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

The One End All Things Seek

Song II · The Bent of Nature.

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 II

Then, fixing her gaze a little downward and withdrawing, as it were, into the inmost dwelling of her mind, she began like this:

"Every concern of mortals, which the labor of their many pursuits keeps busy, travels indeed by different roads, yet strives to arrive at one and the same end, that of happiness. And happiness is the good which, once a person has obtained it, leaves him nothing further to desire. It is itself the highest of all goods, and contains all goods within itself; for if anything were missing from it, it could not be the highest, since something would be left outside that could still be wished for. Clearly, then, happiness is a state made perfect by the gathering together of all goods.

"This, as I said, all mortals try to reach by different paths. For there is naturally implanted in the minds of human beings a longing for the true good, but error, going astray, leads them off toward false goods. Of these, some, believing the highest good to be the lack of nothing, work hard to overflow with riches. Others, judging the good to be what is most worthy of reverence, strive by gaining honors to be revered by their fellow citizens. There are those who place the highest good in the highest power: these either want to rule themselves, or to attach themselves to those who rule. But to those who think distinction the best thing, these hurry to spread a glorious name by the arts of war or of peace. Very many, however, measure the fruit of the good by joy and gladness; these think it most happy to dissolve in pleasure. There are also those who exchange the ends and causes of these things one for another: some desire riches for the sake of power and pleasures, or seek power either for the sake of money or for the sake of spreading their name.

"In these things, then, and in others of the kind, the aim of human actions and prayers turns: such as nobility and popular favor, which seem to procure a certain renown; wife and children, which are sought for the sake of pleasantness; while friends—which is the most sacred kind—are counted not as part of fortune but of virtue; everything else is taken on either for the sake of power or of delight. Now it is plain that bodily goods are to be referred to the things above: for strength and size seem to confer power, beauty and swiftness fame, health pleasure. By all of these it is clear that happiness alone is desired; for whatever a person seeks before all else, that he judges to be the highest good. But we have defined the highest good as happiness; therefore each person judges blessed the state he desires before all others.

"So you have before your eyes the general shape of human happiness laid out: wealth, honors, power, glory, pleasures. Looking at these alone, Epicurus consistently held the highest good to be pleasure, because all the rest seem to bring delight to the soul.

"But I return to the pursuits of human beings, whose minds, though their memory be clouded, still seek their own good back again, but, like a drunken man, do not know by which road to return home. Surely those who strive to lack nothing do not seem to be in error? And indeed there is nothing that could complete happiness as well as a state rich in all goods, needing nothing of another's, but self-sufficient. And surely those go astray who think that what is best is also most worthy of the worship of reverence? Not at all; for it is no cheap and contemptible thing that the aim of nearly all mortals labors to obtain. And is power not to be counted among the goods? Then what? Is that to be judged feeble and without strength which is agreed to surpass all things? Or is renown to be reckoned as nothing? But it cannot be separated out that whatever is most excellent should also seem most renowned. As for there being no anxiety or sadness in happiness, no subjection to pains and troubles—why mention it, when even in the smallest things people seek what it delights them to have and enjoy? These, then, are the things people want to obtain, and for that reason they desire riches, dignities, kingdoms, glory, and pleasures: because through these they believe self-sufficiency, reverence, power, fame, and gladness will come to them. The good, then, is what people seek by such different pursuits; and how great is the force of nature in this is easily shown, since, though their opinions are various and disagreeing, they nevertheless agree in loving the good as their end."

Song IIThe Bent of Nature.
How mighty Nature holds the reins of things, by what laws she providently keeps the boundless world and binds each single thing, tying it with a knot that cannot be undone— this I am pleased to set forth in clear-toned song, upon the supple strings.
Though the Punic lions wear handsome chains and take the food given them by hand, and fear their cruel master, used to bearing his blows— yet if blood has stained their bristling jaws, their spirits, drowsy till now, return, and with a heavy roar they remember themselves. They loosen the knots and free their necks, and the trainer, first torn by the bloody tooth, slakes their raging fury.
The chattering bird that sings on the high branches is shut in the hollow of a cage; though a playful human's care may serve it cups smeared with honey and lavish food out of sweet devotion— yet if, hopping in its narrow prison, it has glimpsed the pleasant shadows of the woods, it tramples the scattered food beneath its feet, mourning, it longs only for the forest, in a sweet voice it whispers of the forest.
A sapling, bent down by mighty force, bows its top toward the ground; but if the hand that curved it lets go, it looks straight up again to the sky.
Phoebus sinks into the western waves, but by a hidden path he again turns his chariot toward his accustomed rising.
All things seek again their own returnings, and each rejoices in its own return. No order remains assigned to anything except what joins its end to its beginning and makes its own course steadfast.