“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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