In such a manner were the clouds of
grief scattered. Then I drew breath again and engaged my mind in taking
knowledge of my physician's countenance. So when I turned my eyes towards her
and fixed my gaze upon her, I recognized my nurse, Philosophy, in whose
chambers I had spent my life from earliest manhood.
And I asked her, “Why have you,
mistress of all virtues, come down from heaven above to visit my lonely place
of banishment? Is it that you, as well as I, may be harried, the victim of
false charges?”
“Should I,” said she, “desert you, my
nursling? Should I not share and bear my part of the burden that has been laid
upon you from spite against my name? Surely Philosophy never allowed herself to
let the innocent go upon their journey without a friend.
“Do you think I would fear calumnies?
That I would be terrified as though they were a new misfortune? Do you think
that this is the first time that wisdom has been harassed by dangers among men
of shameless ways?”
“In ancient days before the time of my
child, Plato, have we not as well as nowadays fought many a mighty battle
against the recklessness of folly? And though Plato did survive, did not his
master, Socrates, win his victory of an unjust death, with me present at his
side?
“When after him the followers of Epicurus,
and in turn the Stoics, and then others did all try their utmost to seize his
legacy, they dragged me, for all my cries and struggles, as though to share me
as plunder.
“They tore my robe which I had woven
with my own hands, and snatched away the fragments thereof, and when they
thought I had altogether yielded myself to them, they departed.” . . .
—from
Book 1, Prose 3
I fear I
was born to be a reflective and philosophical person. That doesn’t mean I’ve
ever managed to do it well, but it is my disposition nonetheless. There are
those joyous times when I remember who I really am, and when I can thankfully
put things in their proper perspective. These are the times I can be completely
happy with myself, and with my appreciation of what is true and good, only for
its own sake.
These
are the times when I recognize Philosophy as my nurse.
None of it
is about intellectual grandeur; I outgrew that illusion fairly quickly. No, it
is about finding freedom and peace, living without all of the bells and the
whistles, the trinkets and the trophies. It is about being able to know without
a desire to manipulate by means of that knowledge, and being able to love
without any ulterior motive for giving that love.
I smile
and nod when I hear Boethius ask Lady Philosophy if she is going to suffer just
like him. I have often been angry when people insult and slander truth, but it
is foolish of me to think that truth itself can really ever suffer from malice
or manipulation. Truth is timeless, eternal, and invincible. I may choose to
ignore it, but it always remains there for whenever I choose to return.
Wisdom
will never abandon me, though I have often sadly abandoned her. A real mother
will never abandon her child, a dedicated lover never disposes of the beloved, and
Philosophy will never neglect her followers.
The
world has many shameless and hateful people, who have chosen their own selfish profit
as the measure of their actions, whatever the cost to others may be. They
can be quite fond of harassing Philosophy, because they know that truth and
virtue stand in their way.
Yet the
world also has many wise and loving people, who will give of themselves at
every turn. They will turn to Philosophy as a comforter and as a friend.
We see
more of the former, because they enjoy drawing attention to themselves. We
don’t always see the latter, because they serve something greater than
themselves.
When I
first read this passage, I had to do the classic double take. How could
Socrates possibly be said to have won a victory by being killed unjustly?
Surely his shameless persecutors won the victory, and he was defeated? I had to
read further to make any sense of this, but it reflects the incredible way that
Boethius turns our expectations around by asking us to reconsider our most
basic values. Stay tuned.
I
hesitate to use such an ugly and powerful word, but I feel that I must. Some
people attempt to symbolically rape Philosophy, because they try to make
themselves masters of the truth. The shameless and hateful folks grab onto what
little bit they think might be useful to help them feel powerful, they take it
for themselves by force, and they leave behind everything else.
Written in 5/2015
Image: Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Socrates (1787)
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