Boethius, The Consolation 2.29

“But,” she said, “do not think that I would urge implacable war upon Fortune. There are times when her deception of men has certain merits. I mean when she discovers herself, unveils her face, and proclaims her ways.

Perhaps you do not yet understand what I would say. It is a strange thing that I am trying to say, and for that reason I can scarcely explain myself in words. I think that ill fortune is of greater advantage to men than good fortune. Good fortune is ever lying when she seems to favor by an appearance of happiness. Ill fortune is ever true when by her changes she shows herself inconstant.

The one deceives, the other edifies. The one by a deceitful appearance of good things enchains the minds of those who enjoy them. The other frees them by a knowledge that happiness is so fragile.

You see, then, that the one is blown about by winds, is ever moving and ever ignorant of its own self. The other is sober, ever prepared and ever made provident by the undergoing of its very adversities.

Lastly, good fortune draws men from the straight path of true good by her fawning. Ill fortune draws most men to the true good, and holds them back by her curved staff.” . . .

—from Book 2, Prose 8

The argument here is something I had long failed to really consider, for far too many years. We all assume, of course, that good fortune is beneficial, and that bad fortune is harmful. Why else would we call them “good” and “bad”? If I win a million dollars, the world is looking great, and if my house has burned down, things have taken a turn for the worse.

Now Lady Philosophy has been explaining to Boethius that any kind of fortune, whether we call it good or bad, is hardly a reliable source of happiness. As soon as we start depending upon it, we are placing our trust in something over which we really have little control. Would it not be wiser to build our lives on what we do, rather than what happens to us?

But surely, even if our lives can only be what we make of them, fortune can still be of assistance, or make that path easier, or offer the mean for us to become better. If fortune can help me to build my own character, I would be a fool to turn her away. If I have wealth, I could use that wealth for good, or if I have fame, I could employ my fame for the sake of what is right.

Yet human nature can be fickle, and being given more will not necessarily mean that we will make more of it. In fact, Lady Philosophy now suggests that the more good fortune comes our way, the more likely we will be to make ourselves worse. The choice, of course, is up to us, but the weight of influence will be such that good fortune will actually discourage us from virtue, and bad fortune will encourage us to virtue.

This flies in the face of everything we take for granted, but our assumptions are still built on the idea that life is measured by our circumstances. Once we begin to see that what is on the outside is entirely relative to what is on the inside, we can be open to a transformation of values.

Give us all the supposed blessings of fortune, and we will be easily tempted to rest in them, or use them as our support, and we think that they are trustworthy and constant. We begin to find our contentment in them alone, and we can then neglect our moral worth.

Take away all the supposed blessings of fortune, and we realize that we can never rest in them, or use them as our support, and we no longer think they are trustworthy and constant. We begin to find our contentment in ourselves alone, and we can then improve our moral worth.

The odd irony ends up being that what we thought was helping was actually hurting, and what we thought was hurting was actually helping. Good fortune can deceive us into a false sense of security and dependence, and makes us ignorant of our true nature. Bad fortune can wake us from our slumber, reminding us of what truly matters in life, and makes us stronger in the face of adversity.

My own experience, considered with brutal honesty, has taught me how much this has been true in my life. I have done some things right, and many things wrong, in all sort of circumstances, but the general pattern, far more often than not, has been that when you given me more, I make less of myself, and when you give me less, I make more of myself.

Fortune can “reward” me with more, or she can “punish” me with less. At first it is clear which I should prefer, but what if I see that a reward can spoil me, making me weak, entitled, and arrogant, while a punishment can correct me, making be committed, responsible, and humble? I might want to rethink my preference.

More and less are not always what we think they are. 

Written in 9/2015

IMAGE: Frans Francken II, Allegory of Fortune (c. 1615)