MEDIUM ÆVUM, VOL. LXXXVI, No. 2, pp.

207–223 © SSMLL, 2017

MEDIUM ÆVUM
VOL. LXXXVI, No. 2 2017

TRANSLATION AS GLOSS IN THE OLD ENGLISH BOETHIUS

For an Anglo-Saxon reader, there existed no ‘clean’ text of Boethius’ De

consolatione Philosophiae as seen in modern editions. The text, and therefore the
process of reading it, was always imbricated in a scholarly apparatus comprising
various kinds of glosses and sometimes prefatory materials. A glossed manuscript
requires that one read not only linearly across the page but also spatially around
it.1 Reading the Consolatio required that one engage the work of those previous
scholars who had commented upon it, scholars whose own interpretations were
written between the lines and in the margins of the text proper.2 As Martin Irvine
argues, a glossed text is ‘constituted as such by the commentary that frames it’,
and its meaning is always ‘experienced as a process … of ongoing negotiations
between the authority of the text and the newer authority of the gloss’.3 These
negotiations produce the meaning of the source text anew, and they produce it
differently. To translate a glossed manuscript is to displace the source text with
one’s own mediated, re-argued interpretation of it, and this interpretation is
vested with the authority of the original.4 This article examines one way that
the Old English Boethius, an important witness to the Alfredian programme of
vernacular education, re-argues and displaces its source.5 Through a comparison
of select passages of the Boethius to those in manuscript copies of the Consolatio
now available, I investigate how the Old English translator negotiates the text of
the Consolatio as it was constituted by the Carolingian scholarly tradition that
literally surrounded it. In these passages, I argue, the translator incorporates the
workings of this scholarly apparatus into his own text, proceeding in a manner
like that of the glossators even when no source relationship can be demonstrated.
The relationship of the Old English Boethius to the glosses on its Latin
208 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

source has long been a point of contention. Rediscovered by the eighth-century

Northumbrian scholar Alcuin during his time on the Continent,6 the Consolatio
seems to have been known in England by the end of the ninth century, and it was
translated into Old English by the early tenth century. The readings the Old English
Boethius contains seem to have come from diverse sources,7 but its relationship
to the glosses produced by Carolingian scholars is both particularly vexed and
particularly consequential. The matter has been more or less continuously debated
since Georg Schepss first provided evidence of parallels between the Boethius
and glosses in two continental manuscripts of the Consolatio,8 with convincing
and apparently mutually exclusive arguments presented both for and against the
possibility of Carolingian glosses’ influence on the Boethius.9 The best summary of
these studies to date is perhaps Paul E. Szarmach’s statement that they ‘describe a
particular dynamic of context and connection that often obtains in source work
when the criteria of correspondence in detail or verbal similarity are not met’
and that they produce a ‘non-result’.10 In this article, I bracket the question of
the glosses’ use as a source of content for the Old English translation, turning
instead to the glosses as a way of reading that lies behind it.
Like the Latin scholars who wrote glosses on the Consolatio, the Old
English translator tends to work through problems or difficulties with specific
moments, often even with single words, in the Latin text. At times, his changes
simplify the Latin or make it more concrete in much the same way as do many
interlinear glosses.11 At others, his changes provide more information or a deeper
interpretation in much the same way as a marginal gloss might.12 This conflation
of different types of glosses is suggested by the glossed manuscript page itself; in
a study of glossed Carolingian manuscripts, Louis Holtz notes that ‘s’efface la
distinction fondamentale qui séparait graphiquement les deux textes [the gloss or
commentary and the main text], ce qui est facilité si de copie à copie les gloses
sont recopiées par la même main que celle qui transcrit le texte principal’.13 In
the Old English translation, this blurred distinction has vanished altogether, and
the Old English translator replicates in his own text the kinds of intellectual
work that the Consolatio’s scholarly apparatus performs. In what follows, I first
describe the characteristic features of English copies of the Consolatio and with
them the probable features of the book before the translator of the Old English
Boethius, overviewing the transmission and nature of the scholarly apparatus, i.e.
the accessus material and more importantly the glosses usually present in copies of
the Consolatio. The focus will then turn to select passages in the Boethius to show
how it assimilates the workings of this scholarly apparatus into the translator’s
prose. The passages chosen show the translator reading like a glossator as he draws
on prefatory material, expands and explains words and phrases in the Latin, works
through aspects of the Consolatio’s argument that are particularly difficult, and
comes up against probable shortcomings in his source. Although each moment
 translation as gloss 209

discussed below will be contextualized against the Latin manuscript tradition,

this study is not meant to be comprehensive. The Old English translator’s use
(or not) of information known to be translated in the Latin manuscripts will
inevitably be visible in these analyses, but the manuscripts will be used more
to demonstrate the kinds of interpretations available to the translator than to
discuss his reliance on them.
The Old English translator’s notion of the text proper of the Consolatio was
a function of its manuscript presentation. Manuscripts of the Consolatio often
begin with prefatory materials rather than with the text of Consolatio itself. The
most common accessus material is an account of Boethius’ life, but manuscripts
may contain other such materials as well, as in Oxford, Corpus Christi College
MS 74, Gneuss/Lapidge no. 671, which opens with two separate uitae, a treatise
and diagram on philosophy, Atticus’ Epistola formata, and Lupus of Ferrière’s De
metris Boethii.14 In most manuscripts, the main text of the Consolatio includes
both interlinear and marginal glosses. The nature of a gloss is to explain, clarify,
or otherwise annotate a specific word or group of words.15 For this reason, glosses
tend to engage with the text in a localized way, and even a gloss that deals with a
general topic is prompted by a specific lemma. Because interlinear and marginal
glosses are often both present on any given page of an early medieval manuscript
of the Consolatio, the text presented is not the clean text seen in a modern edition
but rather some version of that clean text embedded in a complex of separately
functioning and possibly countervailing annotations. Moreover, these annotations
accompanying (often encrusting) the text may be written by more than one hand
and may be unevenly distributed throughout the text. For a reader presented
with a glossed copy of the Consolatio, the process of reading would be more
strongly directed to unravelling individual complications or explaining details
in the text than to engaging its global arguments and implications. In a textual
and intellectual culture that commonly eschewed large-scale critical questions
in favour of such local interventions, the Old English translator would almost
certainly not have treated his source as logically coherent or argumentatively
consistent in the way assumed by some accounts of his philosophy.16 As I will
illustrate below, the Old English translator is not consistent in either the amount
or the kind of attention he pays the Consolatio even from passage to passage.
A corollary problem for any study of the Boethius’ relationship to the glosses
is that the term ‘glossed manuscripts of the Consolatio’ refers to a set of books
that differ significantly from one another. The glossing tradition’s heterogeneity
makes it difficult to assess qua tradition, and in fact, it is precisely in its
heterogeneity that this tradition is best described. The glosses to the Consolatio
are traditionally attributed to the ninth-century scholar Remigius of Auxerre.17
However, even glosses that may largely be attributed to a single person or
institution themselves incorporate earlier scholarly sources, and the Remigian
210 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

commentaries draw on a wide range of sources.18 Rosalind Love concludes

that it is ‘immaterial’ that the glosses are sometimes incorrect or contradict
one another, finding that ‘before 1100 it does not appear possible to identify a
consistent and systematic programme [of glossing]’.19 She describes further how
copies of the Consolatio contain ‘intertwined layers of annotation’ that ‘transmit
the work of earlier glossators from diverse sources’.20 Multiple recensions of the
Remigian glosses on the Consolatio exist and are forthcoming in an edition by
Malcolm Godden, Rohini Jayatilaka, and Rosalind Love.21 When it is possible
to know the origin of any one set of glosses, they are usually attributable to an
institution rather than an individual; such is the case of the glosses to Aldhelm’s
Prosa de uirginitate, which appear to have originated in either Canterbury or
Glastonbury.22 Consolatio manuscripts also often do not contain a consistent
number of glosses from beginning to end. Like many early medieval glossed
manuscripts, English copies of the Consolatio have a tendency to be less heavily
glossed at the end of the text than at the beginning.23
However, even a set of clearly related glosses that emerged within a single
institution may be less self-similar than they appear. As John Marenbon writes,
‘different copies of the “same” set of glosses vary, not simply in their selection
of glosses, but in the very level of interpretation they lend to their text’.24
Glosses often changed in the course of transmission, becoming abbreviated or,
alternatively, accreting to a text in layers.25 Material factors also affected the way a
scribe copied the glossed text before him. For example, some manuscripts simply
do not have space for extensive glossing. The leaves of Cambridge, University
Library MS Gg.5.35, Gneuss/Lapidge no. 12, are relatively small, with dimensions
of 213 mm × 145 mm. With a writing surface of 184 mm × 110 mm, there is
little room for marginal glossing, and the scribe adapts by shortening glosses,
placing what are usually marginal glosses in the interlinear space or leaving
them out altogether.26 One striking example comes with the ‘anchor gloss’,
whose relationship to the Old English translation is discussed below. In II, pr.
iv, many manuscripts associated with Anglo-Saxon England contain a long gloss
to the word anchorae (‘anchors’), explaining what an anchor is and that, in this
instance, ‘anchor’ is a metaphor for Boethius’ friends. The scribe of Gg.5.35 notes
in the margin that this term is meant ‘metaforice’, but he quotes only part of
the usual gloss and does so in the interlinear space, running continuously from
one line to the next: ‘quia sicut nauis anchora. sic et ille sustentatione amicorum
retinebatur et saluabitur’.27 This scribe has retained the usual marginal annotation
remarking upon anchorae as a metaphor, but faced with an inadequate margin,
he has rendered the meat of this gloss’s etymological explanation between the
lines and left out the etymological explanation of anchora often found in this
gloss. Such variation among glosses affects the way a specific passage is read or
even can be read, providing different readers with more or less interpretative
 translation as gloss 211

help. Over the course of the text, the accumulation of such variations can shape
significantly the text available to a given reader.
The nature of the evidence makes it difficult or perhaps impossible to
establish the exact nature of the Old English translator’s exemplar, but surviving
manuscripts of the Consolatio allow us to infer the general features and kinds
of readings his exemplar probably had. Due to the variety in the extent,
distribution, and origin of the glosses any one copy of the Consolatio contains,
the arguments for various levels of glossarial influence are not necessarily so
mutually contradictory as they might seem, especially when they base their
analysis on a single passage or a narrowly restricted set of passages. There is no
reason why the exemplar of the Old English Boethius might not have transmitted
Remigian glosses at some points and not others or why the glosses available to
the translator would be wholly familiar to us from existing manuscript sources.
Although William of Malmesbury thought that the Old English translator used
a paraphrase of the Consolatio prepared by Asser, he undoubtedly relies on a
glossed manuscript of the Consolatio.28 As will be seen, he sometimes agrees
with extant glosses and sometimes does not. When he does not, his readings
may come from other sources, or they may be his own. It is for this reason
uncertain exactly what the translator’s reliance on a glossed manuscript would
have meant in terms of the availability of specific information or readings to
him; the fact that he does not use a specific gloss does not necessarily imply that
it was not present in the manuscript before him. Nevertheless, both the mode
of reading available to him and his own use of this mode can be ascertained to
some degree by comparison of his translation to those manuscript copies of the
Consolatio still extant.
The Old English translator’s treatment of the uitae Boethii is illustrative of
the way he incorporates the accreted scholarly apparatus of the Consolatio into
the text itself. Although the details and content of these uitae vary from one
manuscript to another, many copies of the Consolatio begin with an account of
Boethius’ life and works.29 In manuscripts containing accessus material, this uita
is the first item of the text, followed by either the first metre of the Consolatio
or more prefatory materials. Where present, these materials frequently include
further uitae or a metrical treatise, as in Oxford, Corpus Christi College MS 74,
discussed above. The Old English Boethius provides its own prefatory material in
the form of the Alfredian proem and the table of contents, although the proem,
at least in its current form, is a later addition to the original translation.30 This
table of contents is prefatory not only to the Old English translation of the
Consolatio but also to what is itself prefatory material in the Latin manuscripts.
The text proper of the Old English Boethius begins after the contents, with a
historical introduction describing Boethius’ life and imprisonment that closely
parallels the uitae Boethii.31 This uita is also the first item listed in the table of
212 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

contents, which does not distinguish the uita from the first metre or the other
chapters that follow. It simply marks the uita with an initial capital, just as it
does the other chapters of the Boethius. The uita and many of the chapters that
follow in the main text are also set off in the same way, with an initial capital
(or a space for an initial capital that was never drawn), thus eliding the potential
distinction between them. That this uita is treated as an integral part of the
Old English text implies that its translator considered the uita Boethii to be an
integral part of the text of the Consolatio, no less important to its understanding
than the philosophical argumentation and verse that follow.
When rendering the Consolatio itself, the Old English translator frequently
adapts individual words and phrases in his source in much the same way as the
glossators do, interpreting and explaining them as he goes. In II, pr. iv of the
Consolatio, for example, Philosophia informs Boethius that few people are happy
with the state of their worldly fortune. She reminds him to think of his family,
who are both safe and concerned for his well-being. She begins by describing
his father-in-law: ‘uiget incolumis illud pretiosissimum generis humani decus
Symmachus socer et, quod uitae pretio non segnis emeres, uir totus ex sapientia
uirtutibusque factus, suarum securus tuis ingemiscit iniuriis’.32 The Old English
translates:
Hwæt, þu wast þæt seo duguð ealles moncynnes and þe se mæsta weorðscipe git
leofað, þæt is Simachus þin sweor. Hwæt, he is git hal and gesund and hæfð ælces
godes genog. Forþon ic wat þæt þu naht ne forslawodest þæt þu þin agen feorh
for hine ne sealdest gif þu hine gesawe on hwilcum earfoðum; forþam se wer is
wisdomes and cræfta full and genog orsorg nu git ælces eorðlices eges. Se is swiðe
sarig for þinum earfoðum and for ðinum wræcsiðe.33

Where the Latin says that Boethius would give his life to be ‘wholly formed in
wisdom and virtue’, the Old English says that Boethius would give his life for
his father-in-law. This interpretation agrees with some manuscripts’ glosses to this
passage, which note: ‘Quia uitam tuam etiam pro illius salute dares’.34 Elsewhere
in this passage, the translator clarifies the syntax of the Latin in the same way as
the glosses without relying on any known gloss. In such cases, he appears to be
reading in the style of the glosses rather than borrowing directly from them. The
Latin manuscripts contain a suppletive gloss, i.e. a gloss containing supplementary
grammatical information,35 to the Latin ‘suarum’ to explain that ‘iniuriarum’
are meant here.36 The antecedent of ‘suarum’ is not otherwise obvious from the
context of the sentence, and the Old English translator likewise provides an
antecedent for this term by explaining that Symmachus is free ‘ælces eorðlices
eges’. The translator even mimics the effect of a gloss where none is necessary or
indeed present in the Latin manuscripts. The Latin describes Symmachus: ‘illud
pretiosissimum generis humani decus Symmachus socer’.37 The phrases ‘illud
 translation as gloss 213

pretiosissimum … decus’ and ‘Symmachus socer’ are in apposition, forming the

subject of the sentence. However, the Old English translator treats ‘Symmachus
socer’ as a gloss on ‘illud decus’, explaining ‘þæt is Simachus þin sweor’.38 This
translation works in the exact manner of a gloss, whose form often takes ‘s.’
(probably for ‘scilicet’) or ‘.i.’ (for ‘id est’) followed by the clarifying word or
words.39 The translator adds ‘þæt is’, the Old English equivalent of ‘.i.’, to the
text here, using ‘Symmachus’ to clarify the abstract phrase ‘seo duguð … and
þe se mæsta weorðscipe’. The translator thus clarifies and develops this passage
for his vernacular readers just as the glossators do in marginal comments, and
he can be seen to do so even when he does not appear to be relying on glosses
for specific interpretations. In this passage, the Old English translator not only
incorporates some Latin glosses into his own text but also tackles the main text
in the same mode as the glosses suggest.
The most striking example of the translator’s glossarial mode of reading
comes in his treatment of a metaphor at the end of the passage. After discussing
Boethius’ wife and sons in terms similar to those used of Symmachus, Philosophia
tells Boethius to dry his tears: ‘nondum est ad unum omnes exosa fortuna nec
tibi nimium ualida tempestas incubuit, quando tenaces haerent ancorae quae
nec praesentis solamen nec futuri spem temporis abesse patiantur’.40 The Old
English translation is:
Ne eart þu no eallunga to nauhte gedon swa swa þu wenst. Nis þe nu git nan
unaberendlic broc getenge, forþam þe ðin ancor is git on eorðan fæst, þæt sint þa
ealdormen þe we ær ymbe spræcon. Þa þe ne lætað geortreowan be ðis andweardan
life; and eft þina agna treowa and seo godcunde lufu and se tohopa, þa ðreo ne
lætað geortrewan be þam ecan life.41

The translator here treats the anchor metaphor at some length, as do many
glossed manuscripts. One unusually lengthy but commonly attested gloss to the
word ‘ancorae’ describes first what an anchor is, ‘dens ferreus nauis qui iacitur
in mare ad nauem retinendam’, before explaining that it is a metaphor for
Symmachus, Boethius’ wife, and his sons.42 This gloss goes on to say that this
is a metaphor about a shipwreck and finally to describe the Greek etymology
of ancora. The scribe of Cambridge, University Library MS Kk.3.21, Gneuss/
Lapidge no. 23, has additionally blazoned the word ‘METAPHORAM’ in capitals
and colour to emphasize the presence here of a rhetorical figure that requires
interpretation.43 The Old English translator too recognizes ‘ancorae’ as a figure
requiring interpretation, turning it into a lemma by introducing his reading with
the glossarial phrase ‘þæt sint’. However, his treatment of the term is unusual. As
Malcolm Godden and Susan Irvine note, ‘Wisdom seems to specify by ealdormen
just the sons and perhaps Symmachus.’44 Godden and Irvine point to a parallel
from Rome, Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, lat. 3363, which glosses
214 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

the passage ‘de summacho et de filiis dicit’.45 Even if the translator had this
or a similar gloss before him, his enumeration of the theological virtues is his
own addition to the text.46 Like many of the Latin glossators, the Old English
translator has explained the metaphor of the anchor at length, but where the
glossators define ancora, the tenor of this metaphor, and then proceed to various
linguistic explanations of it, the Old English translator explains the tenor briefly
before using it as a basis for moral instruction. Throughout this passage, the
translator changes the text of the Consolatio significantly, but he does so through
a series of modifications that are both specific and limited, triggered by moments
in the Consolatio in much the same way as a glossator’s response to the text.
However, the accumulation of these kinds of small adaptations and expansions
can form the basis for profound changes to the argumentation of the Consolatio.
The translator’s treatment of the relationship between divine providence and fate
in chapter 39 demonstrates this possibility. The source IV, pr. vi, which explains
the relationship between God’s foreknowledge and fate, is one of the Consolatio’s
most important passages on this subject. The thrust of the argument follows:
[N]am prouidentia est ipsa illa diuina ratio in summo omnium principe constituta,
quae cuncta disponit, fatum uero inhaerens rebus mobilibus dispositio, per quam
prouidentia suis quaeque nectit ordinibus. Prouidentia namque cuncta pariter
quamuis diuersa quamuis infinita complectitur, fatum uero singula digerit in motum
locis, formis ac temporibus distributa, ut haec temporalis ordinis explicatio, in
diuinae mentis adunata prospectum, prouidentia sit, eadem uero adunatio, digesta
atque explicata temporibus, fatum uocetur.47

Here God is a simplicity whose knowledge embraces everything that exists, and
fate is merely a ‘disposition inherent in movable things’. There is a logical problem:
if God is an unmoving simplicity, how can he arrange movable things? If God
is atemporal, how can he operate within time? The resulting binary between
an unmovable, atemporal God and his movable, temporal creation cannot be
adequately mediated within the cosmology that is imagined here. The best the
Consolatio can do is to suggest some agents who might perform this mediation
without claiming that any one of them actually does enact or enforce the will
of providence: ‘diuinis spiritibus … seu anima seu tota inseruiente natura seu
caelestibus siderum motibus seu angelica uirtute seu daemonum uaria sollertia
seu aliquibus horum seu omnibus’.48 Despite the importance and difficulty of
this argument, most Latin manuscripts contain relatively little glossing here. The
glosses that do appear mostly help the reader construct the Latin sentences by
providing interpretatively useful information such as grammatical antecedents
or lexical glosses, leaving the philosophical work to the reader.
The Old English translator does not exhibit the same argumentative
ambivalence as his source. Where the Latin, just before the passage quoted above,
explains of the divine mind that ‘[h]aec in suae simplicitatis arce composita [est]’,
 translation as gloss 215

the Old English reads: ‘Se God wunað simle on þære hean ceastre his anfealdnesse
and bilewitnesse’.49 In Consolatio manuscripts, ‘haec’ often receives a suppletive
gloss clarifying that its antecedent is ‘diuina mens’.50 The Old English translator,
on the other hand, has rendered it with ‘se God’, clarifying the antecedent of
the Latin term but also changing it. The ‘diuina mens’ of the Latin glossators is
firmly placed (‘composita’) in his citadel, but the Old English translator’s God
dwells (‘wunað’) there. Composita avoids ascribing temporal duration to its subject
as nearly as possible. However, dwelling is an action that requires a space in
which to dwell and may begin or end, here taking the adverb always (‘simle’)
to clarify that God’s dwelling neither begins nor ends.51 Whatever the source
of the translator’s ideas, this personified God intervenes directly in creation:
Be þy mæg ælc mon witan þæt hit sint ægþer ge twegen naman ge twa þing,
foreþonc and wyrd. Se foreþonc is sio godcunde gesceadwisnes; sio is fæst on
þam hean sceoppende þe all forewat hu hit geweorðan sceal ær ær hit geweorðe.
Ac þæt þæt we wyrd hatað, þæt bið Godes weorc þe he ælce dæg wyrcð, ægþer ge
þæs ðe we geseoð ge þæs þe ungesewenlic bið.52

The Old English translator retains the Consolatio’s distinction between providence
and fate, using the term ‘foreþonc’ for ‘prouidentia’ and the term ‘wyrd’ for
‘fatum’.53 The Latin says that providence ‘cuncta disponit’, again treating the
method and manner of this disposition as circumspectly as possible. The Old
English translator, however, frames this disposition in explicitly temporal terms.
As in the Latin, providence is divine reason, but the translator does not say
that providence disposes things. Instead, he appends a relative clause explaining
that divine reason is in God, who ‘all forewat hu hit geweorðan sceal ær ær
hit geweorðe’. Where the Consolatio describes fate as a disposition inherent in
movable things, the Old English translator says simply that it is ‘Godes weorc
þe he ælce dæg wyrcð’. Fate is God’s personal work; in contrast to the abstract
description of the source, the language here suggests that it is God’s daily labour
to enact his providence in the world. The distinction made in the Boethius is
thus not between the simplicity of divine foreknowledge and the multiplicity of
worldly occurrence but rather between what God knows from all eternity and
what is enacted in the present.
The Old English translator is similarly confident about the means by which
God performs his work. Where the Consolatio, still troubled by the unmediated
binary between God and creation, gives an uncertain list of agents who might
enact providence, the translator states in positive terms: ‘Đa wyrd he þonne wyrcð
oððe þurh þa godan englas oððe þurh monna sawla oððe þurh oðerra gesceafta
lif oððe þurh heofenes tungl oððe þurh þara scuccena mislice lotwrencas, hwilum
þurh an þara, hwilum þurh eall þa.’54 In addition to stating that these agents are
in fact how God works his will in the world, the Old English translator makes a
number of changes at the lexical level. The ‘spiritus’ of the Latin become ‘godan
216 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

englas’, a reading that is paralleled in Latin glosses.55 The translator understands

the Neoplatonic world soul (‘anima’) to mean the souls of men, which he
contrasts to ‘oðerra gesceafta lif ’ rather than the Consolatio’s ‘tota inseruiente
natura’. Godden and Irvine observe that the translator’s ‘oðerra reflects his
interpretation of anima as men’s souls, requiring natura to represent the non-
human part of creation’.56 This translation also removes the opposition between
the incorporeal world-soul and the corporeal natura. The ‘caelestibus siderum
motibus’ are translated fairly closely. A common gloss on this phrase admonishes
Boethius for his heretical notion that the stars can enact fatum; the Old English
translator either lacks this gloss or has no problem with the idea. Although it
is uncertain whether the Consolatio originally meant ‘devils’ or simply ‘spirits’
by daemones, glosses sometimes specify that it means ‘malignorum spirituum’.57
The Old English translator’s ‘þara scuccena mislice lotwrencas’ similarly places
these daemones firmly within a Christian cosmology. The Consolatio ends its list
of possible agents with ‘seu aliquibus’, leaving the question open. The translator
is yet again more definite than his source, writing that God effects fate ‘hwilum
þurh an þara, hwilum þurh eall þa’. The Old English translator makes far-reaching
changes here to the Consolatio’s presentation of providence and fate that resolve
this impasse in the Consolatio. However, he does so by changing individual words
and by expanding or clarifying individual expressions rather than by discarding
his source text or revising it wholesale. He does it, in other words, in precisely
the same manner as a scholar writing glosses might, and he incorporates this
expansion or interpretation into the translated text.
In IV, pr. vii, the next prose following the previous example, the Old English
translator eschews the kinds of detailed interpretative revisions seen previously in
favour of drawing out the tropological force of the Latin. Philosophia explains
to Boethius that all things work to the good: ‘Omnem, inquit, bonam prorsus
esse fortunam … Cum omnis fortuna uel iacunda uel aspera tum remunerandi
exercendiue bonos tum puniendi corrigendiue improbos causa deferatur, omnis
bona, quam uel iustam constat esse uel utilem’.58 The Old English version reads:
Ic wille secgan þæt ælc wyrd bio god, sam hio monnum god þince, sam hio him
yfel þince … Nis þæs nan twy þæt ælc wyrd bioð god þara þe riht and nytwyrðe
bioð. Forþæm ælc wyrd, sam hio sie wynsum sam hio sie unwynsum, forþi cymð
to þon godon þæt hio oðer twega do, oððe hine þreatige to þon þæt he bet do
þonne he ær dyde oððe him leanige þæt he ær tela dyde. And eft ælc wyrd þara
þe to þam yflum cymð, cymð for þam twam þingum, sam hio sie reðe sam hio
sie wynsum. Gif to þam yflum cymð reðu wyrd, þonne cymð hio to edleane his
yfla oððe to þreatunge and to lare þæt he get swa ne do.59

The translator follows the Latin text quite closely here. When he intervenes, it
is in the manner of expansions that make the argument of the Latin easier to
understand. He first adds to Philosophia’s statement that every kind of fortune
218 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

NOTES
I thank Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe, Evan Wilson, my anonymous peer reviewer, and the
editors at Medium Ævum for their generous comments and questions upon earlier drafts
of this article. For their patient help and for allowing me access to their collections, I
thank the librarians of the Bodleian Library; the British Library; the Cambridge University
Library; Corpus Christi College, Oxford; and Merton College, Oxford.
1
  Jerome McGann describes the latter process as ‘radial reading’ in The Textual Condition
(Princeton, NJ, 1991), pp. 119–22.
2
  Concerning the nature of these glosses, see Rosalind Love, ‘The Latin commentaries
on Boethius’s De consolatione Philosophiae from the ninth to the eleventh centuries’, in
A Companion to Boethius in the Middle Ages, ed. P. Phillips and N. H. Kaylor (Leiden,
2012), pp. 75–133, and ‘Latin commentaries on Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy’, in
A Companion to Alfred the Great, ed. Nicole Guenther Discenza and Paul E. Szarmach
(Leiden, 2015), pp. 82–110. See also Malcolm Godden and Rohini Jayatilaka, ‘Counting
the heads of the hydra: the development of the early medieval commentary on Boethius’s
Consolation of Philosophy’, in Carolingian Scholarship and Martianus Capella: Ninth-Century
Commentary Traditions on De nuptiis in Context, ed. Mariken Teeuwen and Sinéad
O’Sullivan (Turnhout, 2011), pp. 363–76.
3
  Martin Irvine, The Making of Textual Culture: ‘Grammatica’ and Literary Theory, 350–1100
(Cambridge, 1994), pp. 391 and 390.
4
  Rita Copeland, Rhetoric, Hermeneutics, and Translation in the Middle Ages: Academic
Traditions and Vernacular Texts (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 63–86.
5
  Robert Stanton studies the global translation theory of the Alfredian project: The Culture
of Translation in Anglo-Saxon England (Cambridge, 2002), pp. 55–100. The Old English
Boethius survives in two main versions, one prose and one prosimetric. The prosimetric
C Text is probably an adaptation of the prose translation seen in the B Text found in
Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodley 180 and printed in The Old English Boethius: An Edition
of the Old English Version of Boethius’s De consolatione Philosophiae, ed. Malcolm Godden
and Susan Irvine, 2 vols (Oxford, 2009); concerning the transmission history of the Old
English translation, see I, 44–8. Because the focus of this article is on the relationship
of the Boethius to its source rather than its rhetoric or later reception in Anglo-Saxon
England, all references here will be to the earlier B Text. On the question of the Boethius’
traditional attribution to King Alfred, see Malcolm Godden, ‘Did King Alfred write
anything?’, MÆ, 76/1 (2007), 1–23. Godden has most recently treated the question in
‘Alfredian prose: myth and reality’, Filologia Germanica, 5 (2013), 131–58 (pp. 134f.). For
a full-length study of the Boethius translation, see Nicole Guenther Discenza, The King’s
English: Strategies of Translation in the Old English Boethius (Albany, NY, 2005).
6
  Pierre Courcelle, La Consolation de Philosophie dans la tradition littéraire (Paris, 1967), pp.
241–99. However, Adrian Papahagi has shown that the first serious scholar of the Consolatio
was probably Theodulf of Orléans: ‘The transmission of the Consolatio Philosophiae in the
Carolingian age’, in his Boethiana Medievalia: A Collection of Studies on the Early Medieval
Fortune of Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy (Bucharest, 2010), pp. 16–36 (pp. 32–6).
7
  See the summary provided by Nicole Guenther Discenza, ‘Boethius, the Consolation of
Philosophy (Cameron B.9.3)’, Fontes Anglo-Saxonici: The World Wide Web Register, <http://
 translation as gloss 219

fontes.english.ox.ac.uk>, accessed 3 July 2015. Suggested sources include Isidore of Seville,

a lost commentary or encyclopedic source, and classical authors. See respectively Hilary
E. Fox, ‘Isidore of Seville and the Old English Boethius’, MÆ, 83/1 (2014), 49–59; Klaus
Grinda, ‘Zu Tradition und Gestaltung des Kirke-Mythos in König Alfreds Boethius’, in
Motive und Themen in englischsprachiger Literatur als indikatoren literaturgeschichtlicher
Prozesse. Festschrift zum 65, Geburtstag von Theodor Wolpers, ed. Heinz-Joachim Müllenbrock
and Alfons Klein (Tübingen, 1990), pp. 1–22, reprinted with updated notes as ‘The myth
of Circe in King Alfred’s Boethius’, trans. Paul Battles, in Old English Prose: Basic Readings,
ed. Paul E. Szarmach (New York and London, 2000), pp. 237–65; and Janet Bately, ‘“Those
books that are most necessary for all men to know”: the classics and late ninth-century
England, a reappraisal’, in The Classics in the Middle Ages: Papers of the Twentieth Annual
Conference of the Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, ed. Aldo S. Bernaldo
and Saul Levin (Binghamton, NY, 1990), pp. 45–78.
8
 Georg Schepss, ‘Zu König Alfreds “Boethius”’, Archiv für das Studium der neueren
Sprachen und Literaturen, 94 (1895), 149–60.
9
  The bibliography is enormous, but the foundational works are Kurt Otten, König Alfreds
Boethius (Tübingen, 1964); Courcelle, La Consolation de Philosophie, pp. 267–70; and
Joseph S. Wittig, ‘King Alfred’s Boethius and its Latin sources: a reconsideration’, ASE,
11 (1983), 157–98. More recently, see Malcolm Godden, ‘Alfred, Asser, and Boethius’, in
Latin Learning and English Lore: Studies in Anglo-Saxon Literature for Michael Lapidge, ed.
Katherine O’Brien O’Keeffe and Andy Orchard (Toronto, 2005), I, 326–48, and Adrian
Papahagi, ‘The wheel of fate metaphor in the Old English Boethius’, in his Boethiana
Medievalia, pp. 141–77.
10
  Paul E. Szarmach, ‘Alfred’s Boethius and the four cardinal virtues’, in Alfred the Wise:
Studies in Honour of Janet Bately on the Occasion of her Sixty-Fifth Birthday, ed. Jane
Roberts, Janet L. Nelson, and Malcolm Godden (Cambridge, 1997), pp. 223–35 (p. 224).
11
  On the way early medieval glossators approached their work at the level of lectio, see
Anna Grotans, Reading in Medieval St. Gall (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 158–97.
12
 M. B. Parkes classes both interlinear and marginal glosses as enarratio, ‘what was
necessary to clarify a text in order to understand it’. See his ‘Rædan, areccan, smeagan:
how the Anglo-Saxons read’, ASE, 26 (1997), 1–22 (p. 10). That he and Grotans disagree
on the boundaries between lectio and enarratio is indicative of the potential fluidity of
these categories; all enarratio is predicated upon and involves the practice of lectio. On
marginal glosses to the Consolatio, see the discussion by Love, ‘The Latin commentaries’,
pp. 79–81. For broader discussion of the vernacular and glossing, see Suzanne Reynolds,
Medieval Reading: Grammar, Rhetoric and the Classical Text (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 61–72,
and Grotans, Reading in Medieval St. Gall, pp. 39–47.
13
  Louis Holtz, ‘La Typologie des manuscrits grammaticaux latins’, Revue d’histoire des
textes, 7 (1977), 247–69 (pp. 258f.).
14
  For references and a detailed description, see R. M. Thomson, A Descriptive Catalogue
of the Medieval Manuscripts of Corpus Christi College Oxford (Cambridge, 2011), pp. 39f.
15
  This is true of glosses by definition; see Gernot Wieland, The Latin Glosses on Arator and
Prudentius in Cambridge University Library MS Gg.5.35 (Toronto, 1983), p. 7: ‘“Gloss” in
this study denotes any one or more words, letters, and symbols, written in the margin or
between the lines of the text, i.e., anything on a page which is not text proper, but which
220 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

is intended to comment on the text.’ How exactly such annotations were used by readers
has been a matter of debate. Some scholars argue that glosses were used in classrooms.
So Gernot R. Wieland, ‘The glossed manuscript: classbook or library book?’, ASE, 14
(1985), 153–73; and Janine Larmon Peterson, ‘Defining a textbook: gloss versus gloss in a
medieval schoolbook’, Essays in Medieval Studies, 20 (2003), 18–30. However, this view has
been qualified in an important publication by Michael Lapidge, ‘The study of Latin texts
in late Anglo-Saxon England’, in his Anglo-Latin Literature 600–899 (London, 1996), pp.
455–98 and 516. See also Mariken Teeuwen’s remarks on glosses as a kind of scholarship
in her ‘Marginal scholarship: rethinking the function of Latin glosses in early medieval
manuscripts’, in Rethinking and Recontextualizing Glosses: New Perspectives in the Study
of Late Anglo-Saxon Glossography, ed. Patrizia Lendinara, Loredana Lazzari, and Claudia
DiSciacca (Porto, 2011), pp. 19–37 (pp. 23–30).
16
  One influential such study is that of F. Anne Payne, King Alfred & Boethius: An Analysis
of the Old English Version of the Consolation of Philosophy (Madison, Wis., 1968). On
argumentative inconsistency in the Consolatio itself, see John Marenbon, who argues
that the text is a ‘complex whole, made up of a variety of arguments (as will emerge, not
always consistent with each other)’, Boethius (Oxford, 2003), p. 96.
17
 Courcelle, La Consolation de Philosophie, pp. 267–70.
18
  Bolton, ‘Remigian commentaries on the “Consolation of Philosophy” and their sources’,
Traditio, 33 (1977), 381–94.
19
  Love, ‘Latin commentaries on Boethius’s De consolatione Philosophiae’, pp. 78 and 125.
20
  Ibid., p. 98. See further Malcolm Godden, ‘Glosses to the Consolation of Philosophy
in late Anglo-Saxon England: their origins and uses’, in Rethinking and Recontextualizing
Glosses, ed. Lendinara, Lazzari, and DiSciacca, pp. 67–92.
21
  Diane K. Bolton, ‘The study of the Consolation of Philosophy in Anglo-Saxon England’,
AHDLMA, 44 (1977), 33–78 (pp. 39f.). See also Wittig, ‘The “Remigian” glosses on Boethius’s
Consolatio Philosophiae in context’, in Source of Wisdom: Old English and Early Medieval
Latin Studies in Honour of Thomas D. Hill, ed. Charles D. Wright, Frederick M. Biggs,
and Thomas N. Hall (Toronto, 2007), pp. 168–200 (pp. 171–3 and 183).
22
 See Scott Gwara, ‘Manuscripts of Aldhelm’s “Prosa de virginitate” and the rise of
hermeneutic literacy in tenth-century England’, Studi medievali, 3rd ser. 35/1 (1994), 101–59.
23
 However, Rosalind Love writes that glossing in Consolatio manuscripts in general,
especially toward the end of the tenth century (after the Boethius was translated), tends
not to trail off: ‘Latin commentaries on Boethius’s Consolation of Philosophy’, pp. 83f.
24
  John Marenbon, From the Circle of Alcuin to the School of Auxerre: Logic, Theology and
Philosophy in the Early Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1981), p. 116.
25
 On abbreviation, see Philip G. Rusche, ‘Isidore’s Etymologiae and the Canterbury
Aldhelm Scholia’, JEGP, 104/4 (2005), 437–55 (pp. 443f.). On accretion, see Godden,
‘Alfred, Asser, and Boethius’, pp. 330–7.
26
  This observation is my own, but for a physical description of this manuscript, see A.
G. Rigg and G. R. Wieland, ‘A Canterbury classbook of the mid-eleventh century (the
“Cambridge Songs” manuscript)’, ASE, 4 (1975), 113–30 (pp. 113–19).
27
  ‘Metaphorically’; ‘just as the anchor of a ship, so also he is held fast and saved by the
support of his friends’. Cambridge, University Library MS Gg.5.35, 179r. See n. 42 for the
full text and translation of this gloss as it is attested in other manuscripts.
 translation as gloss 221

28
  Old English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 59–61.
29
 For editions of some of these vitae, see Anicii Manlii Seuerini Boethii philosophiae
consolationis libri quinque accedunt eiusdem atque incertorum opuscula sacra, ed. Rudolf
Peiper (Leipzig, 1871), pp. xxix–xxxv.
30
  Nicole Guenther Discenza, ‘Alfred the Great and the anonymous prose proem to the
Boethius’, JEGP, 107/1 (2008), 57–76.
31
  Old English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 243f., ch. 1. On the translator’s use of
the vitae Boethii as a source, see John H. Brinegar, ‘“Books most necessary”: the literary
and cultural contexts of Alfred’s Boethius’ (unpub. Ph.D. diss., University of North
Carolina at Chapel Hill, 2000), pp. 100–5; see also the discussion in Old English Boethius,
ed. Godden and Irvine, II, 248f. As with the glosses, the precise source relationship is
uncertain. On the translator’s possible synthesis of multiple vitae and the ends to which
he might have done so, see Nicole Guenther Discenza, ‘The unauthorized biographies
of Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, delivered at the First Annual Symposium of the
Alfredian Boethius Project, University of Oxford, July 2003, retrieved from <http://www.
english.ox.ac.uk/boethius/Symposium2003.html>, accessed 3 July 2015.
32
 ‘Consider first the undiminished vigour of your father-in-law Symmachus, that
glory of the human race beyond price. You would readily give your life to be that total
personification of wisdom and the virtues that he embodies. Without thought for the
indignities which he himself suffers, he laments over yours.’ Boethius: De consolatione
Philosophiae: opuscula theologica, ed. Claudio Moreschini, 2nd edn (Munich, 2005), II,
pr. iv, 5, p. 37. Translations of the main text of the Consolatio are taken from P. G. Walsh,
Boethius: The Consolation of Philosophy (Oxford, 1999).
33
  ‘For look, you know that the honour of all mankind and the greatest honour to you is
still living, that is Symmachus your father-in-law. He is still healthy and sound and has
enough of every good; for I know that you would not hesitate to give your own life for
him if you saw him in any difficulty; for that man is full of wisdom and virtues and free
enough still of all earthly fear. He is very sorry for your hardships and for your exile.’ Old
English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 259, ch. 10. Translations of the Old English
Boethius are Godden and Irvine’s.
34
  ‘Because you would even give your life for his health’. Old English Boethius, ed. Godden
and Irvine, II, 290. When Godden and Irvine edit or discuss a relevant gloss, it will be
cited from the commentary to their edition.
35
  See Wieland, Latin Glosses, pp. 109–43.
36
 ‘Troubles’.
37
  ‘Your father-in-law Symmachus, that glory of the human race beyond price’.
38
  ‘That is Symmachus your father-in-law’.
39
  On these glosses and their meaning, see Wieland, Latin Glosses, p. 12.
40
  ‘Fortune does not yet direct her hatred against all your household. The storm which
has gathered over you is not too hard to endure, for your anchors still hold fast, and
their grip is such that they do not allow present consolation or future hope to disappear.’
Boethius, ed. Moreschini, II, pr. iv, 9, pp. 37f.
41
  ‘You are not wholly reduced to nothing as you think. There is no intolerable affliction
affecting you, for your anchor is still fixed in the ground, that is, the high officials that
we spoke about before. They will not let you despair about this present life; and also
222 MEDIUM ÆVUM LXXXVI.2

your own faith and the divine love and hope, those three will not let you despair of the
eternal life.’ Old English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 260, ch. 10.
42
  A full or abbreviated version of this gloss appears in several manuscripts associated
with Anglo-Saxon England. The text and translation here are taken from Love’s discussion
of these manuscripts, ‘Latin commentaries on Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae’,
pp. 118f.: ‘Anchora est dens ferreus nauis qui iacitur in mare ad nauem retinendam.
Anchoras tenaces dicit quia quemadmodum retinetur nauis cum anchora ita et ille
sustentatione amicorum retinebatur et saluabatur. Scilicet Simachi et uxoris et filiorum
et METAPHORAM sumpsit ex naufragio. anchora dicta est e ethimologia greca quod
quasi manu hominis comprehendens scopulos uel arenas nauimque detineat. Nam cyra
grece manus inde anchora quasi manus ancha .i. curua.’ (‘An anchor is a ship’s iron tooth,
which is tossed into the sea to hold the ship fast. She says “tenacious anchors” because
just as a ship is held fast with an anchor, so also he is held fast and saved by the support
of his friends, namely of Symmachus and his wife and sons, and she takes the metaphor
from a shipwreck. An anchor is named from Greek etymology, because as if with a man’s
hand it grasps rocks or sands, and holds the ship fast. For χείρ in Greek means “hand”,
hence anchor is, as it were, hooked (that is curved) hand.’)
43
  Cambridge, University Library MS Kk.3.21, 22R. This scribe similarly points out other
rhetorical figures throughout the text.
44
  Old English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, II, 292.
45
  ‘It talks about Symmachus and his sons’, ibid. The translation is mine.
46
  This description of the cardinal virtues as anchoring the ship of the mind is paralleled
in the Old English Soliloquies, perhaps suggesting an Alfredian (or vernacular) motif.
See King Alfred’s Old English Version of St. Augustine’s Soliloquies, ed. Henry Lee Hargrove
(New York, 1902), 29.12–20; see also the discussion in Old English Boethius, ed. Godden
and Irvine, II, 292.
47
  ‘Providence is the divine reason itself, established within the highest originator of all
things, who disposes them all, whereas Fate is the order imposed on things that change,
through which Providence interlinks each and every object in their due arrangement.
Providence indeed embraces all things alike, however different and however boundless,
whereas Fate organizes the separate movement of individual things, and allocates them
according to place, shape, and time. Thus when this arrangement of the temporal order is
a unity within the foresight of the divine mind, it is Providence, whereas when that unity
is separated and unfolded at various times, it is called Fate.’ Boethius, ed. Moreschini,
IV, pr. vi, 9f., p. 122.
48
  ‘Divine spirits … [or] by the World-Soul, or by the obedience of the whole of nature,
or by the motions of the stars of heaven, or by the power of angels, or by the diverse
skills of demons, or by some or all of these’. Boethius, ed. Moreschini, IV, pr. vi, 13, p. 123.
49
  ‘Established in the citadel of its own oneness’. Boethius, ed. Moreschini, IV, pr. vi, 8, p.
122; ‘that God dwells always in the high city of his singleness and simplicity’, Old English
Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 362, ch. 39.
50
  ‘The divine mind’.
51
  The translator appears here to be thinking of the psalms, which sometimes describe the
city of God. Compare Psalm xlv.5, ‘Fluminis impetus laetificat ciuitatem Dei / sancticauit
tabernaculum suum Altissimus’ (‘The stream of the river maketh the city of God joyful:
 translation as gloss 223

the most High hath sanctified his own tabernacle’); Psalm xlvii.2, ‘Magnus Dominus et
laudabilis nimis / in ciuitate Dei nostri in monte sancto eius’ (‘Great is the Lord, and
exceedingly to be praised in the city of our God, in his holy mountain’); Psalm xlvii.9,
‘Sicut audiuimus sic uidimus / in ciuitate Domini uirtutum / in ciuitate Domini nostri
/ Deus fundauit eam in aeternum’ (‘As we have heard, so we have seen, in the city of the
Lord of hosts, in the city of our God: God hath founded it forever’); and Psalm lxxxvi.3,
‘Gloriosa dicta sunt de te ciuitas Dei’ (‘Glorious things are said of thee, O city of God’).
Biblical quotations are from Biblia sacra iuxta uulgatam uersionem, ed. Robert Weber, 2 vols
(Stuttgart, 1969), I, 824, 826, and 878. Translations are from the Douay-Rheims version.
52
 ‘From this everyone can perceive that they are both two names and two things,
providence and fate. Providence is the divine intelligence; it is fixed in the high creator
who fore-knows all, how it must turn out before it happens. But that which we call fate,
that is God’s work which he effects every day, both that which we see and that which is
invisible.’ Old English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 362, ch. 39.
53
  On the much discussed term wyrd as meaning ‘that which happens’, ‘outcome’, or
‘event’, see Mark Griffith, ‘Does wyrd bið ful aræd mean “Fate is wholly inexorable”?’,
in ‘Doubt Wisely’: Papers in Honour of E. G. Stanley, ed. M. J. Toswell and E. M. Tyler
(New York, 1996), pp. 133–56 (p. 137). Jerold C. Frakes argues that wyrd in the Boethius
is simply the state of one’s fortune, ‘an integral element in the divine system, subject to
God’, The Fate of Fortune in the Early Middle Ages: The Boethian Tradition (Leiden, 1988),
pp. 81–122 (p. 90).
54
  ‘He then effects fate either through the good angels or through men’s souls or through
the lives of other creatures or through heaven’s stars or through the various wiles of the
devils, sometimes through one of them, sometimes through all of them.’ Old English
Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 362, ch. 39.
55
  Ibid., II, 465.
56
 Ibid.
57
  ‘Wicked spirits’, ibid. On the daemones, see Joachim Gruber, Kommentar zu Boethius,
De consolatione philosophiae, 2nd edn (Berlin, 2006), pp. 349f.
58
  ‘[E]very fortune is indeed good … Since every fortune, pleasant or harsh, is bestowed
on the one hand to reward or to exercise the good, and on the other to punish or correct
the wicked, they are all of them good, for it is clear that they are either just or useful.’
Boethius, ed. Moreschini, IV, pr. vii, 2f., p. 131.
59
  ‘I want to say that all fate is good, whether men think it good or evil … There is no
doubt that every kind of fate that is just and useful is good. Every kind of fate, whether
it is pleasant or unpleasant, comes to the good man to do one of two things, either to
threaten him so that he does better than he did or to reward him because he did good
before. And again, every kind of fate that comes to the wicked, comes for one of two
things, whether it is harsh or pleasant. If harsh fate comes to the wicked then it comes
as a reward for his evils or as a threat and warning that he should not do so any more.’
Old English Boethius, ed. Godden and Irvine, I, 370, ch. 40.
60
  Godden, ‘Alfred, Asser, and Boethius’, p. 339.
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