The Consolation of Philosophy · Book II
Book II · Chapter VI

Power and High Place

Song VI · Neros' Infamy.

The Text

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A new modern English rendering, made from the Latin with AI assistance — a reading aid, not a scholarly edition.

Chapter VI

"But what shall I say of high offices and power, which you, ignorant of true dignity and power, raise level with heaven? If these have fallen to the wickedest of men, what flames of Etna in eruption, what flood, would have wrought such havoc? Surely, as I think you remember, your ancestors of old wished to abolish the consular authority, which had been the beginning of liberty, because of the arrogance of the consuls—just as, because of that same arrogance, they had earlier removed the name of king from the state. But if at any time—which is very rare—these offices are conferred on the good, what is it that pleases in them but the honesty of those who use them? And so it comes about that honor accrues not to virtues from office, but to offices from virtue. But what is this power of yours, so longed-for and so glorious? Do you not consider, O earthly creatures, who it is you seem to preside over? If among mice you saw one claiming for himself a right and power over the rest, with what laughter you would be shaken! And what, if you look at the body, could you find weaker than a man, who is often killed even by the bites of tiny flies, or by the entrance of creatures creeping into his secret parts? And over what can anyone exercise any right at all, except over the body alone and over what is below the body—I mean fortune? Will you ever command a free mind? Will you remove from the state of its own peace a mind that coheres firmly within itself by sound reason? When a tyrant thought he would force a certain free man by tortures to betray his accomplices in a conspiracy made against him, the man bit through his own tongue, cut it off, and threw it into the face of the raging tyrant. Thus the tortures that the tyrant supposed to be the matter of his cruelty, the wise man made to be the matter of virtue.

But what is there that anyone can do to another, which he cannot himself suffer from another? We have heard that Busiris, who was accustomed to kill his guests, was himself slaughtered by his guest Hercules. Regulus had thrown many Carthaginians captured in war into chains, but soon he himself offered his hands to the chains of the conquered. Do you think, then, that there is any power in a man who cannot bring it about that what he himself can do to another, another cannot do to him? Besides, if there were in offices and powers themselves anything of natural and proper good, they would never fall to the worst men. For opposites are not wont to be joined together: nature refuses that contraries should be united. So, since there is no doubt that the worst men generally hold offices, this too is clear—that things are not good by their own nature which allow themselves to cling to the worst men. And this can be more rightly judged of all the gifts of fortune, which come more abundantly to the most wicked.

About these I think this should also be considered: that no one doubts a man is brave in whom he has seen bravery to be present, and that whoever has swiftness is plainly swift. So music makes musicians, medicine makes physicians, rhetoric makes rhetoricians. For the nature of each thing does what is proper to it, and is not mixed with the effects of contrary things, and indeed drives away what is opposed to it. And yet wealth cannot quench insatiable greed, nor does power make master of himself the man whom vicious lusts hold bound in chains that cannot be loosed; and dignity conferred on the wicked not only does not make them worthy, but rather betrays and exposes them as unworthy. Why does it happen so? Because you delight in calling things that are otherwise by false names, which are easily refuted by the effect of the things themselves. And so neither can those riches rightly be called riches, nor that power power, nor this dignity dignity. Finally, one may conclude the same about the whole of fortune, in which it is plain there is nothing to be desired, nothing of inborn goodness—since it neither always joins itself to the good, nor makes good those to whom it has joined itself."

Song VINero's Infamy.
We know what ruin he wrought, with the city set aflame and the senators slain, who once, savage, after his brother was killed, was drenched with the spilled blood of his mother; and ranging with his gaze over the body cold to look upon, he did not wet his face with tears, but could be a judge of the dead one's beauty.
Yet this man ruled the peoples with his scepter— the peoples that Phoebus sees, sinking his rays beneath the waves, as he comes from the farthest dawn; the peoples that the seven cold stars of the north press upon; the peoples that the south wind, violent with its dry heat, scorches, baking again the burning sands.
Did lofty power, then, after all avail to turn the madness of crooked Nero? Alas, heavy is the lot, as often as the cruel sword is joined to the savage poison!