The Death of Marcus Aurelius

The Death of Marcus Aurelius

Thursday, September 19, 2019

Boethius, The Consolation 3.44


“Happy the man who could reach the crystal fount of good:
 happy he who could shake off the chains of matter and of earth.
The singer of Thrace in olden time lamented his dead wife:
by his tearful strains he made the trees to follow him,
and bound the flowing streams to stay.
For him the hind would fearlessly go side by side with fiercest lions,
and the hare would look upon the hound, nor be afraid,
for he was gentle under the song's sway.
But when the hotter flame burnt up his inmost soul,
even the strains, which had subdued all other things,
could not soothe their own lord's mind.
Complaining of the hard hearts of the gods above,
he dared approach the realms below.
There he tuned his songs to soothing tones,
and sang the lays he had drawn from his mother’s fount of excellence.
His unrestrained grief did give him power,
his love redoubled his grief's power:
his mourning moved the depths of hell.
With gentlest prayers he prayed to the lords of the shades for grace.
The three-headed porter was taken captive with amazement at his fresh songs.
The avenging goddesses, who haunt with fear the guilty, poured out sad tears.
Ixion's wheel no longer swiftly turned.
Tantalus, so long abandoned unto thirst,
could then despise the flowing stream.
The vulture, satisfied by his strains, tore not awhile at Tityos's heart.
At last the lord of the shades in pity cried:
‘We are conquered, take your bride with you, bought by your song;
but one condition binds our gift:
till she has left these dark abodes, turn not your eyes upon her.’
Who shall set a law to lovers? Love is a greater law unto itself.
Alas! At the very bounds of darkness
Orpheus looked upon his Eurydice;
looked, and lost her, and was lost himself.

“To you too this tale refers;
you, who seek to lead your thoughts to the light above.
For whosoever is overcome of desire,
and turns his gaze upon the darkness beneath the earth,
he, while he looks on hell, loses the prize he carried off.”

—from Book 3, Poem 12

When I was a child, it was already quite rare for young people to be familiar with myths, legends, lives of the saints, or even most fairy tales. I and a few others had still been raised with them, but there were not many of us, and by the time I became a teacher, I could take it for granted that my students did not know stories from Homer, Virgil, Ovid, Aesop, Grimm, or Lang, and most certainly not from the Bible or Butler’s Lives of the Saints.

Now trends will come and go, and it would hardly surprise me if one day we return to the classics. What make such stories classic is not that they are old, but that they are universal, that they can speak to the human condition in any time or place. Man can choose to be great, or he can choose to be terrible, and it is only the wisdom of the ages that can help him to learn the difference.

The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice is a case in point. Gifted with a power of music that could charm gods and men alike, Orpheus nevertheless lost his beloved to a tragic death. He descended into the Underworld to see Eurydice once again, made his way past Cerberus, and with his beautiful song he deeply moved the heart of Hades. The god permitted him to return to the land of the living with his bride, but only on the condition that he not look back until they had left the realm of the dead.

It would only take some commitment, a bit of patience, and a strong will to do that, Orpheus must have thought, and then he could be happy with her again. Surely that wouldn’t be too difficult? It would, after all, only be for a moment.

Yet as they ascended, he did not hear her footsteps behind him, forgetting that Eurydice was still a shade, and he worriedly turned around to find her. She slipped back into the darkness, and not only had he lost her a second time, but he had lost her because he could not keep his eyes firmly directed forward. There would be no further chances; the loss was now forever.

Lady Philosophy reminds Boethius of this so that he can keep focused on the greater things in life, and not to be distracted by the lesser things. He has learned so much about the true nature of happiness, and he has begun to lift his eyes to new heights. Now is not the time to be diverted by the temptation of the shades below.

The story can speak to all of us, because we have all fallen into the trap, at one time or another. I know this is right, but my old longings get the better of me. I know what I must do, but my past habits are still pulling my strings. I know I shouldn’t look away, but I just can’t seem to help myself.

Well yes, I can help myself. It is my own judgment, and only my own, that will determine my path. If it is good enough in my understanding, it can also be good enough in my actions. Courage is the virtue I need here, to support my wisdom and strengthen my temperance.

I already knew better when I still decided to follow intellectual charlatans, and I destroyed my own peace of mind. I already knew better when I was still seduced by a pretty face, and I abandoned my own sense of right and wrong. I already knew better when I drowned my sorrows in a bottle, and I lost all respect for myself.

I knew better, yet I didn’t do better. And it was all because I kept looking back at the things that were bad for me.

There are only so many chances. Orpheus had one, and he botched it. Boethius has one now, and he is on the razor’s edge. I blew too many of mine, but perhaps I have one more left.

Learn from the old stories. 

Written in 10/2015

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