of what is mortal and immortal, changing and unchanging, finite and infinite that we must dedicate our attention.

She is clothed in a beautiful robe, and it is seamless, crafted from only one piece, just as wisdom is never divided, but always one. She had made the fabric herself, as is appropriate for philosophy, where man can employ his own powers of reason to come to understand truth for himself. Lady Philosophy will soon show Boethius how to become a weaver of wisdom.

Yet the robe is somewhat dull and worn, surely not just because it was made so long ago, but because generations of mankind have failed to maintain it and give it due attention. It is much like that section of a library with all the most insightful books, yet they are covered in dust, and no one wishes to read them. We are much more interested in the shallow trends of the day, than the profound wisdom of the ages.

The letters Pi and Theta represent practice and theory respectively, and they are joined together by the steps we can all take from the immanence of particular experience to the transcendence of universal contemplation.

Why is the fabric also torn? Small minds rip a piece from here or there, and they think they possess the whole truth. It is as if they gather the stray crumbs from under the table, and believe themselves to be enjoying the whole banquet. They are interested in their own glory, not the glory of all truth.

She holds books containing wisdom, and her scepter indicates the true power this wisdom grants her. This is the Philosophy Boethius needs right now, one that can bring order to chaos, and meaning to confusion. 

Written in 3/2015

Image: Lady Philosophy in her robes, from a manuscript of The Consolation of Philosophy (c. 1230)