Then did I rally my spirit until it was
strong again, and answered, “Does the savage bitterness of my fortune still
need recounting? Does it not stand forth plainly enough of itself?
“Does not the very aspect of this place
strike you? Is this the library that you had chosen for yourself as your sure
resting place in my house? Is this the room in which you would so often tarry
with me, expounding the philosophy of things human and divine?
“Was my condition like this, or my
countenance, when I probed with your aid the secrets of Nature, when you marked
out with a wand the courses of the stars, when you shaped our habits and the
rule of all our life by the pattern of the Universe?
“Are these the rewards we reap by
yielding ourselves to you? No, you yourself have established this saying by the
mouth of Plato, that commonwealths would be blessed if they were guided by
those who made wisdom their study, or if those who guided them would make
wisdom their study.
“By the mouth of that same great man
did you teach that this was the binding reason why a commonwealth should be
governed by philosophers, namely that the helm of government should not be left
to unscrupulous or criminal citizens, lest they should bring corruption and ruin
upon the good citizens.” . . .
—from
Book 1, Prose 4
Boethius’
grief has here made him indignant, even resentful. I can usually tell that my own
thinking is off balance when I respond to a question by saying something like
“isn’t it obvious?”
Bitter
sarcasm can also be a symptom of my closed mind and short temper. Lady
Philosophy had offered Boethius rest and comfort through the pursuit of wisdom,
and she had assured him that a life of virtue would provide the greatest
blessings. Apparently being attacked from all sides, the loss of position and
honor, and the approach of impending death are the fullness of that comfort and
blessing?
I think
it fitting that Boethius appeals to some of the arguments from Plato’s Republic, and I have also found myself
deeply affected by them. The Republic
is a sprawling text, touching on most every aspect of philosophy, but it grows
from a quest for the definition of justice, and proceeds by means of a
discussion on the qualities of an ideal society. We can only know what it means
to be a just man when we discover how it is that all people in a community
should come to live together, all of them with their own distinct strengths and
contributions.
Whose
judgment should be the highest authority in the state? Surely we must ask
ourselves what sort of human excellence can be of benefit not just for some,
but for all. Merely being smart or clever, having riches and power, or
possessing popularity and charm will not be enough, because each of those
attributes can be both used and abused. What is required first and foremost is
the ability to distinguish true from false, and right from wrong to begin with,
the virtue of wisdom. Nothing in life will be good if we are not guided toward
a proper end.
For this
reason, Plato has Socrates suggest a novel solution. We shouldn’t have rulers
who are career politicians, who have learned how to play the game, or generals,
who have learned to impose military might, or businessmen, who have learned how
to buy influence with their money, or even fine orators, who have learned how
to rouse popular opinion with their words. Instead, a community will be on the
road to justice when philosophers become kings, or when kings become
philosophers.
None of
this will make any sense if we misunderstand what Plato means by a philosopher,
or if we neglect to even consider the ultimate purpose of human nature. But
Boethius seems to have understood that only wise men, committed to the
knowledge of the truth and the love of the good, can help to keep us safe from
the schemes of wicked and selfish men. Virtue is the only antidote to vice.
Lady
Philosophy, through the mouth of Plato, taught Boethius these things, but there
seems to be no sign of justice. Where is the resting place, and where are the
rewards? Instead, he sees only more of the same corruption and ruin.
I can
almost picture Boethius gritting his teeth and boiling with anger. I think of
the times when someone may have promised me the world, but it all came to
nothing, and the frustration I have felt both at another for deceiving me, and
at myself for allowing myself to be deceived. When I get into this kind of dark
mood, I immediately think of my favorite cynical joke:
What are
three biggest lies in the world? “The check is in the mail”, “I’m from the government, and I’m here to
help”, and “I love you”. Boethius surely feels like Lady Philosophy seems to
have made a promise she didn’t keep.
Yet even
the first time I read these passages, before I knew where Lady Philosophy was
going to go with her arguments, I already thought I saw something of a problem
with Boethius’ lament. He understands that the philosopher, the wise man who is
best suited to discover meaning in life, must oppose the greed of the vicious
man. Now the vicious man is misled by a desire for wealth, power,
gratification, and fame, and Boethius is bemoaning the loss of precisely these
things.
Why
should I even seek those same things? Why should I define my character by the
terms of criminal wants? Why am I assuming that a life of justice should yield
the same rewards as a life of corruption? I surely can’t claim to order my life
around a higher measure, and then complain about losing the trappings of a
lower measure.
Written in 5/2015
Image: Pedro Berruguete, Solomon (c. 1500)
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