Preface

The book called 'The Consolation of Philosophy' was throughout the Middle Ages, and down to the beginnings of the modern epoch in the sixteenth century, the scholar's familiar companion. Few books have exercised a wider influence in their time. It has been translated into every European tongue, and into English nearly a dozen times, from King Alfred's paraphrase to the translations of Lord Preston, Causton, Ridpath, and Duncan, in the eighteenth century. The belief that what once pleased so widely must still have some charm is my excuse for attempting the present translation. The great work of Boethius, with its alternate prose and verse, skilfully fitted together like dialogue and chorus in a Greek play, is unique in literature, and has a pathetic interest from the time and circumstances of its composition. It ought not to be forgotten. Those who can go to the original will find their reward. There may be room also for a new translation in English after an interval of close on a hundred years.

Throughout the Middle Ages and into the beginning of the modern era in the sixteenth century, 'The Consolation of Philosophy' was a familiar companion to scholars. Few books have had a wider influence in their own time. It has been translated into every European language and nearly a dozen times into English. These English versions range from King Alfred's paraphrase to the eighteenth-century translations by Lord Preston, Causton, Ridpath, and Duncan. I offer this translation because I believe a book that once pleased so many people must still have some appeal. Boethius's great work is unique in literature. Its alternating prose and verse fit together skillfully, like the dialogue and chorus in a Greek play. The time and circumstances in which Boethius wrote it also give it a moving interest. It should not be forgotten. Those who can read the original will find it rewarding. There may also be room for a new English translation after an interval of nearly a hundred years.

Some of the editions contain a reproduction of a bust purporting to represent Boethius. Lord Preston's translation, for example, has such a portrait, which it refers to an original in marble at Rome. This I have been unable to trace, and suspect that it is apocryphal. The Hope Collection at Oxford contains a completely different portrait in a print, which gives no authority. I have ventured to use as a frontispiece a reproduction from a plaster-cast in the Ashmolean Museum, taken from an ivory diptych preserved in the Bibliotheca Quiriniana at Brescia, which represents Narius Manlius Boethius, the father of the philosopher. Portraiture of this period is so rare that it seemed that, failing a likeness of the author himself, this authentic representation of his father might have interest, as giving the consular dress and insignia of the time, and also as illustrating the decadence of contemporary art. The consul wears a richly-embroidered cloak; his right hand holds a staff surmounted by the Roman eagle, his left the mappa circensis, or napkin used for starting the races in the circus; at his feet are palms and bags of money—prizes for the victors in the games. For permission to use this cast my thanks are due to the authorities of the Ashmolean Museum, as also to Mr. T.W. Jackson, Curator of the Hope Collection, who first called my attention to its existence.

Some editions include a reproduction of a bust said to represent Boethius. Lord Preston's translation, for example, includes such a portrait and says it comes from a marble original in Rome. I have been unable to trace the original and suspect that the portrait is not authentic. The Hope Collection at Oxford contains a print of a completely different portrait, with no indication of its source. For the frontispiece, I have chosen a reproduction of a plaster cast in the Ashmolean Museum. The cast was taken from an ivory diptych in the Bibliotheca Quiriniana at Brescia. It represents Narius Manlius Boethius, the philosopher's father. Portraits from this period are so rare that, without a likeness of the author himself, this authentic image of his father seemed worth including. It shows the dress and insignia of a consul at the time and also illustrates the decline of contemporary art. The consul wears a richly embroidered cloak. In his right hand he holds a staff topped by the Roman eagle. In his left he holds the mappa circensis, or napkin used to start races in the circus. At his feet are palms and bags of money, prizes for the winners of the games. I thank the authorities of the Ashmolean Museum for permission to use the cast. I also thank Mr. T.W. Jackson, Curator of the Hope Collection, who first brought it to my attention.

I have to thank my brother, Mr. L. James, of Radley College, for much valuable help and for correcting the proof-sheets of the translation. The text used is that of Peiper, Leipsic, 1874.

I thank my brother, Mr. L. James of Radley College, for his valuable help and for correcting the translation’s proofs. The text used is Peiper’s, published in Leipsic in 1874.